In all humility, I must admit that I have some great qualities about myself.
I'm pretty easy to get along with, meeting new people brings a totally fulfilling energy-high, and as a Disciple of Christ I constantly try to exude the fruits of the Spirit. I feel that I have a great sense of humor, and honestly I'm pretty good at Halo.
But most of all, I have a beard.
Let's be honest, one of the first thing you notice about new people is their face, right? It doesn't have to be some judgement thing, but you subconciously memorize outstanding qualities and features of that person, so you can recognize them in the future. I will wager that people meet me for the first time, and later say, "Oh, it's that one guy with a beard! He's so ruggedly attractive and perfectly combines a charming humor with a humble attitude."
Don't lie to yourself. You SO thought that, didn't you?? ...I'm pretty much the most humble guy EVAR.
Anyway. To be serious, I really am proud that I have a beard. Today I wanted to talk about the weird but special kinship that most bearded men share. Honestly, my dad has always had facial hair, and part of me has wanted to be just like him. So when I was finally old enough to grow some substancial facial hair, I started right away.
Go ahead and say it. Awwwww...
Okay that's enough. In the past couple of years I've really experimented with my facial hair, going through the journey that every beardly young man must someday face. LOL I made a pun! Was that punny, or do you consider this punishment??
I need to freaking stay on track, or this post will go on FOREVAH.
As I was getting on my campus shuttle today, I greeted the driver as usual. This particular driver has this wonderfully kept reddish beard, and as I mentioned earlier, that's how I remember him. So as I got on the shuttle, he's greeting everyone like he always does. He sees me, and I can see this semi-different attitude about him when he says hello to me, like some spark in his eye. He had noticed my orderly legion of facial hair. And that's when I fully realized:
Even if you don't know someone very well, your beards can bring you together in perfect and glorious harmony.
I reflected on this, and began to notice this phenomenon in all my beardly friendships. In fact, many of the guys that I'm now good friends with where met with a simple, "Hey, nice beard!" There is some special, unspoken kinship that forms between us as bearded men. I believe it stems from several things:
1. Growing a beard takes time, patience, and some good ol' TLC. Some guys grow it faster than others, of course, but I think we recognize the work that was put into it.
2. I don't why or when THIS started, but if a conversation lasts longer than a few minutes, 93% of bearded men will absent-mindedly groom their face. They will transform their hand into some manner of brush, and proceed to tidy themselves. I catch myself doing this all the freaking time! We bond over this.
Oh and real quick, many (if not ALL) guys will do this sort of motion: they touch their forefinger and thumb just below their nose, in the middle of the mustache. Either finger will go the opposite direction, circling the mouth, and coming back together at the bottom of the chin. They will repeat this action for up to an infinite amount of times. Watch for that, you WILL notice if you pay attention.
3. Finally, we bearded few are joined by a glorious line of famous furry people before us. Just to name a few: Every freaking man from the Bible (search your feelings, you KNOW this to be true), Abraham "Broham" Lincoln, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sean Connery, Russel Crowe (in most of his movies), John Lennon, Albert Einstein, Gandalf, oh and who's that one guy? oh yeah, JESUS CHRIST.
Yeah, he had a beard too. It was heavenly.
Of course, I have to include this disclaimer. You don't HAVE to have a beard to be great or successful, but it sure helps. I know plenty of solid guys that either are not capable of producing proper facial hair, or choose to go bareface. That's totally alright, and I'm not saying a bad thing against them.
Also, OBVIOUSLY, girls are really not included this post. Don't get me wrong, ya'll are AWESOME, but you just can't understand the bond between a man and his beard. You have things you can bond over that guys will never understand, like painting the exposed keratin on your extremities, or wearing colorful powders and chemicals on yo faces.
So, to my beardly brethen, keep up the good fight! Remember to support your furry brothers, and greet them often with a mutual respect and understanding. Good day, and may the Force be with you...and also with you.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Roommate Wars: A New Monday
Not so long ago (actually just this morning) in a dorm far, far away (depending on your current location)....
BUM BUM BUM BUMMMMM BUMM! BAH DA DAHHHH DA! BAH DA DAH DAHHH!
...that was me yelling the Star Wars theme song. Just in case there was ANY confusion there.
Okay so this morning was not a good morning. I actually never say the phrase "good morning", because that is an oxymoron. There is no such thing as a good morning, because all the joy of the world is not present until after 10am. But this morning wasn't even remotely good for several reasons:
1. I was foolish and forgot about my laundry last night, so I was up until 2:30 am waiting for it to get done. This was something totally silly and preventable, which is why it peeves me so much. (Haha I just rememberd that Peeves is the polterguist from Harry Potter)
2. My spring semester started this morning, so last night I was a little too excited and didn't get to sleep right away. Not like a Christmas Eve excited, more like a tomorrow-I'm-going-to-see-an-awesome-movie-that-I've-been-waiting-forever-to-see excited.
3. Most of my bedsheets slid off in the middle of the night. Not something that I can necessarily control, but I'm already freezing for a good portion of the day. Definately don't need my nights to feel like I'm trying to sleep inside of a taun-taun in the middle of a Hoth snowstorm.
4. But finally, and most importantly, one of my roommates had an early class this morning. Understandably, he was required to wake up a little early in order to shower and get prepared for the day. I get that, and I don't blame him for planning ahead. Kudos.
BUT. As those who have been blessed to meet me already know, I am NOT a morning person. Seriously, my body refuses to cooperate each day until around 10-10:30am. My usually light demeanor is replaced with the attitude of that one dinosaur in Jurassic Park, you know the one that ate the fat guy? Sure, I might look pretty harmless, but I swear if you touch me I'm going to spit venom in your face. And then eat you.
Chyeah. It's THAT bad. Also, I get nasty headaches and even physically sick if I eat anything. I might or not be pregnant.
Knowing all this, we can continue. Anyway, my roommate gets up early to get ready for the day. To start, he jumps out of his bed. He's on the top bunk, and doesn't necessarily know how to land softly. So with one swift BAM, my torture session begins. He then promptly goes to his dresser (situated directed next to my bed) to retrieve assorted colored dyes that will serve as stylish coverings. Clothes, idiot. I'm talking about clothes.
Here's the deal with our dressers. The drawers move on small wheels along a set metal track, but they do so very quickly. When the drawer reaches it's maximum length, it hits the barrier with a resounding BOOOOM. Multiple drawers, multiples times, multiple booms.
It reminded so much of the Inception soundtrack, that I've decided to call them Inception drawers. But my nightmare had only just begun.
He exited the room, using our door that is desparately in need of WD-40. Seriously, this thing sounds pretty close to a rabbit being mauled by a cat. At least to a half-awake-not-a-morning-person. So at this point I'm very much awake, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot, rage-filled eyes. As he's off in the bathroom showering, I'm left alone to contemplate what I did to deserve this manner of torture. I mean, I have one hour left before I have to get up. Sleep is so precious to me, that I'm pretty desparate to have that one hour. Trying to find a new comfortable position, I attempt to go back to sleep and just ignore this whole thing. But just as I drift back into frusterated sleep, the bathroom door opens.
Now our bathroom is just outside the bedroom, with the two doors directly facing each other. And my bed is situated so that ALL the light from the bathroom floods onto my face like a horde of sting-crazy bees. Alright maybe not that bad, but this is my story. I'm allowed to exaggerate.
So anyway, now that sleepy time is over again, I focus on not being rude and yelling at my poor roommate, who most likely has no idea what effects these insignificant actions are having. I think it's alright to give him the benefit of the doubt once in a while. I'm a fair guy. I digress.
He enters the room again, leaving the bathroom door open and light on to shine joyfully in my face. I roll over to face the ceiling. But ohhh NO, he decides to turn his desk light on. I guess to find a paper or something. Doesn't really matter, but now the ceiling is bathed in golden light that probably reflects the color of my now-Sith angered eyes.
Thankfully, he turns the light off pretty quickly and leaves to go to class. So I once again roll over to enjoy some good sleep before my "morning" begins.
And then my alarm went off.
BUM BUM BUM BUMMMMM BUMM! BAH DA DAHHHH DA! BAH DA DAH DAHHH!
...that was me yelling the Star Wars theme song. Just in case there was ANY confusion there.
Okay so this morning was not a good morning. I actually never say the phrase "good morning", because that is an oxymoron. There is no such thing as a good morning, because all the joy of the world is not present until after 10am. But this morning wasn't even remotely good for several reasons:
1. I was foolish and forgot about my laundry last night, so I was up until 2:30 am waiting for it to get done. This was something totally silly and preventable, which is why it peeves me so much. (Haha I just rememberd that Peeves is the polterguist from Harry Potter)
2. My spring semester started this morning, so last night I was a little too excited and didn't get to sleep right away. Not like a Christmas Eve excited, more like a tomorrow-I'm-going-to-see-an-awesome-movie-that-I've-been-waiting-forever-to-see excited.
3. Most of my bedsheets slid off in the middle of the night. Not something that I can necessarily control, but I'm already freezing for a good portion of the day. Definately don't need my nights to feel like I'm trying to sleep inside of a taun-taun in the middle of a Hoth snowstorm.
4. But finally, and most importantly, one of my roommates had an early class this morning. Understandably, he was required to wake up a little early in order to shower and get prepared for the day. I get that, and I don't blame him for planning ahead. Kudos.
BUT. As those who have been blessed to meet me already know, I am NOT a morning person. Seriously, my body refuses to cooperate each day until around 10-10:30am. My usually light demeanor is replaced with the attitude of that one dinosaur in Jurassic Park, you know the one that ate the fat guy? Sure, I might look pretty harmless, but I swear if you touch me I'm going to spit venom in your face. And then eat you.
Chyeah. It's THAT bad. Also, I get nasty headaches and even physically sick if I eat anything. I might or not be pregnant.
Knowing all this, we can continue. Anyway, my roommate gets up early to get ready for the day. To start, he jumps out of his bed. He's on the top bunk, and doesn't necessarily know how to land softly. So with one swift BAM, my torture session begins. He then promptly goes to his dresser (situated directed next to my bed) to retrieve assorted colored dyes that will serve as stylish coverings. Clothes, idiot. I'm talking about clothes.
Here's the deal with our dressers. The drawers move on small wheels along a set metal track, but they do so very quickly. When the drawer reaches it's maximum length, it hits the barrier with a resounding BOOOOM. Multiple drawers, multiples times, multiple booms.
It reminded so much of the Inception soundtrack, that I've decided to call them Inception drawers. But my nightmare had only just begun.
He exited the room, using our door that is desparately in need of WD-40. Seriously, this thing sounds pretty close to a rabbit being mauled by a cat. At least to a half-awake-not-a-morning-person. So at this point I'm very much awake, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot, rage-filled eyes. As he's off in the bathroom showering, I'm left alone to contemplate what I did to deserve this manner of torture. I mean, I have one hour left before I have to get up. Sleep is so precious to me, that I'm pretty desparate to have that one hour. Trying to find a new comfortable position, I attempt to go back to sleep and just ignore this whole thing. But just as I drift back into frusterated sleep, the bathroom door opens.
Now our bathroom is just outside the bedroom, with the two doors directly facing each other. And my bed is situated so that ALL the light from the bathroom floods onto my face like a horde of sting-crazy bees. Alright maybe not that bad, but this is my story. I'm allowed to exaggerate.
So anyway, now that sleepy time is over again, I focus on not being rude and yelling at my poor roommate, who most likely has no idea what effects these insignificant actions are having. I think it's alright to give him the benefit of the doubt once in a while. I'm a fair guy. I digress.
He enters the room again, leaving the bathroom door open and light on to shine joyfully in my face. I roll over to face the ceiling. But ohhh NO, he decides to turn his desk light on. I guess to find a paper or something. Doesn't really matter, but now the ceiling is bathed in golden light that probably reflects the color of my now-Sith angered eyes.
Thankfully, he turns the light off pretty quickly and leaves to go to class. So I once again roll over to enjoy some good sleep before my "morning" begins.
And then my alarm went off.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
A short list of childish things that college students should do more often
As a second-going-on-third year college student, I feel that I successfully integrated into a culture of young adults bent on discovering their futures. Seriously, all the focus is directed towards what's coming next in our lives...classes that train us in our career path of choice (if we've even settled on one), jobs that earn us money for future loan payments, and all-consuming drive to find a commited life-long relationship. Being a Bethel student, that last one has increased pressure; we're pretty renowned for the whole "ring by spring" crap.
But today I was thinking that as important the future is, the past should be given a bit more attention. I remember my childhood, as no doubt many of you do, with a certian fondness and longing. I long for the carefree attitude of it all, the feeling of wonder and excitement from the most simple of activities. My little brother and I loved to play make-believe, we played with Legos and Pokemon cards,
and SOCK 'EM BOPPERS. Now THAT was the best toy of all freaking time! You could punch your brother with one punch, and hit his ENTIRE face. One punch! But I digress.
Anyway, as I was blissfully drowning in my little sea of nostalgia, I abruptly came around and realized something. As a young adult in the college world, I am indirectly discouraged from partaking in these childish activities. WHYYYYY?!
Okay that was a little intense.
But seriously. So I thought about this a bit more, and I realized something. As important as focusing on the future is, we NEED to start letting our inner children out to play. Here's a short list of, you guessed it, childish things that college students do more often, but don't for some sick, twisted reason:
1. COLORING. Now I'll be the first to say that this is a GREAT de-stresser. Yes, I do color, thank you very much. Not often, because I actually have to focus on classes and adult life. But I still do it. No shame.
2. Action Figures (Guys) /Dolls (Girls). I actually don't own any action figures anymore, sadly. And the more I look around, kids don't play with these nearly as much as in the 90's. Probably because this new generation has moved onto realistic video games and no longer possess the capability to imagine anything past a TV screen. Uncreative little morons.
3. Disney Movies. Just saying, I have a deep love for Disney movies. Being a child of the early 90's, my childhood was fully immersed in the magical world of Disney. My dad tells me that, as a young kid, my favorite movie was a toss-up between the Lion King and the Little Mermaid. Those two are STILL in the top 10. NO. SHAME. This one I don't press as much, because there already is a significant amount of college peoples out there that regularly watch some classic Disney. But my roommates don't. I think one of them said something about it being "for babies." UNbelievable.
4. Disney Songs. This one has to be a separate subject in and of itself. As you all very well know, the best flippin' part of Disney movies was when the entire cast spontaneously broke out into perfectly choreographed song and dance. Nowadays, I find it completely necessary to BELT all the words to a Disney song I know. I dream of a world where I walk into a room and say, "LETS GET DOWN TO BUSINESS!", and everyone knows what the heck I'm talking about.
5. Hide and go Seek. This was a large part of my childhood interation with other kids. Maybe we don't do this as much anymore because we're three times as large. I definately can't fit in the kitchen cabinet anymore! I digress.
6. Playgrounds. Wasn't swinging on the swingset the greatest thing? They should make adult-sized playgrounds. Because I'm just too big for most swings and monkey bars. Shame. That could be another great de-stresser. AND a way to burn some carbs.
7. Playing in the Snow. I have to admit, I'm a bit of a hypocrite on this one. Yes, I'm a born and bred Minnesnowtan (you see what I did there?), and I do hate snow. My body is naturally conditioned to extreme cold weather, thanks to generations of hardened Norskies and Finns. And I hate snow. Regardless, it still brings a smile to my beardly face when I see "big kids" playing in the snow together. It's a nice feeling.
That's all I have for now, but THIS ISN'T OVER. I'll be back...with weapons. Also with an updated post.
But today I was thinking that as important the future is, the past should be given a bit more attention. I remember my childhood, as no doubt many of you do, with a certian fondness and longing. I long for the carefree attitude of it all, the feeling of wonder and excitement from the most simple of activities. My little brother and I loved to play make-believe, we played with Legos and Pokemon cards,
and SOCK 'EM BOPPERS. Now THAT was the best toy of all freaking time! You could punch your brother with one punch, and hit his ENTIRE face. One punch! But I digress.
Anyway, as I was blissfully drowning in my little sea of nostalgia, I abruptly came around and realized something. As a young adult in the college world, I am indirectly discouraged from partaking in these childish activities. WHYYYYY?!
Okay that was a little intense.
But seriously. So I thought about this a bit more, and I realized something. As important as focusing on the future is, we NEED to start letting our inner children out to play. Here's a short list of, you guessed it, childish things that college students do more often, but don't for some sick, twisted reason:
1. COLORING. Now I'll be the first to say that this is a GREAT de-stresser. Yes, I do color, thank you very much. Not often, because I actually have to focus on classes and adult life. But I still do it. No shame.
2. Action Figures (Guys) /Dolls (Girls). I actually don't own any action figures anymore, sadly. And the more I look around, kids don't play with these nearly as much as in the 90's. Probably because this new generation has moved onto realistic video games and no longer possess the capability to imagine anything past a TV screen. Uncreative little morons.
3. Disney Movies. Just saying, I have a deep love for Disney movies. Being a child of the early 90's, my childhood was fully immersed in the magical world of Disney. My dad tells me that, as a young kid, my favorite movie was a toss-up between the Lion King and the Little Mermaid. Those two are STILL in the top 10. NO. SHAME. This one I don't press as much, because there already is a significant amount of college peoples out there that regularly watch some classic Disney. But my roommates don't. I think one of them said something about it being "for babies." UNbelievable.
4. Disney Songs. This one has to be a separate subject in and of itself. As you all very well know, the best flippin' part of Disney movies was when the entire cast spontaneously broke out into perfectly choreographed song and dance. Nowadays, I find it completely necessary to BELT all the words to a Disney song I know. I dream of a world where I walk into a room and say, "LETS GET DOWN TO BUSINESS!", and everyone knows what the heck I'm talking about.
5. Hide and go Seek. This was a large part of my childhood interation with other kids. Maybe we don't do this as much anymore because we're three times as large. I definately can't fit in the kitchen cabinet anymore! I digress.
6. Playgrounds. Wasn't swinging on the swingset the greatest thing? They should make adult-sized playgrounds. Because I'm just too big for most swings and monkey bars. Shame. That could be another great de-stresser. AND a way to burn some carbs.
7. Playing in the Snow. I have to admit, I'm a bit of a hypocrite on this one. Yes, I'm a born and bred Minnesnowtan (you see what I did there?), and I do hate snow. My body is naturally conditioned to extreme cold weather, thanks to generations of hardened Norskies and Finns. And I hate snow. Regardless, it still brings a smile to my beardly face when I see "big kids" playing in the snow together. It's a nice feeling.
That's all I have for now, but THIS ISN'T OVER. I'll be back...with weapons. Also with an updated post.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Poke Wars: The Pointless Menace
After waking up today in the blissful hours of the afternoon, to the sounds of my roommate playing COD (of course), I began my daily routine of duties. I relied on primal instint to hunt and gather food, leftover spagetti and some cheese flavored Munchies. They didn't stand a chance.
Obviously, I joined my roommate in his slaughter of noobs. After a good half hour of that, I brushed my teeth, groomed my beard...all the necessities. I did not find it necessary to get dressed any fancier than my pajamas, since I've decided to stay in all day. Having (more or less) nourished myself, it was now time to check the college version of "email": Facebook.
Everyone has a routine when checking their Facebook. For me, I battle through my notifications first. It's usually the same; some thoughtless idiot tagged unflattering photos of me, or maybe some high schooler participated in one of those ridiculous questionaire things and posted their results on my Wall. "So and So answered a question about you Jake!!! It's super important and requires your valuable time!" But I digress.
Messages are next, if there are any. Then I check my Facebook games, which I care very little about but they're great time-wasters. FINALLY, I come to the most idiotic and interesting parts of my Facebook journey: Poking.
First, let's talk about the purpose of this. When Zuckerburg and the Facebook team designed the poking concept, what the hell was going through their heads?
Perhaps they were exploring the ways in which humanity interacts with one another.
Perhaps its a big sexual innuendo..I really shouldn't have to explain that.
Perhaps people LIKE it when annoying idiots poke them.
Perhaps there's no damn point at all.
I'm going with the last one.
Anyway, today I was greeted with several messages of "Your friend has poked you. Poke them back!"
I've never felt more betrayed. Just when you think that your friendships mean something, they go ahead and attack you for no good reason. All those years of comraderie exercises, building trust, the sharing of common experiences...all for nothing. Either that, or it IS all a sexual innuendo. And if I've learned anything about dating, it's not a stroke of genius to get "involved" with your friends.
So what am I supposed to do? Of course, I have to poke them back. Otherwise I'm neglecting them and maybe provoking them further. So when they log in, they get a message that I've poked them. What happens next, you ask? They poke me back.
And the whole rigamarole starts again.
Can someone answer just one question for me? WHEN. DOES. THIS. END?! I mean, how is victory acheived in this pointless battle? Does it end when one of us literally dies, and is unable to go on Facebook anymore? Do I have to hire an assassin to kill them for real? But, again, that be would what a BAD friend would do.
And clearly, I'm not a bad friend.
So I guess out of confused respect, I'll play along for now. But I think Facebook wants us to be at war with each other. It all starts with a poke.
Obviously, I joined my roommate in his slaughter of noobs. After a good half hour of that, I brushed my teeth, groomed my beard...all the necessities. I did not find it necessary to get dressed any fancier than my pajamas, since I've decided to stay in all day. Having (more or less) nourished myself, it was now time to check the college version of "email": Facebook.
Everyone has a routine when checking their Facebook. For me, I battle through my notifications first. It's usually the same; some thoughtless idiot tagged unflattering photos of me, or maybe some high schooler participated in one of those ridiculous questionaire things and posted their results on my Wall. "So and So answered a question about you Jake!!! It's super important and requires your valuable time!" But I digress.
Messages are next, if there are any. Then I check my Facebook games, which I care very little about but they're great time-wasters. FINALLY, I come to the most idiotic and interesting parts of my Facebook journey: Poking.
First, let's talk about the purpose of this. When Zuckerburg and the Facebook team designed the poking concept, what the hell was going through their heads?
Perhaps they were exploring the ways in which humanity interacts with one another.
Perhaps its a big sexual innuendo..I really shouldn't have to explain that.
Perhaps people LIKE it when annoying idiots poke them.
Perhaps there's no damn point at all.
I'm going with the last one.
Anyway, today I was greeted with several messages of "Your friend has poked you. Poke them back!"
I've never felt more betrayed. Just when you think that your friendships mean something, they go ahead and attack you for no good reason. All those years of comraderie exercises, building trust, the sharing of common experiences...all for nothing. Either that, or it IS all a sexual innuendo. And if I've learned anything about dating, it's not a stroke of genius to get "involved" with your friends.
So what am I supposed to do? Of course, I have to poke them back. Otherwise I'm neglecting them and maybe provoking them further. So when they log in, they get a message that I've poked them. What happens next, you ask? They poke me back.
And the whole rigamarole starts again.
Can someone answer just one question for me? WHEN. DOES. THIS. END?! I mean, how is victory acheived in this pointless battle? Does it end when one of us literally dies, and is unable to go on Facebook anymore? Do I have to hire an assassin to kill them for real? But, again, that be would what a BAD friend would do.
And clearly, I'm not a bad friend.
So I guess out of confused respect, I'll play along for now. But I think Facebook wants us to be at war with each other. It all starts with a poke.
Valuable Life Lessons from Today's Hit Music
I'd like to kick this off by discussing something that is very important to me. That thing is taking meaningful life lessons from a small group of people that society admires and respects most: musical artists.
By definition, a popular musical artist is the glorious representation of humanity at its finest, devoting his or her precious talents to the pursuit of life's greatest questions: How much drama can i fit into 3 minutes and 27 seconds? How can I effectively make every conversation about me? How many bottles of Jack Daniels can I physically drink in one 24-hour day? What is the meaning of life?
They are pioneers of reason, masters of emotion, titans of frivolous entertainment. But most importantly, they collectively form a wealth of life teachings, essential proverbs that will make any common man as fulfilled as they are. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, their heavenly counsel is readily accessible at almost any time! Radio stations, television shows, the internet, etc. Clearly you know about the internet. I digress.
My purpose tonight is to share some of their lessons with you. I can only hope that you are wise enough to accept their radiant example. Alright enough of this.
What we learned from:
Lady Gaga (Just Dance)- You can be completely drunk, nay, OBLITERATED, lose your only means to get home, not know who or where you are...but everything will be okay if you just dance.
Avril Lavigne (What the Hell)- It's perfectly natural and acceptable to be unfaithful in a commited relationship. Hey, if you've been good the rest of your life, go ahead and do what you want. You clearly deserve it.
Bruno Mars (Grenade)- The only way to demonstrate true love is suicide.
Ke$ha (Your Love is My Drug)- Love has all the same side effects as cocaine: paranoia, inability to focus, lack of sleep, alienation from friends and family. Sometimes causes the need to have slumber parties, and attraction to facial hair.
(We R Who We R)- Don't mess with people who have Jesus on their neckuh-luss-lusss
(Take It Off)- The ONLY three ingredients needed for a successful party: glitter, Jack Daniels, and mass stripping. Also, your responsibilities for tomorrow do not matter.
Cascada & Sean Kingston (Evacuate the Dancefloor/ Fire Burning)- Dancefloors are dangerous places. People spontaneously combust or have literally die from the beat...you probably should just not go near them at all.
Miley Cyrus (Party in the U.S.A.)- All you need to take on a trip are your dreams and a cardigan.
Taio Cruz (Break your Heart)- As long as you give a proper warning before the relationship starts, you are completely allowed to do whatever you want for the duration of the relationship.
(Dynamite)- Some people suffer from a serious disease. A disease that makes them throw their hands up in the air sometimes.
Usher (Yeah!)- A woman is only sure of her decision if she says "Yeah!" 62 times in a ROW.
Katy Perry (I Kissed A Girl)- The quality of a kiss solely depends on the flavor of the chapstick (if present). Also, this is applicable to all genders and situations.
(Firework)- Some people suffer from a bizarre but very terrible condition. One that causes them to spontaneouly emit fireworks from their chests. If you suffer from this disease, the only cure is going onto a roof and sing about it.
LMFAO (Shots)- If you're not able to drink exactly THIRTY-TWO consecuative shots per round, then you need to "get the f*** out the club." Also, drinking that many shots makes womens' clothes literally fall off.
Rihanna (What's My Name)- Amnesia is a real thing.
(Only Girl)- Some women (namely Rihanna) are really into fem dom, as well as the idea that they are the only important thing in the world.
This post will be updated soon! Keep one eye open, but also the other too. I mean, you have two, so you might as well use them both.
By definition, a popular musical artist is the glorious representation of humanity at its finest, devoting his or her precious talents to the pursuit of life's greatest questions: How much drama can i fit into 3 minutes and 27 seconds? How can I effectively make every conversation about me? How many bottles of Jack Daniels can I physically drink in one 24-hour day? What is the meaning of life?
They are pioneers of reason, masters of emotion, titans of frivolous entertainment. But most importantly, they collectively form a wealth of life teachings, essential proverbs that will make any common man as fulfilled as they are. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, their heavenly counsel is readily accessible at almost any time! Radio stations, television shows, the internet, etc. Clearly you know about the internet. I digress.
My purpose tonight is to share some of their lessons with you. I can only hope that you are wise enough to accept their radiant example. Alright enough of this.
What we learned from:
Lady Gaga (Just Dance)- You can be completely drunk, nay, OBLITERATED, lose your only means to get home, not know who or where you are...but everything will be okay if you just dance.
Avril Lavigne (What the Hell)- It's perfectly natural and acceptable to be unfaithful in a commited relationship. Hey, if you've been good the rest of your life, go ahead and do what you want. You clearly deserve it.
Bruno Mars (Grenade)- The only way to demonstrate true love is suicide.
Ke$ha (Your Love is My Drug)- Love has all the same side effects as cocaine: paranoia, inability to focus, lack of sleep, alienation from friends and family. Sometimes causes the need to have slumber parties, and attraction to facial hair.
(We R Who We R)- Don't mess with people who have Jesus on their neckuh-luss-lusss
(Take It Off)- The ONLY three ingredients needed for a successful party: glitter, Jack Daniels, and mass stripping. Also, your responsibilities for tomorrow do not matter.
Cascada & Sean Kingston (Evacuate the Dancefloor/ Fire Burning)- Dancefloors are dangerous places. People spontaneously combust or have literally die from the beat...you probably should just not go near them at all.
Miley Cyrus (Party in the U.S.A.)- All you need to take on a trip are your dreams and a cardigan.
Taio Cruz (Break your Heart)- As long as you give a proper warning before the relationship starts, you are completely allowed to do whatever you want for the duration of the relationship.
(Dynamite)- Some people suffer from a serious disease. A disease that makes them throw their hands up in the air sometimes.
Usher (Yeah!)- A woman is only sure of her decision if she says "Yeah!" 62 times in a ROW.
Katy Perry (I Kissed A Girl)- The quality of a kiss solely depends on the flavor of the chapstick (if present). Also, this is applicable to all genders and situations.
(Firework)- Some people suffer from a bizarre but very terrible condition. One that causes them to spontaneouly emit fireworks from their chests. If you suffer from this disease, the only cure is going onto a roof and sing about it.
LMFAO (Shots)- If you're not able to drink exactly THIRTY-TWO consecuative shots per round, then you need to "get the f*** out the club." Also, drinking that many shots makes womens' clothes literally fall off.
Rihanna (What's My Name)- Amnesia is a real thing.
(Only Girl)- Some women (namely Rihanna) are really into fem dom, as well as the idea that they are the only important thing in the world.
This post will be updated soon! Keep one eye open, but also the other too. I mean, you have two, so you might as well use them both.
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