05th Jan2005

I LOVE Mario’s “Turning Point”

by Will

Is there no stopping Mario?

First, he was saving the Mushroom Kingdom from the Evil King Koopa.

Next, he was lamenting the fact that he was “Just A Friend”.

Now, he’s beggin’ this chick to let him love her!

Those crazy Italian rappers, I tell ya!

Wait? What do you mean they’re not the same guy?!!! Then who’ve I been sending those meatballs to?!!! And what am I gonna do with this box of smiley stars & mushrooms? I really hope I kept the receipt for that Takooni suit…

Anyway, since I don’t have the luxuries to which you livejournal punks are entitled, I have to find places to inform you to what I’m listening.

Right now, the album du jour is Mario’s “Turning Point”. Yeah, that single is “off da hook”, as the young ruffians put it. But there’s an even better hidden gem on that disc. Please, use your file-sharing programs, or borrow the CD from that black chick who works in the mailroom of your place of employment. I say this because you MUST hear “Nikes Fresh Out the Box”!

Yes, folks. We all felt shoe-based songs had peaked with “Air Force Ones”, but Mario has done us one better. He compares the new girl he’s seeing to a pair of new Nikes, “fresh out the box.” Since most of my shoes have been stroke-of-luck finds from Marshalls, I have no idea what this feels like. If the song were “British Knights Straight Off the Shelf”, then we could talk.

I love the part where he promises “not to scuff her”. But I digress, this song is hilarious, plus it’s got a good beat. The feel-good song of January. Yeah, that’s a good description…

05th Jan2005

Wait, WHO’S Seal Marrying?!!!

by Will

Seal is engaged to Heidi Klum? SEAL IS ENGAGED TO HEIDI KLUM?!!! Where the Hell did this come from? I mean, ET said it, so it must be true. But…where’s the justice?

I’m torn. Is it that I don’t believe Supermodel Heidi Klum deserves the bastion of soul known as Seal? Or is it I don’t think Lupus-scarred Seal deserves Supermodel Heidi Klum?

When and HOW did these two get together? I mean, he also used to bang Tyra Banks, so he’s used to getting kisses from roses. But this is Crazy! I mean, someone say a prayer for the dying, ’cause the world must be coming to an end…

29th Dec2004

What Should I Do With My Life?

by Will

Today’s Episode: “Where There’s a Will, There Ain’t Apparently A Way…”

So, in terms of occupation, I’m totally wasting my life. I mean, this has been brewing for awhile, but it’s finally catching up to me. I feel like I’m doing nothing worthwhile, professionally.

I need to go back to school. I KNOW this. But for what? I think about law school, but I really just wanna be able to call myself “a lawyer”. I call that my “Star Jones Complex”. I don’t know if I really want to practice law, but I’d like to be able to if I felt in the mood one morning. I think I’d make a good lawyer. You know, the Matlock kind who totally pulls something out of his ass to save the day at the last minute. I’d be a wildcard lawyer. People wouldn’t really come to me unless they needed a miracle. And in my spare time, I’d be a legal consultant to “Inside Edition”. Man, that’d be the life!

Next, I think about grad school. But what would I go for? I’m kinda done with the whole “head games” field. Yeah, Human Dev was fun and all, but it didn’t exactly hone my mutant powers. It’s like going to Xavier’s and, after 15 yrs, still blasting holes in walls everytime you wake up in the morning. I was naturally gifted in reading people. Textbooks didn’t teach me that. Sure, I could spend thousands MORE to become certified in reading people, or I could go out on a limb, and try something new.

I think I’d be great in government. Politics. Seriously. I LOVE some good muckraking, and I make a good “#2”. No, you sickos, I don’t mean “shit”. I mean, I’m a good “man behind the man.” I’d love to be a campaign manager or something one day, but for now, I’d really enjoy being a “cog in the wheel”, as long as I could see that my work was worthwhile and contributing to something important. I’m all about the policy reform. As dumb as it sounds, I’d LOVE to be a Capitol Hill staffer right now. And it’d only be better for you readers, ’cause we’ve all learned how entertaining blogs of Hill staffers can be (google “Washingtonienne”)

In college, people like Jennine used to talk about celebrities, such as Craig David, and lament, “He’s our age.” This was meant as, “Why aren’t we totally celebrities or something?” At the time, I just brushed it off, as “Everything in its time.” But now, I’m starting to feel the same way.

When will my ship come in? Do I even HAVE a ship? Are my reservations in “3rd class steerage” like all those peasants who drowned on the Titanic?!!

It’s hard, ’cause I know pseudo-celebrities. I went to high school with four current NBA players (Jamison Brewer, Roger Mason, Rodney White, and Demarr Johnson). I had Entomology @ Cornell with a lingerie model (http://www.summerrayne.net). I swear, these better not be the 5 people I meet in Heaven, ’cause I am seriously asking for a transfer!

I just wonder, do I have some special talent I’m not exploiting? I feel like my best performance is ahead of me and not behind, but what form will it take? What am I supposed to be doing?

PLEASE someone help me!!! I mean it. Use the “comments” section. Use the guestbook. E-mail. I don’t care. Suggestions, people!

“I’m not a praying man, but…Superman, if you can hear me…”

14th Dec2004

My Issues With Alvin and the Chipmunks

by Will

“I dunno…maybe it’s a bowling alley!”

So, I wrote about this some time ago, but I think it’s time to revisit the topic: The Chipmunks.

Now, with this holiday season, The Chipmunk Song is a classic. But I find that, the older I get, the more disturbed I find the whole “Chipmunk Phenomenon”.

In the Chipmunk Universe, how could the world’s little girl population be so enthralled by singing 4-ft. chipmunks?!!! It’s sick! It’s like asking, “What if Justin Timberlake & the rest of ‘NSYNC were chipmunks?” Just think about it. Do you know what some chicks WANT TO DO TO THOSE GUYS?!!! It boggles the mind.

Plus, why was Dave always yelling at Alvin? That’s verbal abuse. It’s not like he HAD to take care of ’em. He didn’t get some Chipmunk whore knocked up or anything. He took it upon himself, but it’s like he always regretted it afterwards by the way he’d yell at Alvin. Frankly, i think he was just jealous that Alvin probably got more ‘tang than he did.

With all the yelling, you ever think Alvin just wanted to kill Dave in his sleep? He’d TOTALLY get away with it. Who’d blame a chipmunk? Then again, the prosecutor’s daughter would probably have a mad-on for the chipmunks, and he’d let Alvin fry just for that…Now, would they send a chipmunk to juvie, or would they just put him to sleep right then and there? Imagine the fall from grace! And you think the Michael Jackson trial is scandalous…

Plus, what was the deal with the Chipettes? I always kind of thought they were figments of that old broad’s imagination. She WAS kind of…”off”. Plus, let’s think about this: One trio of singing chipmunks? OK, I’ll let it slide. A whole lot of crazy shit can happen when you dump chemicals in the wrong parts of the forest. But TWO trios of singing chipmunks?!!! I smell a cloning cover-up!

Oh man….I really need to start getting more sleep.

Have a great day, everyone! If you see a chipmunk, don’t let it sing to you; that’s how they lure ya into their trap!

05th Dec2004

The Final Countdown!

by Will

You know a song that makes me crack up?

“The Final Countdown”, by Europe!

I swear, this has got to be the most BOMBASTIC song I’ve ever heard. All that fanfare over NOTHING. What the Hell are they even counting down to? It has got to be the gaudiest, most synthesizer-laden, stadium rock anthem ever created.

But, I swear…hearing that opening riff, ALWAYS makes me crack up. Like, “Uh-oh, it’s Final Countdown time….guess I’d better be scared or something.”

22nd Nov2004

Marion Barry and the Gay Bar

by Will

“Watch out, ’cause here I come. It’s been awhile, but I’m back in style!”

Today’s Episode: “Oh No He Didn’t (Oh, YES He Did)!”

A little backstory: I’ve got a couple of friends at H&M who’ve never received “the blog treatment” before. Anyway, Juwan and Bruce are fellow retailers-in-arms, and we tend to have a good time whenever we’re at work together.

So, last night was Bruce’s birthday & he was throwing himself a party at the Banana Cafe. Well, I didn’t really know what to expect, but NOTHING could’ve have prepared me for what the night would bring. NOTHING.

I swear, folks…you’ve read some wacky shit on this site before, but NONE of it holds a candle to this crazy night in SE Washington…

So, a friend and I decided to go together ’cause we didn’t really know where the place was. Let’s see…2 sheltered kids in S.E. DC. I guess we figured they couldn’t kill us both, right? Strength in numbers, and all that jazz…

The party started at 6, but we didn’t roll in until around 10. Bruce was way drunk, bless his heart! He was glad to see us, as he led us inside. Apparently, it was Karaoke Night @ the Banana. So, he leads us up the stairs, and what do we find? A room full of young, Black gay guys. They weren’t all gay, but you couldn’t swing a dead cat in the room without hitting one. Now, when I say this, I don’t mean it in a derogatory sense at all. I say it ’cause I have never seen a room so CHOCK FULL OF BLACK GAY GUYS!!!

I think what struck me, too, was that it wasn’t all stereotype. It wasn’t like the “Men on Film” guys from “In Living Color” (Wow, I’m seriously dating myself here). Instead, it was an array of NBA jerseys and denim jackets. They looked like they were in a G-Unit video or something.

Anyway, my friend and I kinda look at each other; the White Chick & The Straight Guy. We were basically a bad UPN sitcom waiting to happen. But, what the Hell? We’re there to have fun, right? So, we get to the bar and Juwan’s drunk, too. I mean, DRUNK. But it was cute. He was kinda stumbling around. Every so often, he’d yell “Aw, this is my JAM!” and start dancing.

So, we’re drinking our SoCo & Cokes, getting settled, taking it all in. As I look around the room, I kinda start to feel like the last rib at a Black cook-out. There were all these eyes on me, ranging from “What’s he doing here?” to “Where’ve you been all my life, playa?” Now, for you frequent readers, you know that I tend to find myself in these situations ever so often. But this was only the TIP of the iceberg. Let the craziness begin:

A few minutes after we get our drinks, Bruce comes over and whispers, “Y’all will NEVER guess who that is over there!”

I ask who he’s talking about, and he points to a table near the window. Brace yourselves, folks

 

“That’s Marion Fuckin’ Barry!!!”

I look over and, “Holy shit, that IS Marion Barry!”

Yes, the crack-smoking DC mayor-for-life was sitting right there, about 10 feet from me. For all you uninformed, he’s that guy that Chris Rock loves to make fun of. I swear, he’s been milking that routine for 10 yrs….

Anyway, at the table sat Marion Barry and the cheapest, Sandra Clark imitation hoochie I have ever seen in real-life. This is one of those chicks who was clearly an escort. Not a hooker, but an escort. What’s the difference, you ask? Well, a hooker is someone you just pay for sex, while an escort is someone you pay to be seen with you. She might have sex with ya later, but that’s gonna cost extra.

Also, allow me to say that the good mayor looks like SHIT. I mean, during his recent campaign, there was talk of how bad his health was, but I had no idea it was THIS bad. The poor thing looked WRECKED…

“I’m gonna go say ‘hi’,” I said, as I rushed over to the table. Not really knowing what to say to a world-renowned figure, I offer my hand and say, “Congratulations, sir.” Hell, I didn’t really know WHAT, specifically, I was congratulating him on. Was it his recent election win? Was it his ability to find a woman to come out with him tonight? Was it the mere fact that he’s still alive? Damned if I know. I just figured such a phrase would make him feel good about himself or some shit.

He gave me a limp handshake and kind of mumbled something. I figured it was a pearl of wisdom from a man who’d clearly enjoyed a colorful life and career. “I beg your pardon?” I responded. Once again, he mumbled something. I leaned closer and asked, “What?” The third time, I heard him: “Do I have to go up to the bar, or will they come to the table?” Yup, that’s what the old fool asked me. I kinda stammered: “Uh…they’ll come to the table…..Did you need anything?” Yup, I was gonna buy old Marion a drink, but he just kinda waved me away. Yes, the good mayor and I were about to become enemies…

So, I decided to sing something, while Bruce & Juwan chilled on one of the couches. The first song was “A Song For You”, sung by the Temptations, but better known as a Ray Charles song. Surprisingly, the crowd seemed to like it, or they were just blowing sunshine up my ass.

When I was done, all of us kinda hung out together, the whole time trying to figure out how the Hell we ended up in a gay bar with Marion Barry?!!! But wait kids, there’s more!

It turns out Marion’s skank wanted to sing, too. How to describe her… Well, she was wearing an all black catsuit, with a chain around her waist. She thought she was cute, and Marion seemed proud to have her on his arm. That chick had the audacity to try to sing a Mary J. Blige song, and I don’t think she hit a single note in the song. But she was just smiling and singing like she thought she could sing. Marion decided to get a closer seat, but as I’ve said, he’s a bit out of sorts these days. As he started to sit down, his chair was tipping over and almost spilled him onto the floor. If someone hadn’t caught it from behind, he’d have fallen and I KNOW he wouldn’t have been able to get up! So, he sat there, drinking his drink, watching his girl. A couple of the divas decided to help her out ’cause she just wasn’t doing that song justice. When she finished, Marion smiled and clapped.

The entire time, we’re drunk, off in the corner, asking, “Is that REALLY Marion Barry?!!!’ Juwan would scream out, “Why is he HEEERREE?!!!” Bruce came back over, and I asked if Barry was a regular there. His response: “I ain’t never seen his crack-smokin’ ass around here before!” Barry’s like 4 feet away, mind you. I cringe and say, “He’s right there! He can here you!!!!” Bruce replied, “I don’t care! He knows what he is!”

So, the night continues on, and the drinks keep flowing. I decide to sing another song, but what to sing? Well, I went for the “ringer approach” and chose a song I already knew: This I Promise You (Which, btw, can be downloaded from my music section *wink*). So, I chose my song and signed up on the list.

Turns out, “Catwoman” had signed up for ANOTHER Mary J. song before me. I swear! So, I sat back and watched her butcher yet ANOTHER song, but I also noticed Barry talking to the DJ off to the side. Something nefarious was going on. I think he was trying to arrange for her to sing another song. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna watch THAT happen! You see, I was next on the list, and I wanted to sing my damn song.

I kinda got belligerent at that point. Ask anyone on that couch. “What the fuck is he doing?” I asked. ” I will fight Marion Barry! I ain’t scared of no old Marion Barry!” Sure, I wasn’t screaming at the top of my lungs, but I was vocal. That’s what alcohol does. It’s pure science.

I wanted to sing my song and, I’m sorry, there’s a line! Luckily, he didn’t get in front of me. Bruce swears I wasn’t going to do anything, but I don’t know…considering how surreal the night seemed, I kinda thought it was all a dream by that point anyway!

So, I got up and sang This I Promise You. It probably wasn’t the best venue for such a song; did I mention Black, gay, and S.E. DC?

During the instrumental part of the song, I got a little creative. I said, “This goes out to Bruce, on his birthday. And I also wanna give a shout-out to Marion Barry.” People kinda laughed and/or looked shocked. “What? He’s right here. We all see him!” I said. Did I mention that Marion was like 2 ft away from me? No? Well, he was. Yeah, it was dick of me. But in a drunk, funny way…

I think I got a little too into the song, actually. In fact, I think I might’ve been as off-key as Barry’s girl. Why, you ask? Well, this dude came up from behind me and said, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” OUCH. Back-handed compliments. Thanks, boys…So, I finished that song, and I think only one person clapped.

But the night was about to jump the shark. Just when you thought it was safe, what happens next? Well, I’ll tell ya!

When I get back on the couch, who do i see heading up to the mic? I thought he was lobbying for his girl again, but it was something bigger than that. Something more unexpected. Something monumental. Yes, Marion Barry was gonna SING KARAOKE!!!

I’m about to lose my mind here!!! Am I really seeing this? Is he really who he claims to be?!!! It’s all a blur. And what song did he choose for himself? “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay”, by Otis Redding. Yes, I was about about to watch the tides roll away as Barry butchered a soul classic. We’re falling out of our seats in disbelief! We’re scrounging for camera phones and anything else to immortalize this moment. I yell,”Do you know how much Wonkette would pay for these pictures?!!!”.

He was beyond bad. It’s not that he was tone-deaf..it’s just that he wasn’t listening to the background track. Then, his lady decided to join him for the WORST duet….I can’t even….I’m fuckin’ blown! And to cap it off, you know how the song ends with a whistling solo? He sang it! No, he didn’t whistle it; he SANG IT!!! Words can’t explain…

When he finished, the crowd erupted. I guess we were all in awe of what had just transpired and, as they say in the ‘hood, “Marion was getting his propers”…Some of the guys helped him off of his chair, and after a few more political handshakes, Marion and ‘ho left the building. It was like a mass UFO sighting, though. For the next hr, we were all asking each other, “Did you see that?!!” or “Did that really just happen?” or, my fave, “Fucking Marion Barry?!!” It was like, for that night, we were all brought closer due to our shared ordeal. God bless alcohol and fallen celebrities…

The party wound down, we closed out tabs, and laughed about that shit all the way back to MD. I hope this made some kind of sense in print, but you really had to be there. And I’m sure it’ll never happen again, so you missed out. But from this day forward, children around the world will sing songs of the time Crack-smoking Marion Barry Sang Karaoke in the Gay Bar. And if you ever hear them sing these songs, you just tell ’em my name and that I was there on that fateful day.

Marion Fuckin Barry…

23rd Oct2004

The One Where I Tear Apart The African Heritage Movie Theatre

by Will

You ever had something you really needed to say, but KNEW you shouldn’t even open your mouth. I’m at that point now. Something’s been bothering me for years, and I just have to talk about it. I’ve gotta warn that this is my “Bill Cosby Goes Apeshit on His People” speech, so if you’ve got a weak stomach, scroll down to where I talk about comics or something. I just know the Council’s gonna take away my rhythm and love of chicken…

First off, Black people need to make better movies. This mess is unwatchable. You see, about 10 yrs ago, some corporate entity created the “African Heritage Movie Theatre”, where each month, some syndicated station shows a movie that’s supposedly “important to our heritage”. Well, Black folks don’t exactly have a “Citizen Kane” to be proud of, so the bar was set a bit lower. When the whole program started, you might get “Coffy”, or on a good day, “Cooley High”. But over the yrs, they’ve been moving through the decades. As the yrs rolled on, the quality got worse.

Plus, as some kind of bastard caveat, each movie has a cameo by Ruby Dee and/or Ossie Davis. You see, these two are, somehow, the oldest married Black couple alive. If you can’t tell, Black marriage survival rates ain’t the best, you know, with divorce, abandonment, and hypertension running rampant. So, Ruby and Ossie were like the first black actors or something. And how cute? They ended up getting married. So, for some reason, every Black movie from the past 40 yrs has them in some capacity, even if Ossie plays “garbageman #3”. I think it’s in the contract for every movie: “Find a role for Ruby or Ossie!” So, to cap off this cute little nothingness, Ruby and Ossie host each presentation of the African Heritage Movie Theatre. And it’s so damn cheesy. Ruby’ll say something like, “In this next scene, watch for the garbageman. I thought he was such a hunk!” and then Ossie will follow up with something like, “Oh, go on, now!” Such trifling married banter. But I’ve gotten off-topic.

Bad Black movies. Why can’t we make a good, entertaining, substantial film, without the Wayans’ involvement, and without a Snoop cameo? I had no life in high school, so I’ve watched this mess since the beginning. On a good Saturday, I might’ve gotten “The Color Purple”. But not anymore. Today, I got “Graffiti Bridge”, with Prince and Morris Day.

Now, let me say that “Purple Rain” was a good Prince movie. But there is NO such thing as a good Morris Day movie (Yes, I KNOW he was in “Purple Rain” Forget about that for the moment). In fact, I’ve spent the last few years trying to even understand Mr. Day’s popularity. So, Morris was the poison of this film. That, and the fact that it’s Prince during his religious kick. Which brings me to my next off-color remark: Black people have an interesting interpretation of the Bible.

Prince, or TAFKAP, or “The Artist”, has ALWAYS oozed sex, but even at his holiest, he couldn’t give up the women. I’ve noticed over time, and this is NOT a blanket, groundless generalization, that in the Black community, adultery isn’t really looked at as a “sin”, per se. It’s more of a “that nigga done fucked up.” It’s less about what God’s gonna do to you, and more about what “yo’ baby mama’s” gonna do. I’ve always found that strange. It’s like everything in the Bible pertaining to sex, Black people seem to have regarded as “Oh, that’s something The Man put in there to keep us down!’ I’ve never been able to get down with such devout pick-and-choose religion. If you’re unsure about something that major, then you’re unsure about a lot of the tenets. But don’t act like you’re on your way to Glory as you’re scanning the club for easy prey… Wow, that was kinda preachy.

But please, just make some good movies. ‘Cause one of these days, I’m gonna have to spend time with my kids. You know, it’s gonna be court-ordered and shit, so I’ll HAVE to do it. And what easier way to kill time than watch TV? On the path we’re traveling, it’s only a matter of time before ‘Soul Plane” is deemed worthwhile to our heritage. I’m sorry, but Mo’nique squeezing into a stewardess uniform ain’t really gonna enhance the Civil Rights Movement in any shape or form…

But wait, there’s more! Black people, please stop marrying ugly people. I swear, it’s like Black ugly people are seeking out other ugly people, and it’s bad for our future. Just look at the Jet or Ebony society pages. For the uninformed, Jet is that magazine that hangs out next to Soap Opera Digest, you know, with all the Black people on the cover. Half of these brides look like horses, while the guys just look like they’re glad they chased down SOMEBODY. But let’s look to the future. These creatures are going to have offspring, and two wrongs do NOT make a right! Let’s nip this in the bud. Stop ugly intermarriage.

Man, I went too far today….

18th Oct2004

Drama of Jupiter?

by Will

OK, even though I posted highlight quotes, I think the quote of the weekend was :

“It’s a travesty that Evan didn’t record ‘Drops of Jupiter’!”

You know, a lot of people come up to me and tell me this. My question is: What do you want me to do about it?

I mean, seriously! That’s like if I went up to someone and said, “You know, your kid’s alright, but he’d probably be cuter if he didn’t have Down Syndrome and all…” I mean, you’re insulting me to my face, and it’s supposed to just roll off of me?!!

What’s this supposed to accomplish? People tell me this like they expect me to agree with them. Well, I DON’T.

This was, like many things in life, a political move. And sacrifices must be made. We, in Last Call, made the decision to make the CD representative of the current group at the time of its release. Evan was gone and Eduardo was gone, hence no tracks by them. Yes, Anthony’s “We Built This City” got on, and I had nothing to do with that. I was told it was because it was done and the money had been spent.

But people act like they expect me to say, “You’re SO right. I’m nowhere near as good as Evan and I’m ashamed to have my voice on there where his should rightly be!”

I’m not gonna say it. Evan was/is great, and we got a TON of mileage off of that song, from the Today Show to the ICCAs, but Evan had also had a solo on a CD. I hadn’t. Surprisingly, that comes into play when discussing potential album tracks. When this was recorded, I had NO IDEA I’d end up with 3 tracks on the CD, but I ain’t complaining. A group is about evolution and change. Simply, it was someone else’s turn.

Did we HAVE to record Drops? No. That wasn’t solely my call. The group decided, and now the very same people are the ones who’re quick to tell me how unworthy I am to be singing the solo.

People forget about politics. HAD we brought back older members to sing their songs, YEAH, Evan would be on Drops, but Eduardo would have been on Keep, and other solos would’ve changed hands as well. So, sorry folks, your loss is other folks’ gain. I’m not the only one who benefitted from the whole thing.

Plus, as I’ve said before, the review board at RARB liked my rendition, so there.

But, if anyone out there is STILL upset that I sang the song and not Evan, and they’re clamoring for their Evan version or their money back, well I’ve got a live track featuring him with your name right on it. Drop me a line and I’ll send it to ya. Maybe then we can all move on….

Man, I’ve gotta stop this drunk blogging…

10th Oct2004

In 5 Years, I’ll Bet Nobody Knows Who Kevin Lyttle Is…

by Will

Why are my friends associated with such D-list celebrities? You know, there’s someone out there saying, “Oh yeah, Cameron Diaz is my best friend” or “Britney and I used to take baths together.” But me and my friends? No dice. We get saddled with the chance encounters with the likes of old haggard Penthouse Pets and guys who almost made it on reality shows…

So, where’s this going? Well, about 2 weeks ago, Natalie came into town. She wanted to know if I was up for a supply run to Target. Seeing as how Target is the next best thing to Walmart, I happily obliged.

We’re pulling into the parking lot when her phone rings. “Kevin?” she asked. Then suddenly, “Oh my God! It’s Kevin Lyttle!” Yes, folks. THE Kevin Lyttle. The young man who wants you to kiss and caress him. THAT guy.

You see, she met him a few months back at Platinum as his star was beginning to rise. He got her number, and apparently he calls her from time to time. I knew about it when it first happened, and I kinda thought it was hilarious. This one-hit wonder is actually calling back some chick he booked in a club. Aren’t THEY supposed to be calling HIM? That’s priceless.

But now…I dunno how I feel about Kevin Lyttle callin’ my girl! No, she’s not my girl, and I’m over all that, but it’s the principle, ya know? I mean, it’s fucking Kevin Lyttle. The boy is so anti-cute that his album cover is him looking down, with a hat covering his face. You know the PR boys were out of ideas when they OK’d that clusterfuck of a move.

Plus, I think what gets to me is he might have a shot. Anybody’s who’s been reading this site for the past summer knows ALL about my trials and tribulations, but I swear, if he somehow gets her to kiss and caress him, i’m gonna shit a brick. I know she’s better than that, but he IS a celebrity, even if he ranks below select members of O-Town. Some people are attracted to that sort of thing…

So, he’s on the phone, and he’s just shooting the shit. In the meantime, I’m like “I wanna talk to Kevin! Let me say ‘hi’.”And she’s all like “shh!”. He was trying to find out where she was. Hey Kevin, take note: I know you’re new to this whole fame thing, but booty calls typically don’t take place at 4 PM on a Sunday evening! Besides, we had some Target-ing to do. So, after he found out she wasn’t in NYC, which is where he was, he eventually got off the phone.

I was like, “Why didn’t you let me talk to him?” She goes, “No one’s supposed to know I have his number.” I shot back, “What? Who the fuck’s gonna stalk Kevin Lyttle? Why’s this such a big secret? Nobody cares!”

She kinda changed the subject, but I got out, “I can’t wait to blog about this!” So, there it is. Tune in for when I discuss my friend Syd, and the fact that she’s hanging out with “The Famous Jett Jackson” of Disney Channel fame…

06th Oct2004

My First, and Probably Last, Album Review

by Will

In all my blogging, I don’t think I’ve ever posted this:

http://www.rarb.org/reviews/423.html

This is my very first (and, so far, only) album review. This is back with Last Call, for our album “Vestosterone”. Long story short, the reviewers could’ve lived without the album, but the loved me! And isn’t that really all that matters?

*shameless plug warning*

And if you wanna know what they were talking about, these songs, and more, can be downloaded from my “Music” section. Oh, and if ya like the LC stuff, go buy their album…actually, nevermind. What do i care? “Why buy the cow…”?

P.S. They liked Lip too, but this is MY site, so…(Hi, Lip!)