Hey, old lady at the bus stop- I heard your massive foghorn belch, loud and clear (and you could've excused yourself. Manners aren't just for the elite, you know!).
Healthy-looking girl in yoga pants- I totally busted you 'discreetly' ducking into Diva Dave's to buy the latest in stripper gear, so don't look around like nobody saw you.
Chubby gals on a friendly walk in the park- Myself, and everyone around me, could've done without hearing about your latest vibrator purchases. Also you could've at least tried to brush your hair.
I don't know, man. This movie is going to have a real 'Tales From the Cript' vibe to it. That being said, it's official: Shoulder pads are back, motherfuckers (and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it).
Kids breakdancing in the 80's! Observe the following playlist that I made last night:
In music videos! On sitcoms! So great! Now, I'm not talkin' 'bout the breakers of today. No, sir. I'm not going to offer any promotion for rich Italian kids that started dancing because they wanted to resist Adidas track suits going out of style. I don't want to support the dudes that start windmilling in the middle of a crowded dancefloor to get attention. Would I be unpopular if I said that modern b-boying is bullshit? Fine. That's just how I feel.
Needless to say, my new favorite thing is watching videos from the early 80's of poor New York kids busting out moves in the middle of the streets... The same kids that folks like Lionel Ritchie and Gladys Knight (side note- God damn, bitch can still siiiiiing after all of these years) recognized and yanked off of the streets to star in their early-MTV masterpieces. The same kids that had to head over to the set of Silver Spoons to teach Ricky Schroeder how to uprock, and to the Hershey commercial set to show a group of non-threatening youth how to feign street cred for the sake of hawking chocolate bars.
The best part abut all of this is after some breakers started to make money, and spend their new-found pocket change on bright white shell-toes and gigantic chains that they had thought about buying for years and years. Rags to riches? That's what I AM talkin' 'bout.
Best shit ever, right?
xoxo ~sarah p.
p.s. On the topic of rags to riches stories, I saw Soulja Boy on MTV cribs the other day (Tell Em!), and it was probably the cutest episode I'd ever seen. He took the cameras around his 800 square foot apartment, showing off his Playstation 2 and his Dell desktop computer. He had beanbag chairs, a bare fridge, a duffel bag full of money, and a solid gold Rolex on his night stand. Something about the perfect mix of luxury and poverty had me downloading this track at lightning speed.
p.p.s. Look, guys, I'm not going to dance around the obvious: I'm been a little absent from the online world, but guess what? I've been soaking up some vitamin D outside and drinking in country clubs and going on boats and chasing bunnies, and it's been really fun. However, the hint of crispness in the air today reminded me that there's a whole world of shit I still need to tell you guys about. Friends again?
Hey, old lady at the bus stop- I heard your massive foghorn belch, loud and clear (and you could've excused yourself. Manners aren't just for the elite, you know!).
