I’m nervous ’cause Kanye and Budden have been awful quiet lately.


Until the next e-storm breaks,

join me, won’t you, in gazing upon a Lansing, MSU, pre-Association Earvin Johnson, young n’ fine in ’79. All the dudes say damn, all the ladies say swoon, all the people of both genders say Pro Keds.
Courtesy of SI.

If I weren’t from here I’d probably hate the Lakers and every last one of their courageous, handsome, and upstoppable point guards.
If I weren’t from my dad and mom I probably wouldn’t be a lady musicnerd and wouldn’t have the hips that I do.
If a frog had wings it wouldn’t bump its ass a-hoppin.
So let’s stop talking in hypotheticals, people, and just enjoy it all.

I listen to everything at inappropriate volume in my headphones and this, I think, is why I seem to get so much more excited about songs than everybody else in my life. Billy Joel – “Big Shot.” A big fucking beast of a song, courtesy of Long Island and the year 1979, that will always always bang. Just always.

mp3.

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