better than bjournal or bdiary.
Lets get this out of the way. I am officially considering my contribution to this site a “weblo.” NOT a “blog.” Blog as a word looks ugly and sounds like a Shakespearean villain. But look, I saved us all time by taking the letter "g" off the end, so I am still “in the know.”
The holidays are over, except for little Christmas, which, I have been told, is when the wisemen brought the presents to the little baby J. However, these days scholars believe that is is the day when Baby J’s dried and and knotted umbilical cord fell off, revealing his sacred little belly button. Baby J was all: “History shall promptly forget this day.” Not anymore, Baby J. I think the Italians celebrate by putting their shoes outside their houses in hopes of getting frankincense or something…. I don’t really know, since I’m not one of them.
I am happy that the season is over, mostly because I don’t have to here the “Baby It’s Cold Outside” song. Or as I like to call it, “ The Rufies Song.” (Also known as “Date Rape Ditty.”)
These are the lyrics as I recall them:
Female: I gotta go.
Male: Aw, stay, its cold.
F: No really, gotta go.
M: The windchill makes it even more frigid.
F: My father, mother, brother, sister, and neighbors all know where you live.
M: In here it is warm
F: Maybe just a half a drink more…will you put down the knife if I do?
M: Bbrrrrrrrrrrr....
F: Say- what’s in this drink? I feel strange.
M: Gosh your lips look delicious
F: Are you touching me?! I feel numb, and sleepy. So tired…
M: What's the sense in hurting my pride
F: No means no.
M: You mean: No, you’re not going outside because of the inclement whether?
F: I am calling the police right now
M: If you caught pneumonia and died I would be sorrowful!
F: That’s so sweet! Ok I'll stay!
Cop: Is there a problem here?
F: Sorry officer, its all a misunderstanding.
----------------
See what I mean?
I am also glad I wont have to hear “White Christmas” anymore. While on most levels it’s lovely, I can’t stop analyzing it along racial/socio-economic lines and feeling a bit disturbed. Oh, infernal social conscience, where dost thou off-switch lie?
All that being said, I will miss all the free food and my family's soothing John Denver Christmas album. And I would like to brag about the fact that when I wrote my rent check yesterday, I did NOT accidentally write 2004. Writing 1-3-05 rolled right off my pen, natural as morning dew. I am so awesome.
The holidays are over, except for little Christmas, which, I have been told, is when the wisemen brought the presents to the little baby J. However, these days scholars believe that is is the day when Baby J’s dried and and knotted umbilical cord fell off, revealing his sacred little belly button. Baby J was all: “History shall promptly forget this day.” Not anymore, Baby J. I think the Italians celebrate by putting their shoes outside their houses in hopes of getting frankincense or something…. I don’t really know, since I’m not one of them.
I am happy that the season is over, mostly because I don’t have to here the “Baby It’s Cold Outside” song. Or as I like to call it, “ The Rufies Song.” (Also known as “Date Rape Ditty.”)
These are the lyrics as I recall them:
Female: I gotta go.
Male: Aw, stay, its cold.
F: No really, gotta go.
M: The windchill makes it even more frigid.
F: My father, mother, brother, sister, and neighbors all know where you live.
M: In here it is warm
F: Maybe just a half a drink more…will you put down the knife if I do?
M: Bbrrrrrrrrrrr....
F: Say- what’s in this drink? I feel strange.
M: Gosh your lips look delicious
F: Are you touching me?! I feel numb, and sleepy. So tired…
M: What's the sense in hurting my pride
F: No means no.
M: You mean: No, you’re not going outside because of the inclement whether?
F: I am calling the police right now
M: If you caught pneumonia and died I would be sorrowful!
F: That’s so sweet! Ok I'll stay!
Cop: Is there a problem here?
F: Sorry officer, its all a misunderstanding.
----------------
See what I mean?
I am also glad I wont have to hear “White Christmas” anymore. While on most levels it’s lovely, I can’t stop analyzing it along racial/socio-economic lines and feeling a bit disturbed. Oh, infernal social conscience, where dost thou off-switch lie?
All that being said, I will miss all the free food and my family's soothing John Denver Christmas album. And I would like to brag about the fact that when I wrote my rent check yesterday, I did NOT accidentally write 2004. Writing 1-3-05 rolled right off my pen, natural as morning dew. I am so awesome.
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