lucky if we're speaking on holidays
Somebody in this house ordered a metric fuckload of pizza last night and now I have no choice but to eat it, even though the dairy is giving me a nasty head/stomachache. Speaking of non vegan food, last week I got really amped when I discovered what I THOUGHT to be vegan ramen noodles at the gas station across the street. They weren't really vegan, you guys. Cue four hour asthma attack triggered by the beef flavoring that I couldn't even TASTE in the powdered sauce junk.
This morning I woke up with a song lyric stuck in my head. Does that ever happen to you? Not a whole song, just a snatch of melody or a phrase. I thought the lyric was one from an American Football song, but I was mistaken. It was a Dashboard Confessional song. You can probably guess which one. Dashboard never fails to remind me of this girl Jellybean I once knew. Jellybean wasn't her real, for actual, name, but that's what everyone I knew called her. I'll never forget this one time when I was... god, probably about fourteen? She went off on an indignant rant about bands like Dashboard and Pennywise and American Hi-Fi, how they were "murdering the soul of punk rock". In retrospect it's pretty funny. Well, maybe I'm the only one who finds it funny, but whatever. She was a really big Cursive fan. Not that I'm in any position to tease, I think I wore an MxPx patch on my backpack that year. And listened to a lot of Dispatch. Sooooo much Dispatch. Somewhere, I must still own every flipping Dispatch CD there is, including the tour DVD. Oh, god. I bet Brendon Urie is a huge Dispatch fan; he loves all those douchey white brorock hippy bands, see also: Sublime. I would send him all my CDs if that didn't cost money and also if I actually cared.
Huh, this entry once had a point, but I've forgotten it. Now I can't stop listening to Modest Mouse, and that's never a good idea. Ahhhh. Oh, I know, I wanted to talk about Robert Corey Bryar, because I love him. Bob is someone who I actually would spend money on shipping just to send him a gift, but I can't think of anything worth sending. Bobbbbbbb. Bobert. Bobby Bob Bob. Okay, I'll stop. I feel compelled to upload some tunes, if only to make this post a little less tl;dr.
American Football - Self Titled
This morning I woke up with a song lyric stuck in my head. Does that ever happen to you? Not a whole song, just a snatch of melody or a phrase. I thought the lyric was one from an American Football song, but I was mistaken. It was a Dashboard Confessional song. You can probably guess which one. Dashboard never fails to remind me of this girl Jellybean I once knew. Jellybean wasn't her real, for actual, name, but that's what everyone I knew called her. I'll never forget this one time when I was... god, probably about fourteen? She went off on an indignant rant about bands like Dashboard and Pennywise and American Hi-Fi, how they were "murdering the soul of punk rock". In retrospect it's pretty funny. Well, maybe I'm the only one who finds it funny, but whatever. She was a really big Cursive fan. Not that I'm in any position to tease, I think I wore an MxPx patch on my backpack that year. And listened to a lot of Dispatch. Sooooo much Dispatch. Somewhere, I must still own every flipping Dispatch CD there is, including the tour DVD. Oh, god. I bet Brendon Urie is a huge Dispatch fan; he loves all those douchey white brorock hippy bands, see also: Sublime. I would send him all my CDs if that didn't cost money and also if I actually cared.
Huh, this entry once had a point, but I've forgotten it. Now I can't stop listening to Modest Mouse, and that's never a good idea. Ahhhh. Oh, I know, I wanted to talk about Robert Corey Bryar, because I love him. Bob is someone who I actually would spend money on shipping just to send him a gift, but I can't think of anything worth sending. Bobbbbbbb. Bobert. Bobby Bob Bob. Okay, I'll stop. I feel compelled to upload some tunes, if only to make this post a little less tl;dr.
American Football - Self Titled