Sunday, September 23, 2012

Confessions of a tween-aged ipod

IPOD: This is an ultimatum. Remove Call Me Maybe.
LIZ: no! Ipod, Call Me Maybe is a good running song.
IPOD: If you do not remove Call Me Maybe right now I will reveal all of your terrible music to the universe!
LIZ:  Egad. betrayal and blackmail, what is next Ipod? how can you despise me so?
IPOD: 3....2....1....1/2...

 BROUGHT TO YOU BY LIZ'S IPOD (and the letter h for "ha ha Liz is a sucker")

My ipod is trash.
It is a very private place.
If everyone saw the contents of my ipod I would probably not have any friends.

I have 2 Nickleback songs.
and Call me Maybe, as aforementioned.

It would probably be a fascinating social experiment to take people's ipods by force and play them on shuffle.
My friends would probably all have “Friday night lectures from Thomas Aquinas College's, “Catholic people and more Catholic people” lecture series.
Or... “The complete works of Aristotle on tape”
What lectures on a Friday night? Yes sir. You heard me correctly. Lectures. Every other Friday night. They are “mandatory” with hand quotes which means that I attended approximately one during the entirety of sophomore year.
But you know what? We are 111th on Forbes' list of 650 colleges. With 350 students.
With no internet.
Did I have to remind myself about that?
As a result of living without the internet for four years I have some joke material on Newton and Kant. Splendid.

In a spirit of further self-revelation, my ipod is a fascinating combination of musical soundtracks and songs that say mothercusser.

Whats that mothercusser?
I found a squid mothercusser!
It plays checkers mothercusser.
Oedipus literally mothercusser.

That song would go platinum baby.
Words in rap songs should be about 50% swears. I find that if the percentage of swears falls below about 50% music is no longer effective for causing me to run faster or acquire comedic cartooning ideas.

My terrible taste in music has some unfortunate side affects however, I frequently find myself blurting out snippets of catchy stupid songs by Rianna, or Lady Gaga, Katy Perry. Which is embarrassing when I am around people who I am trying to impress with my IQ (these people are people who do not know me).
 When this happens I usually attempt to convince people that my head receives radio waves... and therefore I cant help it.
Anyway I am totally cool with all that music, people are like “what rubbish children listen to these days” but there is nothing like blasting some meaningless pop music as you race back to school after having happy hour margaritas, slightly attempting not to be late to evening class, and slightly attempting not to go off the road.
It is a little funny that these people consider themselves great artists, I mean yeah they make stuff (like a lot of money) so they are artists...but great artists? That is some powerful self delusion. If you are Rianna and you think you are as good as Mozart...then, give me your money.

So there are some confessions of a tweenage ipod.

Coming up next week: some strange imitation Faust.
Sorry that there is just this truckload of text here, I was writing dance entertainment for school... please accept this libation
a picture of me as an elderly hick person: 

PS. I have the hampsterdance on my ipod. You guys remember that?

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