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All responses Most smiled responses
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Of course. I'd do this by making the shooters pull up on the other side of the car, and take out Suge instead. Bingo! One saved Pac.
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asked by beezmonster
Bare with you? Nullus.
Rooney.
Its not even a question right now, is it? They need to build the team around him and play to his strengths.
Who would you pick? -
Yes and no. I mean, I remember when I lovingly updated every page on www.altrap.com with a cracked copy of Dreamweaver every night. Every change to the front page meant layout changes all over the shop and a load of updated links each time. Then I got into all kinds of cascading style sheet magic and server side includes, and bollocks like that, and had great fun breaking and fixing my site each time until I got that down pat.
Then I moved everything to Wordpress and ended up having a blog like everyone else. That I don't update enough.
I also still post daily on rec.music.hip-hop and the RedIssue forums, as well as lurking over on b3ta, so it ain't like the forums fun has disappeared completely.
I miss geocities sites like mad though. -
Your question cut off, but yeah I'll give it a listen. Bung me an email to atothel@gmail.com and we'll figure out how to do it.
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asked by beezmonster
Nope - I've never even heard of it.
I have heard of this however - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQ2yvL9E4R8 -
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You've been sipping that sizzurp again, haven't you?
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Of course it is. Return Of The Jedi is the Holy Grail of film too.*
*Some of these answers may not be wholly accurate. -
Depends who you're talking to and what side of Belfast you're on - give the wrong (or right) answer, and you might get a slap.
But yes, I was born and raised in the mighty town of Comber in County Down, Northern Ireland. Being that Northern Ireland is still a part of the United Kingdom, I currently hold a British passport, and an Irish one. I'm also working on my US one as we speak. I am Matthew Borne. Fear me. -
asked by huny
Pah. Sympathy questions are the worst. You don't REALLY want to know.
(But just in case you do...
I was about 8 or 9 years old, and was winning the game 2-0 against 2 of my friends. Going for the win, I lined up my throw and then floated it over the overgrown grass and weeds, like Joe Montana in his prime connecting with Jerry Rice on a cross-field pattern on 3rd and 8 to pickup a first down. Unfortunately my quite skilled, but ultimately fatal, overenthusiastic heave connected not with the safety of patch of stinging nettles right in front of the danger zone, but directly with a pane of glass.
I turned white. Whiter than I already am I mean. Like milk bottle white, not just regular caucasion white. Then I shit myself as I thought about the hiding I was going to get. I didn't ACTUALLY defecate in my pants - that would have been disgusting and embarrassing and I would have left that detail out had I actually 'number two-ed' all down my leg. Nope, I shit myself in the literal sense as I imagined my dad beating the living daylights out of me.
I ran. So did my chums. But they had nothing to fear, as they were innocent bystanders.
"A to the who? I don't know him. And I wasn't even there. Imagine throwing stones at glass like that - what a tool" was the kind of comments I imagined them making to their parents as they denied me like Peter to Jesus.
In a blind panic, I crawled into another neighbor's dog kennel, and stayed there as I heard the 'broken glass' neighbor come out looking for me. I stayed there as I heard my mother calling for me, obviously aware that her son didn't get enough practice throwing stones at the police. I stayed there as she uttered the phrase, "Your dad can deal with you when he gets home, wherever you are."
I stayed there for FOUR hours, shaking the whole time as I imagined my father tearing my ass up. No homo. (Its a FUCKING story you perverts - get your mind out the gutter.)
Finally a voice put me out of my misery...
"If you don't come out of that bloody kennel, I'm going to come in there and drag you out and beat you into next week in the street in front of everyone, instead of doing it in the house."
My dad had used his 'wayward son' radar to track me to my hiding spot. Maybe if Bush and co had a similar radar they could have used it to get Osama by now. Wait - you mean this whole thing with the Afghans is about OIL? Oh.
Anyway, instead of doing the smart thing and staying put, forcing my father into keeping his promise, and being potentially saved by a helpful bystander or Child Protective Services, my dumb ass crawled out. Well not really crawled out - as soon as I poked my head out, he grabbed me by the ear and pulled me out and frogmarched me back to the house and my certain doom.
Then I got the belt. Buckle side.
The end.) -
It depends on what I just listened to, what mood I'm in, what I just ate, and what color of boxers I have on...
Today its,
MCs
Big Daddy Kane
Kool G Rap
Lord Finesse
Biggie
Parrish Smith
The DJ list rarely changes much, because nobody new is really out there doing it like the cats below did in my formative years. I have the utmost respect for Q-Bert and co, but I like the 'partyrocking DJ with skills' as opposed to the 'mad crab & flare backward scratching guitar transforming magician' turntablist folks.
DJs
Kid Capri
DJ Scratch
Jam Master Jay
DJ Craze
Jazzy Jeff -
Farmer Brown's Wuster Sauce Crisps.
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I have the next week off work, and during this time there'll be lots of sifting through records, musicmakery, and cheeto eating.
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Camp Nou, Barcelona on 26th May, 1999.
"Is this their moment? Beckham... into Sheringham... and Solskjær has won it!"
The goon of goons.
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DJ A to the L’s Bio
I DJ. I like rap music. And cheese. I hate everything else mostly.
I am a Hiphop snob, who also likes rubbish Southern Hiphop dances created by kids.
Sports are good. So are Cheetos (especially the new baked white cheddar ones.)
