Monday Mood: Jay Z – “Dear Summer”

Please show the same love to my friends,
Dear Summer

 

Lyrics below: Continue reading Monday Mood: Jay Z – “Dear Summer”

Watch How To Trap A BumbleBee And Take Cheap Shots At Your Team

I didn’t choose the blog life, the blog life chose me! This can be stressful – especially when your co-writer’s an English major grammar-Nazi:


But, as the saying goes “sticks and stones may break ya bones, but bumblebees will sting the $hit out of your double grammar-queen face”…How’s that, BEN? Does THAT pass your final edit!!! So, when you find your place of peaceful contemplation, and a perpetratin-ass-bumblebee is ALL up in ya… BeezNess, what do you do?


Well, we’re here for you, friendly readers. Here’s a Step by step plan of attack:
1. First pick a tool for the problem:


2. Okay, maybe the tool ain’t enough. It’s one thing to TRAP a bumblebee but, if you wanna walk away with your eyeballs in tact and stinger-free, you better pick a SMARTER tool… So retreat, and dodge like Mayweather:


3. Here we go. This one’s CLEAR. Why? So you can see the buzzing beast bounce around before he pounces at your head like a face-hugger from the Alien movies!

YEA…THATS WHY:


4. Trap him with a paper on top. It was windy out, so I used thin cardboard. This African is takin NO chances. He might hate you at this point, the Lil Bee might even wanna go kamikaze on your family, but when he sees you were setting him free. He’ll thank you:


That, or he’ll go get trapped in another screened porch like an idiot, meet his fate in the beak of a lucky bird becoming (wait for it) Buzzfeed, or use his legs in a flower orgy in the sweet sweet looove makin act of pollination. Bee easy, Pimpin!

Turnip Tuesday: Disclosure – “Omen” (Ft. Sam Smith)

Ever since they “LATCHED” onto the crooner Sam Smith’s soulful vibes, the duo of brothers has blended soulful vibez effortlessly with what can be described as  pounding electronic jazz throughout the neo-soul British invasion of American pop.  This is the 1st single from their new album coming soon. The turnip should be enjoyed smooth in a chilled glass in the outside Summer feel on this one. Swag it out!
P.s.
Scooter, hook Justin up with these guys ASAP. They should produce his first adult record! #GhostAnR

Potato Of The Day Episode 78

zucchinibabyI’m feeling a little loose today, a little wild, a little crazy. I think I’m going to treat myself. I’m going OUT tonight, hitting the town square in the face with my polished loafers. Yeah that’s right, baby! I’m a modern day one man rat pack, a solo Sinatra in a suit. Gonna take me a big fat stack of cash, light it ablaze, and let that shit flutter in the wind. Yeah I’m feeling THAT kind of crazy. You know what they call that around here? Zucchini, baby! Zucchini!

It’s been a long week, but that’s to be expected. It’s the dog days after all. Your puppies should be howling! Take a load off. Take a day off! HELL, TAKE A FEW! I have. Potato Of The Day? Yeah, sure, if we’re talking MONday and THURSday, baby! I’m a zucchini in the summer! There’s no need to push the issue. You ever seen a zucchini push anything? Don’t answer that, baby! Some things are better left to the imagination. Not that kind of imagination you dirty dog, you. Then again, dogs gonna dog, baby! We did say it’s the dog days, didn’t we? Right? I’d check… but baby, I’m checked out!

August is looming, swelling up in the distance, ready to squash summer, but not our summer squash, here! Naw, zucchini is fine with whatever. Lazy summer days? Great! Back to school? Sure! It’s no matter to a zucchini, baby! We, you and I my faithful friend, we might be feeling that collapse of time, the deepening sand pit of looming doom. We know we have work to do, jobs to get back to, words to write, posts to post, readings to read. But we’re not rushing! No way, baby! You and me, and zucchini here, we’re gonna soak up every last second of July. You can bank on that.

So back to tonight, right baby? It’s going down. One way, another way, via highway, all the same, it’s my way. My last stretching toast to my summer me. Well, until the next summer, baby! All good things end, and all good things come back around. So join me in the sun, under the stars, in the street, at the bar. Join me, a zucchini in a zoot suit, fattened on lazy heat and the sweet, sweet release of summer. Join me as we say goodbye, tossing a nod back at that beautiful dame, July. Yeah baby, rhyme with me, too. Because why not?  Why not treat yourself, too? Why not zucchini?

Potato Of The Day Episode 74

iceberglettuceThis is a small cup of iceberg lettuce. There’s next to no practical purpose for this amount of lettuce. Look how stupid it is. What the hell can you even use this for? Maybe you could sprinkle it atop of a singular lonely taco? Or you could feed a rabbit a mid-afternoon snack? Or like… nope. I don’t even have a third idea for my serial hypothetical sentence pattern. I don’t even know where to go from here. I’m stuck. Look at this thing… it’s just… lettuce. Lettuce, you guys. How weird is that?

Now you might be pondering where I would even acquire a cup of iceberg lettuce that small, which is a totally reasonable thing to ponder, unlike say, whether or not you could fit a blown up beach ball in your mouth. You can’t. No, not even if you wait to inflate it until after it’s in there. Trust me. Anyway, I was out at lunch. I got my food to go. I asked for a cup of ICE. You know, frozen water? Solidified hydrogen and oxygen? I know you know what ice is. Sing it with me like Jay, H two da ohhhhhhh. ICE. Not iceberg anything. But iceberg THING is exactly what I got. So what exactly am I supposed to do? I’m not trying to sink a Titanic tomato here. I’m trying to cool my drink! And no matter how cold that lettuce is, no matter how long it’s taken a spa day in the refrigerator, lettuce is a fucking terrible way to cool off a beverage.

Seriously, you know those times when you’re on vacation, catching rays, lounging in the sun, living an exotic summer dream, and you’re all like, “Ohh a mojito sounds like the fuckest dopest dope thing I can think of right now,” and you throw down like twelve dollars, a handful of loose change, and a gum wrapper on the bar, waiting for your hotel bro, Todd the barman, to stop flirting with that tall blonde, the beaching bombshell with one suspiciously untanned line around her left ring finger, and get going with muddling of your goddamn drink? You know those times? Those times when you finally get that rum and syrup elixir, looking all crisp and clear and effervescent as all shit, complete with bobbing chunks of sparkling ice, refreshing rocks dancing in the humid air, and you take your first sip… and BAM you’re choking because goddamned TODD didn’t mix the drink right, leaving you with a mouthful of mint strangling your tongue like a seaweed creature from on deep? You know those times? That’s every drink ever if you use iceberg lettuce instead of ice.

So again, what the fuck I supposed to do this with tiny cup of lettuce? I’m just flabbergasted. Thanks for nothing, Todd.