Many people are familiar with the website Yelp.com. I believe it to be an incredibly useful tool when deciding on restaurants to go to, etc. However, I always wonder who the hell visits these establishments and takes the time to write detailed praises and/or complaints on this site. Some of the people are genuine doof-brains. Some are helpful. But STILL. WHO THE HELL YELPS?
I may not be able to answer for all participants, but as of today, I YELP. As a member of the full-time workforce, I have maximized access to the world wide web. Therefore I have begun to YELP. It is only the beginning. Check out my latest presents to the digital world.
Most people that where cognizant of pop culture in the 1990's know this hit single. Nothing quite like it. Out of pure curiosity I found this clip and am genuinely intrigued. Not completely familiar with the culture of New Zealand. I hear the folks up there are incredibly nice and awesome. Apparently they are really good at creating sand-blasted urban-cruise jams as well.
This live version knocked me into another stratosphere. Full-blown televised production. Acoustic, a capella intro. Flute solos. Full band. Yellow-tinted sunglasses. Harmonial synchronicity. Sly, rhythmic vocal cues. DJ scratchin'.
I really dig the audience's enthusiasm. Their hand clapping even manages to throw the Dj off when the song kicks in. True professionalism.
Last night I had a dream that I was driving my original wheels, a 1990 Chevy Suburban (Similar to the GMC pictured above), throughout the streets of San Antonio. While cruisin' a classic stretch on Blanco road, I lost control of the vehicle and engaged in two minor accidents. Both automobiles (I can't remember the make) were stocked with passengers, who were all severely PISSED about the incident.
Instead of settling the situation in a civilized manner, all three vehicles pulled into the parking lot of Slater White Cleaners, rolled down our windows and started yelling at each other. All I can remember is that I was able to end the situation strictly by sitting on my bum and using the power of WORDS to drive these piss-ants away. Which, in true dream-like form, worked PERFECTLY. I believe the last word I said was "Apparently" and the predicament ceased. APPARENTLY.
To cut to the chase, the pivotal moment of this dream was when I went home and blogged about the occurance. The title is a blur, but the post was similar to this. We're talkin' about DREAM BLOGGING. This is the FUTURE.
I should not be spending as much money as I have been. Low funds. Medium-paying job. Dollar Signs In My Eyes. Call me a fool. I DON'T GIVE.
I believe I am victim to what the doctors call ADDICTION. Addiction to SPENDING. Out of sheer boredom, I find myself walking the aisles of various retail centers, thinking of what I could buy. Then I buy something. In today's case.... LOBSTER BISQUE. Slurpin' it right now.... DELICIOUS.
But Jesus H. Christ! I must be stopped. I am in no power to do that.
The representative of this costly habit is the American Dollar. USD for the people. Cash for the rash. I speak of the dollar in many different forms. Here are some examples:
Kronos Bux
Skinless Greenbacks
QUAN
Crispy Portraits
Salad Paper
COIN
Post-Bisque, I pedaled over to the gas station to buy a lotto card with some QUARTERS. Here's what happened:
Before:
After:
If you can't tell, I did not win anything. Whatever.
Been writing alot of tunes (or fragments) as of late. Back in the unemployment era, I caught this guy at an open mic I was attending at the classic Olmos Bharmacy in Good 'Ol San Antone. He played this song and it struck a chord with me. Nothing innovative. Nothing surprising. Just raw and SOLID.
First week on the job. Back at the bank, for now at least. Today consisted of a lot of acting.
ACTING like a could give a rat's ass about any aspect of my job.
ACTING like I wasn't viciously hung-over from the Motörhead show last night.
Whatever. The branch I work at has a musical subscription to the MUZAK radio service. The station that was on today played primarily WEATHER CHANNEL MUSIC. Intermittently spinning the occasional pop-rock hit from the 70's, 80's, 90's, and today. Highlights of my shift included Shania Twain's "That Don't Impress Me Much" & a splendid instrumental easy-listening rendition of Sarah McLachlan's "Adia." Both songs really knocked me off my black socks. MUCHOS GRACIAS.
A BARBARIC Wednesday for the books. I'm a nine-to-fiver goddammit.
EVERYBODY! STOP WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING AND GIMME SOME QUAN!!!!
