Filed under: Bored, Entertainment, Music | Tags: Black Eyed Peas, I Gotta Feeling, lip dub
Apparently I had never heard the song “I Gotta Feeling” in its entirety (the fucking thing is over four minutes long!), but I never knew because it turns out that the song itself is actually one short song looped over and over again like eighty gillion times.
Anyway, this video features a bunch of silly Canadian students doing a lip dub to “I Gotta Feeling.” If you don’t know what a lip dub is, it’s because some dude just made it up and then, through the magic of the tubes, it became a real thing. Kind of like Rick Astley.
Guess who has a job now?? Who would’ve thought that a person with hygenic problems like me would ever be able to find a job that doesn’t require wearing a hairnet? It’s a crazy world, I tell ya.
The best part about my new job is that I only work part-time, which gives me plenty of extra hours to engage in my most cherished “unemployed” activities, including – but not limited to – eating candy for breakfast, catching up on thousands of Google Reader posts, sitting around with no pants on, and not washing my face (so far this morning, I’m four-for-four!).
I should probably go do something productive today, like buy groceries or get a badly-needed oil change for my car… Yeah, I think I’ll go do that right after I take a nap.
Okay, so that’s not actually the title of the sequel, but we all know that Irish accents are always funny.
Here’s the trailer for the long-awaited sequel to every college boy’s favorite movie, Boondock Saints. Personally, I think the movie looks like it could use some more shirtless scenes, don’t you?
The good thing about being unemployed is that I’m learning lots of new tricks for saving money. Trick number 1: eat a breakfast of free Costco samples. Trick number 2: skip all other meals.
I’ve also recently moved into a new apartment, which, as you might expect, has been my own personal hell. Having to pack up all your crap into boxes, stuff them into your car, drive a mile away, then haul them up three flights of stairs is something that no one should have to do, and yet here we are, moving things around like idiots after all these years. From what I can recall from high school biology, I’m pretty sure that we should’ve evolved past this already.
Here are some important revelations that I’ve had from moving this time around, which I have titled “Moving Lamentations: An Exercise in Anxiety.”
- Small boxes are for the weak. Rather than distribute my possessions evenly across many, easy-to-handle small boxes, I think it’d be much more efficient to cram as much as I can into a few giant boxes. This is a good idea.
- I must stop buying things just because they are funny/fucking adorable. My main goal for my new apartment is to make it look like a mature adult lives here, which means no more puppy/kitten pictures on the walls, no more stuffed aminals, and definitely no more pirate-themed posters that say “YE CAN HAVE ME CHEST, BUT LEAVE ME BOOTY ALONE.”
- Elevators are underrated. No elevators in my new building, eh? That’s fine, I doubt I’ll be needing a bed any time soon anyway.
- Why do I own all of this stupid shit? Turns out I own a rain stick. Neato!
- I must not, under any circumstances, get rid of any of it. Every item that I own has a dear place in my heart. (Except for the iDog that my mom gave me for Christmas a few years back. If I accidentally turn it on while rummaging through my stuff, it won’t stop emitting little digital barking noises. It’s like a Furby minus the terrifying.)
Today is my birthday, so I suggest you go out and party. At the very least, drink a Jack and Coke in my honor, it’s really the least you can do.
