August 4th, 2009

good grief

Oh, LJ Writer's Block, you're so delighfully idiotic

Writer's Block

Imagine you manage a coven of baseball-playing vampires. The Cullen family is really strong this year and you want to bring in a ringer. Which currently active MLB baseball player do you sire?


Imagine you are a lifetime account-holder on a venerable blogging/social networking site. You log in one morning, and are immediately asked to contend with the sentence "Imagine you manage a coven of baseball-playing vampires". What possible gesture could be sufficient to convey your feelings on this matter?
more bad news

Jon & Kate + Mindless Hate

I would have gone in a different direction with this.

1. Do not marry a horrible manipulative shrew.

2. If you violate Rule #1, DO NOT HAVE EIGHT CHILDREN.

3. If you violate Rule #2, you're pretty well sunk, but at least try to stay out of the public eye as much as possible.

4. I mean, like, keep your affairs away from papparazzi and gossip columnists.

4a. In particular, don't have an affair WITH a gossip columnist.

5. Don't star in your own highly popular televised reality show.

5a. Especially if you are pretty much a dick.

6. I know this one is really closing the barn door behind the horse, but don't be an obvious dick.
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what have i done?

The Fresh Prince Machiavelli

Yo, listen to the story all about how
I got changed to an adjective from a proper noun
So let me take a minute, now, if I may
I’ll tell you how I wrote a book called Il Principe

In West Firenze I was born and raised
At the tavern is where I spent most of my days
Grammar and rhetoric, studyin’ Latin
Wearin’ academic cloaks of funky-ass satin

When a couple of Medicis who were up to no good
Overthrew the republic in my neighborhood
I got tortured just once, if you know what I mean
I said “I’m movin’ to my family estate in Percussina”

I begged and I pleased with the nobles each day
But the short-sighted bastards sent me on my way
So I wrote about the prince as a public figure
Kicked the script to Lorenzo, I said “check it, nigga!”

Lived under suspicion, I said “This is bad!”
Drinkin’ cheap wine, kissin’ Medici ass
Is this what the people of Florence live like?
I told the Republic “Yo, son, take a hike!”

My homies tried to diss me, said I sound like a nerd
When I say a prince is praised for the illusion of word
I wrote of the utility of a bad reputation
And then straight-up kicked it to a fast food station

I whistled for a coach and when it came near
The license plate said ‘PRINCE’ and had a noose in the mirror
If anything, I could say the coachman was scared
But I thought “Nah, who needs to be loved when you’re feared?”

I pulled up to my crib about 1527
I yelled to my family “Yo, I’ll smell you in Heaven!”
My rep has been muddled by readers with no sense
But I sit on my throne as Big Poppa Florence.