Thursday, October 12, 2006

Blonde Joke

A businessman gets on an elevator. When he enters, there's a blonde gal already inside who greets him with a bright "T-G-I-F"

He smiles at her and replies, "S-H-I-T." She looks puzzled, and repeats, "T-G-I-F," more slowly.

He again answers, "S-H-I-T."

The blonde is trying to keep it friendly, so, she smiles her biggest smile and says as sweetly as possibly, "T-G-I-F."

The man smiles back to her and once again, "S-H-I-T."

The exasperated blonde finally decides to explain, "'T-G-I-F means Thank Goodness It's Friday.

Get it duuhhh?"

The man answers, "'S-H-I-T' means "Sorry, Honey, It's Thursday!"

Daily Show sums up Bush's Speeches

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Square Pig TV

This is Amazing. I beleive this is my best ever post about another site.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Worst Soccer player ever !

This is Hilarious !


Where's The Goal Line - video powered by Metacafe

10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will, 5% pleasure, 15% percent pain, and a 100% reason to remember the name

I am not really a rap person but I like this one...



Artist: Fort Minor
Song: Remember The Name

Lyrics:

You ready?! Lets go!
Yeah, for those of you that want to know what we're all about
It's like this y'all (c'mon!)

[Chorus]
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!

Mike! - He doesn't need his name up in lights
He just wants to be heard whether it's the beat or the mic
He feels so unlike everybody else, alone
In spite of the fact that some people still think that they know him
But fuck em, he knows the code
It's not about the salary
It's all about reality and making some noise
Makin the story - makin sure his clique stays up
That means when he puts it down Tak's pickin it up! let's go!

Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much
Never concerned with status but still leavin them star struck
Humbled through opportunities given to him despite the fact
That many misjudge him because he makes a livin from writin raps
Put it together himself, now the picture connects
Never askin for someone's help, to get some respect
He's only focused on what he wrote, his will is beyond reach
And now when it all unfolds, the skill of an artist

It's just twenty percent skill
Eighty percent fear
Be one hundred percent clear cause Ryu is ill
Who would've thought that he'd be the one to set the west in flames
And I heard him wreckin with The Crystal Method, "Name Of The Game"
Came back dropped Megadef, took em to church
I like bleach man, why you have the stupidest verse?
This dude is the truth, now everybody be givin him guest spots
His stock's through the roof I heard he fuckin with S. Dot!

[Chorus]
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!

They call him Ryu The Sick
And he's spittin fire with Mike
Got him out the dryer he's hot
Found him in Fort Minor with Tak
Been a fuckin annihilist porcupine
He's a prick, he's a cock
The type woman want to be with, and rappers hope he get shot
Eight years in the makin, patiently waitin to blow
Now the record with Shinoda's takin over the globe
He's got a partner in crime, his shit is equally dope
You wont believe the kind of shit that comes out of this kid's throat

Tak! - He's not your everyday on the block
He knows how to work with what he's got
Makin his way to the top
People think its a common owners name
People keep askin him was it given at birth
Or does it stand for an acronym?
No he's livin proof, Got him rockin the booth
He'll get you buzzin quicker than a shot of vodka with juice
Him and his crew are known around as one of the best
Dedicated to what they doin give a hundred percent

Forget Mike - Nobody really knows how or why he works so hard
It seems like he's never got time
Because he writes every note and he writes every line
And I've seen him at work when that light goes on in his mind
It's like a design is written in his head every time
Before he even touches a key or speaks in a rhyme
And those motherfuckers he runs with, those kids that he signed?
Ridiculous, without even trying, how do they do it?!

[Chorus]
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!

[Chorus]
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!

[Outro - Mike Shinoda]
Yeah! Fort Minor
M. Shinoda - Styles of Beyond
Ryu! Takbir! Machine Shop!

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Love

Her hair is long and strait, and dark like expensive coffee. With unblemished white, so white skin and round startling dark eyes her face is a frame from a black and white movie, from a great black and white movie, a masterpiece. It is too perfect an image, a constructed thing, a magic thing. It is like a moment captured from the now and digitally retouched to be placed back in real time frame by frame only when it is perfect. Her nostrils flare as she inhales long, slow, deep breaths.

I am spellbound; I can not blink lest I miss a moment.

Every movement is carefully choreographed, carefully scripted. It must be. Her weight changes from back foot to front foot; her orientation begins to change; she blinks once, slowly; she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, discretely; her back foot lifts, she begins the turn; her head first, her long hair dancing behind and then her body completing the turn. Simple, elegant, an economy of movement, a dancers poise.

I am in love, I love her. I love her. I love her.

She faces me her lips part. I am still enraptured; I stand captivated straining to hear. I glimpse for a moment her pink tongue framed between full round lips washed with a pale brown. Her full attention is centered on me. Her eyes are locked with mine. My palms are damp with sweat, I shiver in anticipation.
Her voice, "Thank you sir; two rows down, the window seat on your right".
I am complete.