Secret Dinner (Part Three)

(continued from yesterday...)

I run back out and crank up the gas. As I run back inside I try not to picture the newspaper article, my entry on the Darwin Award Website, my burnt corpse. Well that would really surprise Sarah wouldn't it? Probably less so than me cooking her a decent meal though. ok cool. We can do this.

It is again with trepidation I light a match, lift the stove top and light the pilot lights. I open the oven, light a match, protect my eyebrows with one hand and extend my arm into the filthy ancient dark mouth of Mr. Propane.

"Foof!'

The pilot light lights. I take a deep breath, grimace and crank up the oven to 400.

Pftsss...

one mississippi...

ssssss...

two mississippi...

sssssss...

three mississippi...

ssssssss...

four mississippi... crank it to 500.

SSSSsssss...

five mississippi...

ssssssssss...

six mississippi... I wonder if all this sweat will

sssssssssss...

seven mississippi... protect me from the impending explosion?

ssssssssssss...

eight mississippi... fuck it. crank it to broil...

SSSSSSSSSSSS...

nine mississippi...

SSSSSSSSSSSSS...

ten missi-

and then calmly from the long burner, little blue flames creep out from back to front at a slow and even pace without a sound, first the up the right-side, then slowly up the left. wow. cool. peaceful and anticlimatic, unexpected and welcome.

ok I've fucked around enough. I replace the bottom tray.

'foop. ssssssss...'

shhhiiiiitt... I reach for the bottom tray and nearly burn my hand.

'sssss...'

fuck. FUCK! Where the hell is the hot thing holding machine?! fuck fuck SHIT!

"ssssss..."

I quickly search drawer to drawer.

"sssssss...'

nothing. I panic. run outside and turn off the gas, shit fuck shit. What the fuck am I suppose to do now? fuckity fuck.

Dejected, I walk back into the kitchen. Now without a brain clouded in panic I find a stack of oven mitts beside the stove and remove the hot heavy black and dirty metal plate. I look around the kitchen. It's 4:14.

fuck. I pause.

ok ok we are going to do this again. I fan the evil black hole of the accursed Mr. Propane and run back out to crank up the juice.

Light a match, crank it up and ten mississippies later, were cookin' with gas. I put in the fish and close the oven and turn it to 350. I look at that dirty metal plate on the counter and shake my head. I'm clearly the stupidest person I know. It must be in part of the stove for a reason... It's probably some kind of safety device. I put my head in my hands and think again of the Darwin awards. I hope I at least place high.

I start lighting candles by the windows and on the table. and after about five minutes later I open the stove to check on the fish. The burner's off. what? but, but

'ssssss..."

SHIT! fuck fuck. What do I do? fuck.

'sssss...'

I open the door again. the pilot light went out. fuck.

'sssss...'

I look around at the 20 or so candles I lit...

'ssssss...'

...think briefly of the Darwin awards...

'sssssss...'

and turn off the stove.

FUCK!! fuck FUCK!! maybe I can just go to my apartment and... I look at the set up, I look at the time. no fucking way. FUCK. ok once more into the breach my good-hearted Pif.

With Mr. Propane's evil HOT filthy black HOT ancient HOT mouth open I again hold a match under the pilot light. nothing. what? I retract my arm. FUCK!!!!! fuckit. I crank the juice, light a match, wait a second, then put my boney white arm back into the monsters mouth bravely pinching my tiny lit match.

"FOOosh."

ok it's lit. I crank the heat to max and leave it there. Close the door and swear not to open it for 15 more minutes.

(to be continued...)


Today's Song of the Day is "Harvest Moon" by Neil Young off his 1993 album "Neil Young Unplugged."

Crazy fact: In 1966, Neil Young moved from Toronto to Los Angeles in his Hearse. Crazy cool car.

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Secret Dinner (Part Two)

(continued from yesterday...)

I tell ma 'n' pa the story and the plan. They both offer tips. They drive me to the store for supplies: Trout, French bread, Beure, Wine, tasty cheese, salad stuff, fresh dill, lemon, big-assed red onion, tomato and a bag of tea lights, wicked. It rules.

Ok, so I'm house/ Fiver sitting for Cel while she's in France and well, she recently moved and didn't really get a chance to totally move in to the kitchen. Not only that but I think a family of dirty dirty monkeys (or at least a group of method actors in very believable monkey suits) must have lived there just before her, because the kitchen pretty much looks like the watering hole from the opening of '2001: A Space Odyssey.'

anyway... I blow off my homework and start cleaning the kitchen. It's a herculean task. I'm deep in the trenches when Sarah calls and says she's wants to drop by...

"ok, sure baby, I'd love that." (hang up.) "EEEEK!"

Stop cleaning (that's half the surprise, hide ALL the stuff I bought in cupboards and re-mess up a little.

She's wonderful and lovin and then goes back out to finish her errants I tell her we are walking Fiver at 4 on the nose (being a little bit of a jerk on purpose) She looks a little nervous and leaves.

It's now like 2:00. I start cleaning and preparing like a madman. The kitchen is crazy. clean scrub clean, cut the stuff, make the thing, e-mail Anna asking her how to make the thing, make the salad, check the e-mail, chill the wine, check the e-mail, I'm never gonna make it 3:10 Sarah calls. Oh shit. don't come by now. not NOW! fuckityfuckfuck.


"hi beautiful."

"I'm running behind can we walk Fiver at 5:00, I'm so so sorry."

(stunned by awesomenessitude) "...yes!"

'I totally value your time and I don't want you to think...'

'Do it. It's awesome.'

"Really? your not pissed?"

"I LOVE five. Five sounds great." (I'm totally feeling that horseshoe in my ass.)

"...really though?"

"Five on the nose. I love it. really."

"ok. love you.'


Sweet! It gives me the time I need. I set the table, sweep, and totally finish cleaning up, then I look at the stove.

How the HELL do you work Mr. Propane? It's ancient and dangerous as hell looking. Cel turns off the gas at the tank because when she doesn't she smells propane. That is not an encouraging thought.

I go outside turn on the gas, light the pilot lights on the stove top and open the oven. wow. What a nightmare. I look desperately for a pilot light. Light a match and shake with the anticipation of the loss my eyebrows or sight or life as I wave it around inside the stove.

nothing.

That's about the about the second worst thing that could've happened. I wave it more and more and finally.

"Poof!"

Something lights in the back of the oven. cool. I turn up the gas. nothing. just the 'pssssss' sound of gas being released and frighteningly not lighting. just building.

I crank it to broil and cringe.

pssssss...

one mississippi...

psssssss...

two mississippi...

pssssssss...

three mississippi...

psssssssss...

I freak out, turn it off and run outside to turn off the propane.

What the FUCK do I do now? I look for the barbeque. cool. that'll work. umm... no propane tank. FUCK. ummm. I could cook it in the dishwasher. I remember hearing that. no dishwasher. FUCK!

I look at all my days preparations going to waste. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I look around the kitchen desperately and spot a toaster oven.

WHOO HOO! I'm SAVED!

It's in terrible shape, I open the door and take out some papers, some lipstick and an UHU glue stick underneath the grill. I flashback to the many fires I've starting in the kitchen, two of which involved toaster ovens. fuck that. I look back at the terrifying Mr. Propane. fuck it.

(to be continued...)


Today's Song of the Day is "Gabriel's Oboe" composed by Ennio Morricone off his 1986 soundtrack for "The Mission."

Crazy Fact: Ennio Morricone began studying music at Rome's Conservatory of Santa Cecilia at the age of 12.

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Secret Dinner (Part One)

Well, I sent an impulsive, stupid, ill-conceived, fucking self-righteous e-mail to Sarah. She was pissed and rightfully so. I love e-mail. I hate e-mail. It's impossible to pick up tone in an e-mail and all the honest stuff sounded like sarcasm. ugh. Either way, I blew it. It was dumbass.

It was one of those "I never see you"/ "I'm last on your list" sort of things. You know how it is. One of the dumbest parts was the whole 'your dance group is ruining my life" part, ok I'm exaggerating a bit, but that's kinda what it sounded like. ugh. Sarah LOVES her dance group, it was just plain....uuugh. Anyway. We work it out, I assume full dumbassdom and that's that. Even though I'm a dumbass she puts in an extra effort and we have a super retarded good 'us' day the next day. Now, filled to the brim with quality time, I feel like an idiot, though I'm a very happy idiot.

The next day we get up and she decideds to take some overdue alone time. I'm so happy to let her 'cause I'm now feeling stupid and feeling grateful, if I get anymore humble and I might start to cry and turn to mud. She heads off.

I'm sitting there staring at my computer thinking about how lucky I am... I HAVE to do something for her. I've been pretty fucking broke recently and Sarah has been generously footing the bill. I'm such a dickhole, she does so much for me and I'm all... ugh! I can't do any homework. All I can think about is 'since when did I become the kind of person who whines about 'not spending enough time blah blah blah' and doesn't pull there weight and tries to get in between someone and their passions.

I'm the 'rational' guy. The fuckin' mister independent 'let me get the bill' guy. I'm the 'annoyingly hyper-sensitive to the gender division of labour' guy. The fights the fight against any possible or perceived sexism, and yet is seemingly incapable of cooking one damn meal, while my super kick-ass girlfriend cooks them all (and how! I've always been lucky that way, my girlfriends were all wicked cooks.) and I'm a hopeless slob.

Evil Inner Pif pipes up... Hey Pif, what happened to integrity? Remember your rants about integrity, and 'I quit smoking out of blah blah blah.' What self righteous crap-o-la. You are SO full of shit, I can't believe she can't smell you when she walks in the door. Did you fart? No, that smell is coming from your mouth, it's the smell of all the bullshit your spewing forth into the ether, for anyone who'll listen, er smell. 'hey, I'm really interested in what you have to say, but I have to go cause I can't stand the smell!

The bastard is really going, fueled on by 20 mg of methylphenidate. I'm staring at my computer stunned by my own LAMENESS. The tool-o-meter is near peaking in my mind.

"WHO AM I?!"

The phone rings.


Dad: How about we come over with that money we owe you.

Pif: Yo pops, that would be awesome!

Dad: Ok see you soon.

Pif: cool.


Money is an interesting thing. Changes your whole outlook.

"Dude! I can't totally cook her a surprise supper to thank her for being such a kick-ass girlfriend." Good hearted Pif was feverishly digging my self-esteem out of the grave Evil Inner Pif was burying him in, "and I'll give her a little spending cash for her trip to Poland!" (Her Polish dance group is going to Poland to perform.)

Good-hearted Pif is a victorious genius! It's perfect! You got the cooking thing. the surprise thing, the supporting her interests thing, the showing your gratitude thing, the pulling your weight thing, I'll clean up as I go so I got the 'not a slob' thing and she doesn't have to do a thing. awesome. i love it. I can make that really tasty easy fish-thing Anna taught me to make. I'm totally pumped.

What the hell was in that really tasty easy fish-thing taught me to make?

hmm...fuck it. I'll wing it.

(to be continued...)


Today's Song of the Day "Love In Vain" by The Rolling Stones off their 1969 album 'Let It Bleed.'

Crazy Fact: Shortly after he was fired from the group, Brian Jones was found dead in a swimming pool.

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And it's not even a dry heat.

It's too hot for Canada. I suffer through shitty fucking depressing winters comforted by the knowledge that it can only get so hot in the summer and is therefore, worth it.

THIS SUCKS!!!

I can't take off my skin.
I can't live in the bathtub.
I'm NOT walking around without a shirt on.

and most importantly I'm NOT living in a tropical zone. See, live in a tropical zone and you tell yourself 'well fuck and least I never have to walk through slush.'

This is a fucking rip off.


Today's Song of the Day "Fire" by Ohio Players off there 1974 album "Fire."

Crazy Fact: Their original name was the Ohio Untouchables.

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A Goodbye.

We were at my Grandfathers cottage on lake Somethingerother, I'm sure I couldn't pronounce it. I was only 4.

"Don't you touch that stove. You hear me?!'

I looked at the stove, I kinda wanted to touch it. I looked back at him.

"You steer clear of that stove. Just stay away from it."

He had my hand and was pointing at the stove. I looked back at the stove. I wonder what it tastes like.

"buh why..."

"JEEEESUS Christ! Just don't even go near it. It's hot. If you go near it... there'll be big trouble mister! I mean it."

He meant it. But... I wonder if this is a 'no cookies before supper' kinda rule. The kind that you like to break, the kind let you break every once in a while. I look back at him blankly.

"You understand? Stay away from it or I'll tan your hide."

"k..."

I walk around the wood pile. bored. I play with some toys. bored. I walk in ever smallers circles following the pattern in the big living room rug. Fun! But I get to the middle and have no where else to go. I look around. bored.

High on the counter I see can of ginger ale. yum. I walk over and stretch to reach. Just out of reach. I put my hand on the stove to give me a little boost.

'PSSSST!'

Uh-oh. I touched the stove. Did anyone see? Boy did that hurt. I don't want to get in trouble. I gotta get away. I put my arms straight down at my sides, head down and escape the scene of the crime. Quickly, I go behind the wood pile and hide. Maybe I'll get away with it. Nobody saw. Boy-o-boy this really hurts.

I look at it.

"uh-oh."

There is a giant shiney red blister the size of my entire plam staring back at me. It's just about the scareyest thing I ever saw in my entire life. I start to cry.

Grandfather comes running. "What's wrong?"

I'm doomed, he's gonna know for SURE. I had to think fast.

"uh spy-doe bited meee..." (sniff, sniff)

"A Spider!? Where?"

I point at the wood pile and wipe my eyes.

"WHERE did it bite you?!"

I sniff and turn over my hand.

"JEEEESUS CHRIST!"

His eyes nearly pop out of there sockets as he looks at this enormous, red, throbbing, blister on my little four year old hand.

"That must've been some Spider! What did the damn thing look like?"

"big an an bwack an an howy an an..."

"How big?

"weowee weowee big..."

He was buying it. Everyone was buying it. I was quite pleased with myself. Now I'm not going to get in trouble. It was pretty touch and go for a while. but it looks like everything is gonna be ok.

In the coming days, while I happily walked in ever smaller circles on that oval in the rug in the living room, I heard a lot of talk about 'Goddamned Spiders' and a few 'Did you see that thing on his hand' and a fruitless search through the woodpile for the monsterous alien spider that could've done that to my hand.

I think he saw me staring at the stove and looking at my hand on too many times, cause one day, he sat me down next to the stove and talking to me, worked the truth out of me inch by inch till I finally came clean soaked in tears. He was proud of me that I told the truth (eventually) So I DIDN'T get in trouble, which I was pretty happy about. I'm sure he figured the burn on my hand taught the lesson.

My Grandfathers funeral is today.



Goodbye Grandfather.


Today's Song of the Day is "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas, recorded in 1951, off the compilation "The Caedmon Poetry Collection."

Crazy Fact: Dylan Thomas died of alcoholism at the age of 39.

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Numbaz

I know this is Blog-o-centric of me but dude! I got 1000 hits in a month!! What the hell? That's crazyness. I don't think I'll make that high a number again, I'm too spotty on the entries. oops. I'll try to do better.

Ah yes... a sad song. hmm... I think this might be the saddest song EVER. Damn he was good.


Today's Song of the Day is "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams released as a single in 1949.

Crazy Fact: The leaf fell very very far from the tree. His son pretty much totally bites.

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When The Will Fails You Reap What You Sow.

My grandfather doesn't have long to live.

I think you have to be careful how you live your life. Some people hold their lives together out of pure will. Enviably, you won't have the energy to keep it up, and it will fly apart. I don't want to be at the end of my life with everything of any real value, pulling away from me, slipping out of my weakening grip.

You can't control people. You have to give them a reason to stay. More than money or gifts or material security, if that's so then that's all your worth, but an intrinsic reason. It would be a terrible thing to be at the end of your life and know what you are worth to people by looking at your bank book. Then to look up to see a family turn to vultures before your eyes. At the end of it all, to see your worth to them in their eyes, not as love, but as greed. To lose awareness of your self, and of this life, watching them circle, and wait in the Dusk.


I guess sad song week is held over for a while.

Today's Song of the Day is "Adagio in G minor" by Tomaso Albinoni, Arranged by Remo Giazotto in 1945, performed by Herbert Von Karajan & The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Recorded in 1972.

Crazy Fact: Remo Giazotto, a music historian, discovered a few notes of this work by Tomaso Albinoni and constructed the rest himself.

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Kooking K.D.

As you all know I can't cook at all. I think what I do should be called 'kooking' just because, what I do and what others do should not be in the same catagory, NOT called by the same word.

That being said, I was recently reminded of my favourite Kraft Dinner trick. No milk. Totally. There's my Kooking advice for you all. Lotsa butter, no milk, creamy and thick tastey and bad for you. yum.

ok back to sad song week...


Today's Song of the Day is "Miss Otis Regrets" composed by Cole Porter, performed by Ella Fitzgerald off her 1956 album "The Cole Porter Songbook."

Crazy Fact: Porter was in the French army during World War I, and spent the '20s in Paris as the husband of a wealthy woman.

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I Can Time Travel for Dennis.

Dennis, my will to wish you a happy birthday ON your birthday has given me the supernatural-power to travel through time. That's how much it means to me. It was the Ogre of Guilt pounding at the Door in my mind that gave me this will. My self-image as a 'good friend' was in the deepest peril as that fucker pounded and beat at my gates like a Tolkian Cave Troll. It was in a state of blind fear that I transported myself back in time and sent this message, er, IS in blind fear and under threat of a tremendous heart-stopping shame that I sent you this message.

"Jesus Murphy on the day of your thirty-third birthday, I'd like to wish you a happy birthday. Your the only other man I've ever shared a room with, aside from my brother so in that way, (and many others too numerous to name because of the brief window which I have to bend the rules of time), you too are my Brother."

As my brother you should expect presents late, just ask Jason. I suck.

Though I should send an ENYA song...


Today's Song of the Day is "Born Slippy [NUXX]" by Underworld from their 1995 EP "Born Slippy." (most memorable from the Trainspotting Soundtrack)

Crazy Fact: Underworld also owned and operated a graphic design company called Tomato responsible for commercials from such high-profile clients as Nike, Sony, Adidas, and Pepsi.

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It's Not Me.

So, I started on the speed again. The Methylphenidate this time. eek. it's goal, it's medical effect is to change my personality. very scarey stuff. I started it yesterday and tomarrow I double the dose. jeesus. only to 20 mgs twice a day but it's still freaking me out I have to take 4 a day. and the worst part is it's goal is to make me different that my personality type is 'undesireable' even worse is that I've decided it was undesirable. fuck. fucked. fucked up.

Last time I took Pemoline it was waay different it was one pill in the morning and 14 hours later it's effect 'drops off' and but 'drops off' I mean I get no sleep, ever. I slept a couple hours a night for weeks and months on end. This drug is now banned in Canada for causing liver failure.

Fortunately with this one (methylphenidate) it's only effective for 3-4 hours that why I have to take it twice a day. I have to take it in the morning, but I'm going to have to change my sleep habits, I wonder if I have to change my drinking habits too. There are no labels on it that indicate that though.

Another big concern for me is i'm going to lose weight because of no appitite and increase metaboilism. I'm just little. two more scoops of freak out.

So there's my boring freak-out rant.

I think i'm going to be boring on the speed, which is the goal. it's scares me a little.

When I was in high school they had me pumped up with 113 mg of Pemoline and I stopped speaking, i didn't do anything but play my keyboard. That's too much speed.

I'm also a little worried about sexual side effects. I can't find anything on the net to indicate that but the trying to push an oyster into a parking meter effect is not desired

Am I all focused now? I don't know? I wonder if I'm boring you. Am I rambling in a different way then my usual way? Am I too serious? is that the drugs or is it because I'm a little freaked out and trying to analyze everything?

I'm all paranoid about this... as you may have noticed. I guess it's kicked in cause I took it an hour ago. It makes me a little jealous.. weird freudian slip... I'm mean, it makes my dizzy a bit. Like I want less to go on and if too much goes on then I feel a little overwhelmed, also like my peripheral vision is deadened like a bit of tunnel vision. I'm typing alot and kind of don't want to stop, I don't want to do anything else. I guess that's the focusing effect, which is the one I want so I can get fucking decent marks in school. but I kind of blew it last term. I know that's partially to do with going to paris but I'm too old to get anything less than an A. I want to go to grad school and my GPA bites my ass. I need a 3.0 and I need every mark to bring me up.

I think this is probably boring. I kind of want to keep typing though. again I don't know if that's the drugs of just me right now. this is going to take some getting used to.

ok I'm 'going to change the subject.

no i'm not.

I't really strange to have a will. To just do whatever you want and get it done instead being at the whim of your enviorment, a victim of your surroundings. oops I forgot I saw a flashy light or heard a noise and had to look and it reminded me of something else I forgot to do, which cycles. Cycles of remembering and breifly engauging in series of semi-completed tasks, never really accomplishing anything. Suddenly that's not the case. I simply do stuff. I just do it and get it done. I have such a strong will, an overpowered will without the distraction hampering me. It's a simple thing to do anything, to stay on task, as I had to put so much effort to do anything, to make it through my day before.

I'd forget to eat and pee for example, and get caught circle of remembering I had to take a piss and walking back up stairs and forget what I'm doing and call a friend and remember I was hungry stare in the fridge get distracted, go down stairs and sit down to write an email remember I had to pee go back upstairs to piss then make a sandwich go back downstairs take a bite and remember I had to pee now really badly and run upstairs and not forget because it's an emergency, repeat untill sleep's sweet release.

I think that's enough. It brings back a lot of shit for me, these drugs PROVE i'm not normal and put all my inadaquacies in my face and dance. I see through the looking glass what a 'normal person' is like I get to live it. it is an ontological change. I change into being, a 'more desireable' being, one more like everyone else, and it's easier, it's better and that hurts.

I have mixed feelings really, I know I'm losing something I know it's making me 'better' at living and being like everyone else it's like I was a paraplegic and now I can walk around and evern run. if feels good, but I kind of belong in the chair. I kind of am now a being that I am not, it's a personality change, conscious, controlled, a deal with the devil.

Am I too serious? ok ok time to stop.


Today's Song of the Day is "Mad World" by Gary Jules off his 2001 album "Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets."

Crazy fact: This remake of a Tears for Fears song is used in the film 'Donnie Darko.'

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kicked in the pills

I start the brain pills tomarrow. fuck. it's fucking scarey. 4 pills a day. it caught me off guard. I totally forgot this crazy mission I was on to 'maybe' take the pills again and here I am with 150 of the devils in a bottle right in my hot little hand attached to these cold little feet. what will they take from me? it's gotta be something. I hope I miss it, I hope I notice. I hope it doesn't just die, no funeral no memory, like tears in rain. good song that.


ok what week is it?

(this album is in my top five, buy it.)

Today's Song of the Day is "Blue" by Joni Mitchell off her 1971 album "Blue."

Crazy Fact: This hymn to salvation supposedly penned for James Taylor.

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looking down

this song kills me. it's gotta be the saddest thing i've ever heard. he's like a emile zola meets billy bragg.

it's sad song week. i'm not sure why. just cause. cause that's how I feel it. that's how it goes.


Today's Song of the Day is "Dry Your Eyes" by The Streets off his 2004 album "A Grand Don't Come for Free."

Crazy Fact: During the late '90s, he tried to start a label and sent off his own tracks while he worked dead-end jobs in fast food.

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Geek News

Not that many of you will care too much about this but:

Apple to Use Intel Microprocessors Beginning in 2006

I can't help it. It feels like a defeat. ick.


Today's Song of the Day is "Apple Blossom" by The White Stripes off their 2000 album "De Stijl."

Crazy Fact: "De Stijl" is Dutch for "the style" and this album is dedicated to Dutch artist Gerrit Rietveld and to bluesman Blind Willie McTell.

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Comedy is Cruelity

I remember back in Theatre School at dalousy I had a prof who was convinced comedy is cruelity but at a distance, made impersonal. You laughing because it's not happening to you, etc... Well this maybe exhibit A, because I don't think you can listen to this and not laugh.

http://www.kpam.com/bob/carwreck.htm

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Clicking to Insanity

I'm totally addicted to Digital Photography.
I'm totally addicted to Flickr.

Flickr is this post your photos thingy. The real problem is that I don't OWN a digital camera. But I know people who do, so I borrow them constantly.

These three things are sort of messing me up. The posting them thing feeds the taking the pictures thing which fuels the taking somebodies camera around with me to take pictures all the time. Then in turn the taking pictures all the time make me want to post the good ones and then get someones camera to take more. Then finally because it's not MY camera I feel like I have to take advange of the fact that I have it and take as many pictures as I can, and therefore getting some cool ones that I want to post. And OF COURSE I have to take them into Photoshop and fuck with them first.

I'm doing this all damn day. It's Fuct. I'm officially obsessed.

Here I am: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pif/

fucking great song, crank it up, and get down, welcome to 1974.

Today's Song of the Day is "Boogie on Reggae Woman" by Stevie Wonder off his 1974 Album "Fullfillingness' First Finale."

Crazy Fact: Ray Charles is Stevie Wonder's Dad. CRAzY! No I'm joking he's not, not that most of you would have fallen for it but *I* would have, so... let's see... His name at birth was Steveland Hardaway Judkins... Holy!

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