by someone on Fri Sep 17, 2004 3:56 am
[s]Tweedle-Dum wrote on 00:12, 17th Sep 2004:
Your titles became progressively less cool. I hope this is an attempt at self deprication, or can we explain it with "You're an American"?
I know someone called grant, he's like 30 and lives with his parents. In his room is much porn. My Dad has weird friends (yes, that was completely unrelated).
It has just occurred to me that "Funk" is something of an insult in Britain, whereas in the United States it raises the image of multicolor-haired black men playing guitars and rapping.
Having been home for a summer, I've been hearing people call me P-Funk--- a nickname not in any way related to the band, or the party held at my high school by the same name. In recent days, though, the band of George Clinton has weighed heavy on my mind as I seek musical inspiration that the great Phil Collins simply can't provide. "Selling England By the Pound" is fine, really... but "Atomic Dog" operates on so many more levels.
Unless someone can think of any better title for the Association Chair (which by any means I invite people to try) then please, let me know. Perhaps you could pass it through SRC/SSC.
On a related note, I love Preston. I had the joy of being in his flat and saw his wardrobe. I almost fell to my knees.
Related note: Are you attempting to say that you fell to your knees because there was a copious amount of pornography in my room?
If so, I would advise you to bring that up with the Directress of Services, Miss Ryder, or the President of the UDS, Mr. Blair, as they were the previous tenants of the place. Which one is the greater porno fiend, I cannot tell.
Otherwise, it could be due to a few things... most likely, the horrendous
1) random crap I have stored there. Assorted individuals are paying me for storage, the floor is about to cave in... and this one kid's stuff smells funky. And I don't mean in a cool George Clinton way.
2) those totally kickass and kitsch faux indian lion/elephant curtains, which came with the flat?
3) that collection of awful shirts that I left behind for all to see? Those, uh, um, aren't mine?
Knowing full well that people would be entering chez PJ's when I was gone over the summer, I made sure that my battle trophies (the green plastic owl from TK Maxx, the Hideki Matsui stacking doll, the Afro-American color-changing rubber duck, the "Take Back Vermont" trucker cap) were all out in force. I haven't gotten any negative comments so far.
Anyways. This year, I have no desire to be in competition with Ben Reilly for the "worst-dressed patron of LPH." The rumours are true... I'm a-comin' back with formal wear and a bow tie.
[hr]
[i]
Swing down, sweet chariot
Stop, and let me ride[i]
