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Friday, July 14, 2006

Company-Issue'd



"Tartar sauce on my S Dot kicks/Rocks is lit/while I'm poppin' the clips"
Have you ever stopped to think about the fact that Ghostface wears his boss' sneakers? Hip-hop is so fucking Marxist, I swear.

It is now 2:27 p.m. and I have yet to write any of the myriad reviews, which are sure to keep me busy for the bulk of this weekend.

Damn.

Should probably call *cow moo*; I haven't called her since she moved to the place that represents all that this evil in this world. (The Myspace Jawn probably thinks I lost her number.)

Oh: Game Theory's dad can beat up Phrenology and The Tipping Point's dads any day of the week. We'll probably talk about that tomorrow.