Category Archives: Photoshop

Pandora Plays 2000s Summer Hits


Everyone recovered from Sharknado? Let’s now go to my twister of 2000s songs.

My concerns (read: bitching) about the afternoon heat forced a couple of changes to Thursday’s run: It made me run in the morning, which is something I’m not too fond of, and it made me run inside on a treadmill, which I absolutely can’t stand.

There is nothing exciting about running on a treadmill. I know people say that running period is a monotonous, boring activity, but when you run in a park, neighborhood, levee or around a lake, which are all something Baton Rouge has to offer, there are always things to see and stuff to take in to break up the monotony.

Treadmill running offers no such thing. Yeah, there are TVs in the gym, but unless it’s a sporting event on, I struggle keeping up with what’s going on. (Although the TV on Thursday was tuned to Fox and Friends and I did get to see this happen live. Fantastic!)

With a potential boring run, I tried to keep the playlist to something I was familiar with and knew I would enjoy — Summer Hits of the 2000s. Boy, was I wrong.

There’s a lot of great songs that came out in the aughts, but there is a lot of crap, too. I got that crap. And with a long 7-mile run, it was 15 songs worth of crap.

Fall Out Boy — “Thnks fr th Mmrs”

I’ve been pretty lucky with these Pandora runs by starting with songs I really enjoy. Make fun of me all you want, but I really like bands like Fall Out Boy, Good Charlotte, My Chemical Romance, etc.

Semi-fun Fall Out Boy story: I stood right next to Pete Wentz once outside of an LAX bathroom. I was waiting for my family to finish up their business and was standing against a wall on the opposite side of the hallway. I noticed the tiny, emo-looking dude standing about three feet from me, but I didn’t think anything of it. It’s L.A. There are tiny emos everywhere.

When my sister-in-law came out of the woman’s bathroom, I walked up to her and she asked me if I knew I was standing next to Pete Wentz. Clearly I did not, and to this day I always wonder if he was waiting for Ashlee Simpson to get out of the woman’s bathroom. And that’s my Pete Wentz bathroom story.

Good job, Fall Out Boy. Go buy a vowel.

Song Energy: 6/10
Run Motivation: 7/10
Aught Love: 7/10
Overall: B+

Kanye West — “Gold Digger”

This, surprising, was not the edited version. With my previous complaints about Pandora’s censoring songs, I was happy to discover this.

Jason Mraz — “I’m Yours”

Crap No. 1

Justin Timberlake — “Sexy Back”

There aren’t many other songs or artists that symbolize the 2000s better than JT and “Sexy Back.” Not crap.

All-American Rejects — “Gives You Hell”

Crap No. 2

Nelly with Tim McGraw — “Over and Over”

This is the Nelly song you’re going to give me? Not only do I find this slow, boring and ridiculous, it’s an abomination that Pandora would choose this as the first Nelly song to play or ANY playlist. I don’t care if it’s the “Nelly and Tim McGraw” playlist, don’t lead with this song.

I have loved Nelly’s music since Country Grammar came out in 2002. I bought Nellyville the day after it was released a couple of years later, and “E.I.” has been a top-10 song for me. But this song makes me sick.

OK, that’s probably a bit strong, but Pandora could have done better. I’m disappointed.

Song Energy: 2/10
Run Motivation: 2/10
Aught Love: 2/10
Overall: D-

Matchbox 20 — “Unwell”

I love Matchbox 20, but not this song.

R. Kelly — “Ignition” (Remix)

There’s also one big problem I have when I run on a treadmill: Sweat. Even though it’s indoors, 7 miles produces a lot of sweat, and like R. Kelly, I struggle to keep some bodily fluids to myself at times. (That’s not the best phrasing of that, but I’m sticking with it.)

Sweat rolls down my arms to my elbows or down the forearms to my fingers and when my arms go swinging, the sweat goes flying. To the treadmills next to me, to the area in front of my treadmill, everywhere.


So gross. So sorry.

I try to grab the treadmill next to the wall so half my problem is contained and pray the treadmill on the other side is open so no one gets showered. It’s a problem, I know, but I do make sure to wipe down every damp spot I caused when I’m done with my run. I guess that makes me kind of better than R. Kelly.

Song Energy: 6/10
Run Motivation: 6/10
Aught Love: 8/10
Overall: B

Vanessa Calrton — “A Thousand Miles”

Crap No. 3, but so bad it should be 3,4, 5 and 6.

Shaggy — “It Wasn’t Me”

Crap No. 7 and 8

Good Charlotte — “Anthem”

Sweet! My affinity for Good Charlotte has already been discussed.

Usher with Ludacris — “Yeah”

Another great song from the 2000s. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Nelly — “Country Grammar”

This song should have been played earlier, Pandora. It’s too late now.

Five for Fighting — “100 Years”

For the first time in the Pandora playlist challenge, I ended the playlist before I ended the run. I’m not running to Five for Fighting ever, and I would never voluntarily allow myself to listen to this POS song.

I had 90 seconds left in the run when I took off my headphones and decided that listening to the hum of a treadmill is better than listening to this song. This marks the fifth straight run where Pandora has let me down with the final song. Perhaps I need to run a bit longer or shorter because this is getting out of hand. You might be 15 for the moment, but you’re also Crap No. 9, 10 and 11.

Song Energy: 1/10
Run Motivation: 0/10
Aught Love: -2/10
Overall: F

There are SO MANY summer songs from the 2000s I’d rather hear than most of these. I did a search after the run to see if the decade was really this bad or if I just just a bad selection, and I flat-out just got hosed. There were a couple of gems, but a lot of crap. And sweat. So much sweat.

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When Boobs Attack

Due to the suckyness of my last couple of posts, guest blog poster Kristen Hansen, formerly of the Kristen Ralph band, decided to relief me of my responsibility this weekend. And she presents a post in pictures.

If you haven’t seen this story, check it out here. Or follow below.

Thanks to Kristen for doing my work.

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You’re Invited! (Well, maybe not YOU reading this post, but others are invited!)


So this weekend Katie and I finally got our wedding invitations done. After a lot of stress and prodding and questions and advice and unsolicited opinions — I should stop — we finally got them done. No, you cannot see them now, idiot. Just wait.

Now this has been a project for a while, and I’ve  scoured the Internet looking at other invites, so I wanted to share some of the awesome, horrible and bad-ass invites I’ve seen these past few months.

This one makes me mad. I hope it’s a joke, but the message board I got it from says it isn’t, which pisses me off so much. Really, Twilight people? REALLY!?!? You people are stupid. I hope this marriage ends in divorce, which I’m sure it will soon if the two are this dumb.

This one apparently has made the rounds judging by how many times I’ve seen it, but if you haven’t seen it before, it’s funny. I like it, you should like it too.

But the most bad-ass one I’ve seen goes to …

How cool is that?!? I question why anyone would only invite zombies to their wedding, but whatever. It’s pretty sweet and judging by how many times I’ve seen it, has been passed around a lot.

I said that was the most bad-ass wedding invite I found, but this is the most bad-ass one never before published, until now. I made this one with hopes it would be Katie and mine. It isn’t 😦 but that only means you can see it!

I think it’s classy and elegant. But maybe that’s just me.

Love, Brian

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2 Legit to Hip(Ster)

So I have been called out by 1 of my 2 blog followers. Katie confided in me the other day that by starting this blog, I have taken another step toward becoming a hipster, and this got me thinking about how many steps I had left toward becoming complete hipster.

Like so many awful graduation speech writers before me, I first ventured to the dictionary to find what a hipster truly is. Only for me I had to go to urban dictionary. This is what it said: (If you don’t want to read that, and I don’t blame you, a summary is below)

Hipsters are a subculture of men and women typically in their 20’s and 30’s that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter. BLAH BLAH BLAH Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often be seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses. BLAH BLAH BLAH  Despite misconceptions based on their aesthetic tastes, hipsters tend to be well educated and often have liberal arts degrees, or degrees in maths and sciences, which also require certain creative analytical thinking abilities.

So a hipster are in their 20s (check), indie-rock listeners (check), witty banter (I guess check?) with liberal arts degrees (check) FUCK! Am I really this close to hipsterism? What about look?

Thrift store clothes (Nope), Tight jeans (Nope), Old-school shoes (Damn, check), thick rimmed glasses (Nope!) So I have the mindset but not the look. How would I look as a hipster?

This is me:

This is me in thrift store clothes:

And tight jeans:

And thick-rimmed glasses:

Sexy huh?

Yeah, considering I want to kick my own ass for making me look like this, I don’t think I’ve got the hipster mentality. Plus I like sports, mainstream music, non-shitty beer and being happy. So while this blog may be a step toward hipsterism, I’ve still got a marathon to go, and I think I’m safe.

So as always,

Love, Brian

(Unless you’re a hipster. You hate everything and you can hate me too.)

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I hate you, trees

Dear Pollen,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. In fact, I know it will because I have been sick for the past 2 weeks due to your abundance. And let me tell you, I am not good when I’m sick.

For instance, because of your presence, my nose has decided to shutdown like the federal government without a budget agreement. Or the NFL without a collective bargaining agreement. This makes stuff I like to do, like breathing and smelling my dog’s corn-chip scented feet, so much harder. Pollen, you also put so much pressure on my head that I have a hard time functioning. Case in point:

During today’s run, without being able to breath due to a clogged nose, and without any balance due to a clogged head, the run was more like a wobbling stammer. Basically, I ran like a zombie. Spectators were taking pictures of me thinking I was starring in the second season of the Walking Dead.

Which would be cool and all, but there are a lot of people with pitchforks and torches where I run, so that was problemental.

And while I’m bitching at you, I would really appreciate not coming back from runs covered in your tree semen. I look in the mirror after a run and it appears like I was in an arbor bukkake film.

When I shower I feel like Jodie Foster in The Accused. It’s very sad.

I know you have a job to do pollenating flowers and trees and all that, but can we maybe just cut it out for a few days? I mean, even the best of porn stars need an hour or so to reload. Maybe just roll over, smoke a cigarette and spoon for a few days. Your female tree isn’t going anywhere, and my sinuses will show some love to you as well.



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