Valenmime's, the day for silent admiration and appreciation of that special person(s) in your life, complete with a little face paint, and maybe a stripey shirt. Don't worry, my punny brain aggravates me more than it possibly can you, what with my being unable to take a respite from it. I suppose I don't pun in my sleep, but even there I'm not entirely sure.
At any right the tines of valen are upon us tomorrow and we can look forward to heart-shaped boxes and other heart-shaped paraphernalia. It should be noted that paraphernalia carries with it, at least to me, awfully dirty connotations. It just means the stuff and things necessary to do certain things and stuff but I guess I tend to put a silent [drug] in front of it. Not that all drugs are bad...Some pop artists have been known to contend that someone's love is their drug.
When links change or go down, this blog is going to make even less sense with all of the free associating going on.
As I have mentioned in here before, I'm not much of one for St. Valentine and his associated holiday, but rare is the one ambivalent to its celebration. People seem to be really into it, or violently against. I used to come closer to the latter, but each day I crawl a little closer to the who-gives-a-shit camp. Camps getting pretty crowded! If you're a superficial piece of shit, chances are you'll want, or do, some superficial shit tomorrow. If you're a sentimental piece of shit, chances are you'll want, or do, some sentimental shit tomorrow. If you're a curmudgeonly piece of shit, chances are you'll be rather curmudgeonly.
That seems like enough for now. Don't worry, I'll be back on this same website, different IP address soon. Anytime I am out of town I like to get in a little blogging from said place. Thanks for listening google!
Oh, and how bad was Adam Levine trying to sing a Beach Boys song at the Grammy's? Pretty bad. Some will contend there was worse going on I am sure, but I didn't catch much of the program, and this was bad. Then he held the microphone like a sheepish mf when meant to sing with the band. Kind of like the drunk that shouts for attention and, when they receive it, realizes the spotlight generates a lot of heat and you might in fact need to do something when it's there. What else was there to do, smile knowingly and shake his head? Or perhaps not to go round thinking precisely so highly of himself. But hey, I don't know the guy, I just know that was the kind of off-key rendition you could expect from me.
And on that note, I'm out.
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