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So, if you’re not a Broadway fan but you watch American Idol, you may have noticed that a million girls sing that song “And I am telling you I’m not going anywhere … And you, and you, and you, you’re gonna love me!” I know Tamyra Gray did it, and I’ve seen a million other rejects do it on the auditions shows. The song is from a show called Dreamgirls, and it was a big hit a few decades ago for Jennifer Holliday, who won a Tony for the role of Effie and scored a hit radio single with the song. Watch this video of her singing it–the actual song starts a few minutes in–and you’ll see why it was so popular. It freaks me out how good she is.
– I did absolutely nothing today. And it was great. I highly recommend other Type-A presonalities out there try a day of doing as little as humanly possible. It is the nicest feeling in the world. I danced around and did some exercise to keep the momentum going, but that’s about it. Here is some lazy day music for you: Fiona Apple - Oh Well (demo version) Also, my two favorite exercise songs of the moment: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Gold Lion (Diplo mix) filed under: misc and music | comments: 8 comments |
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I have seriously watched this video (LITERALLY!) over 100 times. On TV and on the Internet. And I could watch it a thousand more times. This is what reality TV is all about. The ups, the downs, the LOVE. Hahaha. If that doesn’t work–I don’t think the last one showed up on LiveJournal–here is the link. – You know how I wrote how every down low Bushwick thug is in love with me? There is a teenager who works at the deli and always flirts with me, and today as I was picking up my two-liter of Diet Mountain Dew, he said “Oh, let me get the Diet out of the back.” I said “This is Diet.” He says “Oh, it’s Diet?” I say “Yeah.” He says “Oh, okay, I know you like the diet.” I say “Yeah.” He says…I’m not kidding…”Yeah, you don’t need the sugar. You’re sweet enough.” Ahhhhhh! I’m not supposed to get hit on so much in the hood. filed under: misc | comments: none |
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The programmers at Discovery Health Channel need to rethink the order in which they show things. Tonight, they showed Half Ton Man and followed it with 750 Pound Man. Now, I’m thinking if I program a morbid obesity marathon (MOM), I’m going to go up in weight instead of down as the night progresses, just for suspense’s sake. If I’m watching a show featuring a ONE THOUSAND POUND MAN(!!!), a 750 pound man is going to make me go “You ain’t SHIT, bitch!” By the way, at the end of 750 Pound Man, the man dies. What the hell? What the hell? That’s so wrong. It’s like watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and hearing the story about Annie’s sixteen orphan children, and seeing their new mansion, and then watching Hurricane Katrina obliterate it. I used to think that the idea of these shows being so popular because they leave the audience with a better self-image was a load of crap. But, after watching the MOM I felt SO HOT. Okay, maybe I need some more upper body development, but I’m hotter than I was, and I don’t have a big bad fat gene. I’m addicted to porn, not food.
PS - Does anyone else think Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater” [mp3] sounds like “She’s A Maniac”? When she goes “She’s a maaaneater,” I keep expecting her to go “She’s a maaaniac, MAAANIAC on the floor! And she’s dancin’ like she’s never danced before!” filed under: misc and music | comments: 4 comments |
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First off, I have added a link to the Trip With Us site to the right. If you’re a New York City fag or hag, come to see me at Area 10018 every Friday. I’m the boy in his underwear at coat check. Michael Formika-Jones and all of the people at the Trip With Us parties (Boysroom R.I.P.) have been very good to me ever since I moved here. So come visit us. There are five floors at Area, with rock, pop, dance, every scene you could want. It’s on 39th Street between 5th and 6th Aves. Moving on, I have decided to apply to more colleges than Columbia, and to also not try to meet the March 1 Early Action deadline for the school. I need to take time with this and make sure everything’s perfect. I could have had everything in by now, but I didn’t get it all together. I am also probably going to be looking at New School and CUNY Baruch/Hunter. We’ll see. I was watching the Tyra Banks Show–no, I don’t know why–and they were doing an episode on phobias. This lady had this really ridiculous and insane fear of pennies, so Tyra buried a really expensive watch in a huge tank of pennies and the girl had to dig into the pile to get it. On one hand, I was thinking “That is so sadistic.” On the other hand, though, I was wondering if that would work with me. If Tyra Banks put a big tank of vaginas on stage, would I be able to dig through them to find a new plasma TV? Could I jump head-first into that vat of hot vaginas and dig through for a new digital SLR camera? It’s the deep questions in life, kids. filed under: misc | comments: 4 comments |
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I swear to you, it was ten times more annoying than it reads. So she starts talking to this lady, whoever her friend is, and she’s screaming her thanks for watching her little girl, but then it got a little interesting. She goes “Oh! My! God! Guess what? GUESS WHAT? [I’m totally not exaggerating how annoying her speech was, by the way. Not at all.] Oh my God, I was at that event the other night and you are going to SHIT! Guess who gave me his number! No, guess! Guess! [I was going to fucking guess at this point.] It was…” Suddenly, she starting talking in that quiet voice. You know, that quiet voice that isn’t really quiet at all. The one people next door can hear, but that is employed to show some sense of secrecy that one does really care exists anyway. “It was…Colin Farrell.” I rolled my eyes, thinking “Right, lady. Colin Farrell gave you his number. He’s really that desperate.” “I swear! To! God!” she whispered. And yes, she proved that you could use the faux whisper and still give every word an exclamatory tone. “I’m SERIOUS. He gave me his number, I’ll totally show you the piece of paper! He told me not to tell anyone, though. It’s totally confidential. Yeah, is that CRAZY or what? He said, ‘Tatum…’” Ok, this is where I stop listening to what Colin says and look at the lady’s face. Tatum O’Neal. This crazy, obnoxious, nutjob–and this is my opinion, save the lawsuits–was Tatum O’Neal. Former child Oscar winner, current has-been and Dancing with the Stars failure. As I looked at her face, it was unmistakable. Anyway, as I zoned back in to her conversation and brought her her drink, I heard her say that she wanted to meet up with him. So, what do you think? Colin Farrell-Tatum O’Neal sex tape? What would be more annoying, her loud mouth or the disappointing size of his manhood? Just wear a rubber this time, Colin. You definitely don’t want to risk a kid with that one. – To counteract that negative encounter, I will share that Holly Hunter was also in my store a week ago, and she was the nicest, most gracious woman. Short, sweet, and Southern as hell. Loved her. filed under: misc | comments: 10 comments |
I was working the other night, and this extremely obnoxious woman came in to the store. She was talking on her cell phone loudly, and she yelled out her order to me as I was helping the lady in front of her. As shortly as possible, I said to her, “Please hold on.” I finish the transaction ahead of he and before I can even say “hi” to her to show that I was ready, she gives me her order again and starts talking on the phone again. I gave her the death stare for a few seconds before going to fix her drink and she continues her conversation. Obviously, she was talking to a baby for five minutes because she goes “Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi baby! Put Miss __ on the phone, will you? Put Miss __ on the phone! Ok! Bye! Bye! See you! Bye!”|
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