Friend and Future Roommate, Porter Mason, was just drenched in the torrential rainstorm. He drug in a suitcase full of DVDs and delcared, "Tell everyone to ge to hell".
Then, as he unpacked, I forced him to watch NY1 where a recent play about rich people whining was reviewed and the phrase I used to title my blog was uttered with a straight face by the newscaster. It brought Porter & myself great enjoyment to mock it.
Now I shall begin to paw through Porter's impressive DVD collection in order to pick a rainy day treat to view. Or maybe I'll put on channel 11 and watch the atrociously bad lip-syncing on display on Soul Train. I used to watch Soul Train every Saturday afternoon with my dad when I was a kid, right after Loonet Tunes and American Bandstand. We're big fans of Mister Lou Rawls.
In closing, everybody's talking all this stuff about me, why don't they just let me live? Tell me why. I don't need permission to make my own decisions; that's my perogative.
4 comments:
Tell me, tell me, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, can't IIIIIIIIIIIIIII, live my LIIIIIIIfe? (Live my life) without Alllllllllll of the Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiings that people saaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?????
You guys are so gay for each other.
Are those Good Charlotte lyrics?
Webber, are you referring to me & Bobby Brown?
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