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Listening to music at the moment and thought I would give you little BETCHES a dose of some good sh**... Or rather, wtf ever I'm listening to repeatedly atm. Most of this stuff is old... Like, 90's old, but there's a dash of new in there so WUTEVAR.

First up is Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground.
This song has a great hook... Also, it leaves the world wondering; What the hell is "Disco Lemonade," and where can we get some?

Buddy Holly by Weezer gets stuck in my head for a few days periodically... I happened to link to the music video that accompanied the song back when it came out, and the video is pretty genius. I love how they edited it into an episode of Happy Days, and they did it pretty seamlessly too. The part with Fonzey at the end cracks me up.

Everyone has heardIris by Goo Goo Dolls, I'm sure. It was originally made as a song for the movie "City of Angels," (which I've never seen...) but it's a great song with a lot of feeling, even though it's one of the songs that gets the crap played out of it.

Every now and then, Beck has a song that I really like... Mostly I think he's annoying, but, you know, that's just how it is. Anyways, Loser by Beck is one of those songs of his that I like. A lot.
"Soy Un Perdedor
I'm a Loser baby, so why don't you kill me"

Oooookay. Last song for today you guys... I am le tired.

Bizarro Genius Baby by MC Frontalot is the sh**. The self proclaimed "Final Boss" of the Nerdcore Rappers, my brother, (and Penny Arcade,) introduced his work to me. I love it. Normally I detest rap but every now and then someone comes along and raps about something original... And MC Frontalot has a great flow.

Currently listening to: Bizarro Genius Baby by MC Frontalot.
I had a dream that I fathered a bizarro genius baby.
She’s out the womb like, “Dood, why’d I get expatriated?”
Debated at one month the finer points of a diaper,
devised a device composed of a hose and a windshield wiper.
Grew riper in intellect as the months passed, wore a dunce cap ironically,
got fussy once and she summoned me not sonically
but through a series of editorials that she authored,
entitled: “Is MC Frontalot One Of The Worst Fathers?”
Oxford, Stanford, Harvard called, she didn’t call them back.
“Tuition & Housing? I’m holding out for a tenure track.”
Distracted by her first birthday party, I hardly noticed
she’d brought peace to the middle east or at least a cease-fire with the POTUS.
And no dust had settled when she’d disproved Fermat
by finding A^3 + B^3 that = C^3 and her sadness
at throwing the field into disarray got assuaged
by a brand new rattle and a mint parfait.

Bizarro genius baby: at first I was elated, but eventually I grew concerned.
Bizarro genius baby: you prove my genes are Grade A, but what of when tables turn?

She had to settle for the Fields Medal but didn’t settle well,
all the while cursing the indiscretions of Madame Nobel,
and so well tuckered out was she at this point that she napped,
arose with a whole symphony composed in Bb.
“See dad?” Yes dear, it’ll go with the other ones on the fridge,
in between the two Puccinis you translated & abridged,
just above ‘I love you dad’ in macaroni/glitter
and the 37 villanelles to mom (but I ain’t bitter).
And no quitter was she neither when the time it came to walk:
built an exoskeleton out of gelatin and chalk
which allowed her to run thirty miles an hour ‘round the yard.
You think that parenting your normal little children is hard?
I got scarred, scared, scampered at by holographic artifacts
that she projected on the scene with a machine that automatically
discerns your worst concerns & makes them visible.
She deemed it risible. Her glee was indivisible
from all emanations that the baby would make.
I had to become less hilarious for all of our sakes.
I made mistakes, I’ll admit it. Dropped the kid on her head,
destroyed the part of her that thought of evil. Or so she said!
Now I bred this thing out myself in part —
she quoted “reap what you sow;” I had to take it to heart.
I sought to restart: I said, “Girl, you’ll be a woman.
Can’t be dabbling and dilettantin’ all the time, I’m assuming.
Got to pick a theme and focus the beam of your brain power.”
Her face became overcome with an insane glower
and then it remained sour. She said, “Oh, I have.
Though the UI that you gave me was buggy I finally found me the nav.
And I’m dialing in a career path I think you’ll like.
Began when I played with an 808 and it ends with a mic.”
I didn’t need her to elaborate at all.
She was already wearing the glasses, mic in the palm.
She planned to become a nerdcore rapper just like me
so I shipped her to Singapore, sold her baby a** to Nike.

~Luna