Shakespeare Should Be Proud

Practically everyday I sit in my car for about two hours, thinking.. listening.. watching. Now, it's not because I enjoy sitting in my car for two hours. No. That would be an insane notion. It's because that is the usual transit from my home to work. I get up, brace myself for the morning commute, and by the end of the day, I do a what you can call "a hauling of the asses". During this time I think of little things here and there, watch weird people here and there... You can say it's mostly here and there stuff. Sometimes I do listen to the radio, on very rare occasions if I may point out, and this post happens to be about one of those.

Due to the frequency of my listening, if you were to ask me, "Hey Chat, did you listen to that fly new song on the radio," I would simply answer with "No." "Why? I thought you liked music?" I do. I really do, but that was when music was music. When the "M" in MTV stood for music, not merde. At work, they call me the "music box" only because I know a lot of songs. And when I say a lot, I truly mean an ass-load. Sometimes, I can tell the name of the song and artist by just the beginning beats. But since this little tidbit is part of my superhero powers, I refuse to provide further information on the matter. We shall now continue to our regular programming.

Now, I've been known to harbor some questionable music (i.e. the Spice Girls¹,  Britney Spears², Justin Bieber³). I'm not saying anyone is better than anyone else. I'm just stating that music has undoubtedly changed. Now, if its for the better, I'm not positively sure. Actually... I am positively sure. It sucks now, way more than ever. I have a feeling that in a few years, the electronic age will take over and the sounds of a vending machine will top the Billboard charts.

What happened to music with meaning? What happened to songs that weren't produced just so that an album could be finished, released, and profited on?

I know what you're thinking. "Shit! She thinks of all of this when she drives?" That's a yes and no answer. Sometimes I switch between thoughts of sexy actors to work-related issues, but most of the time I think randomly. So, on my way home from work, I decided to switch to the radio and see what would welcome me on the other end.

Let's just say that I had a feeling on what was coming. As my index finger pushed the "ON" button, the sounds of Tyga's "Ayy Ladies" sang sweetly into my ears, filling my car at what could only be known today as music. Now I'm a fan of the general beat of a song, and this one's beat wasn't that bad, but it didn't make up for the lyrics.⁴ As the song progressed, my mind began to conjure up little ideas, until one stood out in my head as the best.

I began to think, "Shakespeare would be rolling in his grave right now." Well Shakespeare, I have taken it upon myself to become one of your disciples and convert this magnificently written artwork into a poetic piece possibly, if not hopefully, written, not by you, but someone trying to imitate you.

 "Ayy Ladies" - "Good Greetings, my Ladies"

Okay Now Ladies (Yeah) - As you will now Ladies (Aye)
If You Know You Bad (Yeah) - An thou knowest thee of consequence (Aye)
Don't Need No Man, Got Yo Own Bands - Doth not need a Sirrah, Thou hath thy own Bands
Put Up Yo Hands - Raise thy Hands
If You Ah Top Notch Bitch, Let Me Hear You Holla - An thou art a fair wench, Let me hear thy praise
Bend It Over, Touch Yo Toe, Whip It Out, - Bendth over, Touch thy toe, Whip't out  
Show Them Hoes Yo Bankroll, Slang It Out, - Show thee wenches thy shillings, Make't known
Do The Broke Hoe With It, Poke It Out, - Thou dost make't thee with thy wench, make't profound,
DAMN Shawty You CAN Get It - Alas Lass, thou can achieve it

Ughh 1234 Give The Booty 5, - Oh 1234 giveth thee arse a 5
I Like My Bitches Real Thick, Lil More Thighs - I fancy mine wenches with guard, a little more cushnet  
Richer Than Yo Ol' Head, No Lie, Stacks In That - Richer than thine old head, forsooth, Pounds in't 
Pussy Hole, Call Dat The G-Spot, Real Gentlemen, - Raven's nest, Hark yonder thy golden castle, Real Sirrah
...
Maan I Wouldn't Shake His Hand With Ah Broke Hand, - Sirrah, I doth not shake his glove with a worn one ...
Make A Bitch Strip Butt-Naked Like She Pole Dance, - Maketh a wench unfold arse exposed, fancied as a dancer of the Maypole 
...
Grab A Friend, Then Tell Her This This This, - Take hold of thy cousin, Bid her this this this
Yup Yup - Aye Aye

NOTE: Lyrics have been shortened due to excess use of the Chorus.

NOTE TWO: I am, or in no way, a student of Shakespearean literature. I take no responsibility for the imperfection/authenticity of the Shakespearean phrases... unless it is written correctly. 

NOTE THREE: I was about to "Shakespearesque" the whole song, but I thought, "Wait Chat! You actually have a life." 

---

¹ Don't judge me. First of all, you know nothing about the Spice Girls.

² She's fucking Britney Spears. What'd you expect?

³ I have no idea why this child is on my iPod. I will attribute this flaw to my sister.

⁴ My musical preference is extended, physically and literally. I fear that if I begin to write about what I like, this post will convert itself into a short story. This is not what I want, so for now, I will not touch base about my musical tastes until later.

The Failure of the Nail Excursion

There was a point in my life, exactly three months ago, when I had this fanaticism with decorating my nails. Every time I saw someone with decorated nails, I would "Ooo" and "Ahh", but secretly I envied them and vowed that I would have the best nails in the land. This "nail fix" knew no bounds; even had me creating Pinterest boards on how many different ways I could decorate, manipulate, and paint my nails.

Newspaper nails? Yep, I have that tutorial, in French as well. Checkerboard black with a hot pink background? Yes again, though I still don't know if it requires a stencil or not. Floral nails? Serious? Are you fucking with me? You must of spent your whole damn day making those tiny flowers on something that's going to chip when you wipe your ass.

Regardless, it was a very low point in my life, this nail fixation, and there was a time that it reached an all time low. It was about the time that Sally Hansen had released her "Salon Effects." If you haven't had the chance to look upon this wonderful product, they are simply just decals for nails of "salon" designs that you MAGICALLY apply to your nails. It's that simple.


I believe this is what ensued in the minds behind Sally Hansen when they thought of this magnificent product:

- start commercial -

First Girl - "OH EM GEE, is that you Kelly?"

Kelly - "Hey Girl! What's up?"

First Girl - "Nothing much! Just getting some shopping done! How are you? Are you still with Jose?"

Kelly - "No, I left that cheating motherfucker's ass long time ago!"

First Girl - "GGGGiiirrrrllll! You know it! Lying son-of-a-bitch's need to get their asses handed to them!"

Kelly - "For real y'all!"

First Girl - "And OH EH GEE, how cuters are your nails!"

Kelly - "Thanks Girl! I got them did at a salon!"

*Kelly winks at camera*

- end commercial -


Practically every magazine, commercial, and bus banner¹ had that stupid nail shit advertised. And I was the moron who just had to have it. So one day, I planned it all out. I would walk to my local pharmacy store, grab one (or two) of the designs that I wanted, and walk back home, proud as ever of my purchase, ready to apply these wondrous products to my gorgeous hands and be the jealousy of all my coworkers the following day.

But alas, this was not the case. I remember that I began to chronicle my expedition for nail perfection only because I believed that, in the end, I would be victorious in this on-going battle waged against others with known nail perfection unbeknownst to them. So here begins the short, sad story of Dangereux and the Failure of the Nail Excursion.²

Dangereux's Log 21-J-2012-147: Just came back from our nail escapade. Actually, went walking, but alas to no avail there was no other options. We are thinking about taking our venture out further. Here goes nothing!


Dangereux's Log 21-J-2012-215: Entered a place called "Sally's Beauty Supply" only to come out empty. If Sally has every supply of beauty, then why doesn't she carry her own! Current Sentiment - Angered. NOTE: Did not realize that Sally Hansen is not the same Sally as Sally Beauty Supply. Apologies have been released.


Dangereux's Log 21-J-2012-226: While entering premises, lady says" Pizza Hut is at the entrance. That's why you can't drink! Because you become an asshole!"

Dangereux's Log 21-J-2012-228: Our mission is finally complete! Upon entering not one, but TWO stores, we believed our mission would have been futile! Yet on this premises, we found our sustenance!


Dangereux's Log 21-J-2012-243: Okay, so it was $40 worth for nails. Current Sentiment - Thinking this adventure could have waited a bit.


Dangereux's Log 21-J-2012-549: So our expedition proved to be even more futile than before. After what felt like a day, but in reality maybe one to two hours, the application of the nail stickers basically looks like crap. There's no sugar coating it. The only thing I was proud of is the two black nails I painted.

And those two black nails were the sexiest ever painted.

---

¹ Exaggeration.

² Yes, that whole beginning was an prologue of sorts.

NOTE: Yes, post was written in chivalrous form. No, it wasn't inspired by John Malkovich.

Me & Mr. Eloquence

Okay, this post is an urgent one¹ because I keep having the same exact thought whenever this damned commercial keeps playing on the wonder that is television.

Just a few days ago, I was idly attempting to write my first blog post in what seemed like a decade of writing, when all of a sudden I was hailed by my wondrous sister to join her in the activity of family time by the television set. Unfortunately for me, the channel was turned to American Idol. Yes, I succumbed to the two hours of howling and screaming from various "wannabe" musical artists (I say "wannabe" because they really do want to be musicians), to eventually have tears stream down my face as What's-his-face attempted to perform his first single while fighting back his tears of joy. Let's just say my stream of tears became a river.²

But that's not was has made this post so urgent for me. While watching said television series, one commercial struck me with such "Ooo...Ahh...I'd tap that," that it needed to be spoken of.

Ladies and Gentlemen (or Hello, less than ten people that read my blog!), I am completely smitten with the Apple commercial of John Malkovich. Yes, you heard correctly. Apple commercial.

I know what you're instantly thinking... "John Malkovich?... THE John Malkovich?... John Fucking Malkovich?..." Yes, John Fucking Malkovich. Yes, John Malkovich, who is fifty-eight years old and is actually old enough to be my father because my father is only fifty-three. Yes, THE John Malkovich from the film Being John Malkovich in which I've never seen, but people tell me it's a good movie. Yes, him. I know.. To me, it's slightly appalling and enthralling at the same time, but I can't help it. Here's what happened.

For those of you that have not had the chance to look upon this fascinating commercial, it's basically just propaganda for the iPhone 4s' feature of Siri, because in all actuality, no one uses Siri. Now, I speak, not from a numbers point of view,³ but from experience. Out of all the people that I know that have an iPhone, none of them use Siri. First of all, if you have the slightest hint of an accent, Siri will understand NOTHING you say. For example: I'm still trying to get Siri to look for local escorts whenever I say the phrase "I'm horny." The only thing Siri has contributed to my life is sexual frustration.

In the commercial, John Malkovich proceeds to ask Siri a question. In fact, he just says one word, "Life." (Now, there are two versions of the commercial out there; one with the meaning of life and the other with just a series of straightforward questions.) It doesn't really matter which commercial you see (though I'm quite taken with the "Life" one) because in both of them, Malkovich exudes style, sophistication, and just utter "damn-that's-hot" attitude.

I've seen some of Malkovich's films; Dangerous Liaisons, Con Air, The Man in the Iron Mask (I know this selection may not be his best works, but it's just to prove the point that the commercial isn't the only place I've seen him act in) and there's always been something about him. He has that "je ne sais quoi" trait.

In the commercial, Malkovich sits, tailored to the tee, in a grey, light-pinstriped suit, that sits on top of a blue dress shirt with an elegant, vertical pattern, and a ditsy, floral tie that adds just the right punch of color for a man of his stature and style. Surrounded by a sophisticated and modern ambiance that could pass as his study, he is situated in the middle of the room, window drapes opened to let in the sun. As he proceeds to ask Siri his question, she responds with her more-than-perfect answer. He, in turn, remarks on the exceptional answer Siri has provided and goes ahead to thank her in probably one of the most articulate and picturesque⁴ ways of doing so.

I have no idea if this is portraying his actual persona, but if it is, then all I have to say is "Oh My." My reaction was a mixture of being stunned, turned on, curious, melodramatic, and overall just baffled by how this man made looking good, charming, and cultured so effortless. Stunned because I've always found something interesting about this fascinating actor, turned on because a man in a suit with that form of speaking and eloquence gets my motor running and ready to break all sorts of traffic violations (No help needed from you there, Siri.), curious as in if he actually acts this way, melodramatic because I felt slightly lonely and I was still recovering from What's-his-face's performance, and baffled because he's fucking fifty-eight years old and I completely want to sit on his lap.

So there you have it, my confession to being enamored by a fifty-eight year old actor, who still looks great in a suit and speaks with such chivalry and eloquence, that I cannot help but think of him in dirty ways.

---

¹ In terms of urgency, the first fourth of the post was written right after my last post. Unfortunately, things ensued in my life and I am currently finishing this post three days later than intended. So I currently have a new meaning to the word "urgency." It means "not that urgent."

² Yes I did buy the man's song on iTunes. Don't judge me.

³ Because the number might differ than my experience and that I actually don't work for Apple, this part of the post will not be calculated, statistically or truthfully. And no, I'm not going to go through the Internet and research if I'm right or not. This post was meant to be urgent and it shall stay that way.

⁴ Picturesque in terms of that a man of his prestige only exists in the cinema. If there is a man with these traits, minus the huge age difference, please notify me and I will send you an application for becoming the man of my dreams. Thank you.