Name:relient k freak Birthday:12/24/1991 Gender:Female
Interests:i <3 music! all kinds but my favs are RK ( a durr) Josh Groban Michael Buble Plain White T's Hot Hot Heat TRS Jason Mraz etc. Just wait & you'll see me all around the world making music. =]
he just makes my day...and one of the few reasons why I have a myspace...
I farted at the gym today during rep 6 & 7. It was just a tiny squeek but certainly not small enough or solid enough to pass off as a shoe sound. Spoken in the true Bungholio dialect, the escape artist’s short song was audible even with my headphones on. I paid no mind (meaning, i didn't laugh) and kept on pushing thru my set. Of course I considered the fact that with headphones on I was also hearing internally, therefore the object may not have been larger than it appeared. But who was this asshole fooling? When I sat up I scanned the hotel’s miniature workout facility to see who else might be wearing headphones, or a scowl. Of the three other gym members, none had headphones. No earbuds. No Music. I removed mine to check the acoustics of the room. Yep, I could still here my fart echoing, steeping in its own reverb. Wow I thought. That’s a lot of amps being pushed thru a 1-inch speaker. I played it cool as if the gas could have been passed by someone else. Maybe it was the hamster lady on the treadmill? Her saggy sweatpants look like they’ve been blown thru more than a couple times. Or perhaps it was the hairy guy in the tank top doing side bends on the semi inflated yoga ball. He looks like the kind of guy who invented that sound. Could it have been the yoga ball itself? How else is that blue ball getting deflated so? The air has to go somewhere.
I think there is a massive air supply between my ears. And farting must be the sound of getting ideas.
You can’t play on broken strings You can’t feel anything That your heart don’t want to feel I can’t tell you something that ain’t real
Oh the truth hurts
A lie is worse
I can’t like it anymore
And I love you a little less than before
This song makes me want to cry, both the good and bad tears...but I love it...well I love the first 1 minute and 30 seconds and then the rest, (excuse my language) sounds like shit...
Of ALL the female singers around, Mr. Morrison just had to use Nelly Furtado's whiny, makes-my-ears-want-to-bleed voice....she's the reason why I hate this song...don't get me wrong, I'm sure Nelly Furtado is a great person, but as a "singer" (if you can call her one) to me, she is the equivalent of William Hung, actually I'd rather listen to William Hung than Nelly Furtado...
