There is a ton of evidence finally being associated with me and it’s high time we acknowledge it. I’m finally being accepted as a straight twenty-something guy. In the four years since I’ve left High School, I have  let H&M, my fragile bones and my love for colors allow me to appear like a homosexual. While, I don’t have anything against gay men, I think it’s important for people to realize I am not one.

Let’s take a look at my progression from “fashion forward” to “don’t touch me or I’ll have DJ knock your teeth out.”

Here’s the earliest picture of me on Facebook:

Look at this guy! Just in some typical lounge wear, you know straightened hair, a painted American Apparel track jacket, patched jeans. I’m not trying at all! What? You want to make out and listen to some indie British bands? Well OK!

See the rest of the fellas on the runaway after the jump…

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There is a ton of evidence stacking up against me and it’s high time I acknowledge it. I’m becoming a piece of white trash human garbage. In the four years since I’ve left High School, I have absolutely let the semi-freedom of college destroy me as a person. While, I’m very comfortable with the latest incarnation of me, I think it’s important to look back at where I came from.

Here’s the earliest picture of me on Facebook:

Look at this sweet boy with his girlfriend enjoying a delicious lollipop after a day at the mall. Oh, look he has a Metallica cap on. You bought it where? Hot Topic? Precious.

I dare you to follow the jump and keep reading.

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Recently the world has become all a twitter over the latest internet social-networking site to wow the web. I am of course talking about the Netscape Forum Center Twitter. I’m sure most of you are familiar with the site, you may even be members. If you are a member I would encourage you to follow SmartassRadio (DJ) and myself, if you are so inclined. Twitter is a bit of an enigma for me: I don’t know why I like it, yet I do. I have a problem with most everything on the site, specifically the jargon that it has developed. For example, DJ now tweets more often than he roars and I (someone who I have always thought of as independent) am guilty of being a follower in 27 cases. Also, the idea that anyone is actually “networking,” rather than “self-promoting” is a little suspect. Ultimately, I have come to the conclusion that the reason I like twitter is because I like to communicate with the world at large. I enjoy the reassurance I feel knowing that someone can know how I feel. The stain of the whole system is that I have to be inside on a computer procrastinating to really be compelled to tweet.

Well, not anymore. Unlike the webmaster of the Netscape Forum Center, when I am presented with a flawed system I try to fix it. And fix it I have. Today, I would like to introduce the latest venue for social networking: Chirpper ™.

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Our Senior-Paleontology Expert Dan Scully recently painted a fairly spine-tingling portrait of the latest prehistoric fiend: Predator X (re: turtleshark). I have been a big dinosaur fan ever since my youth and, like many others, I have always found T-Rex to be a pretty stellar example of what Darwinism was capable of. Still, I am not one of those dinoholics who refuse to take T-Rex off his pearly pedestal. I admit there are carnivores much more vicious and gargantuan (look no further than our senior-paleontology expert Dan “Skull-Crusher” Scully). However, one dinosaur that certainly won’t be usurping anyone, except maybe the giant squid and Nessy, is Predator X. Why? Because he’s a sea monster and sea monsters are only scary to avid swimmers and pussies (often the same people).

As Jurassic Park III showed us there are already more ferocious dinosaurs than the Rex.

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When I think of squishy, intricate membrane where data and emotions can be stored and conjured, I almost always think: the human brain. We can all agree that brains are pretty useful, helping us humans accomplish tasks 4 out of 5 times. But I wouldn’t say the brain is perfect just yet, at least not mine. I’ve come to realize that my brain sometimes retains the less useful trivia (the chorus to “Breathless” by the Corrs, a complete walkthrough to Pokemon Red) and forget the worthwhile information (my ticketmaster username, the Italian language). Why is that? Who knows. All I know is that my brain (who I’ve nicknamed Brian) must be getting close to capacity or has been attempting to reorganize because things have been getting very hodgepodge. Today at Burger King, just before I could begin talking it out with my “Angry Whopper”, a particularly awful little saga bobbed to the top of my noggin: Driver’s ed.

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Why do I kiss the ground that Axl Rose walks on? Because he sings like he means it – right down to the “YOWZA!” at the end of “Mr. Brownstone”. I guess there’s something to be said for what everyone’s musician father tells them when their guitar is too loud: “You can’t have loud without quiet.” But fuck that, if you’re making music that you’re passionate about, why don’t you show it? I’m sick of pussy bands and everyone else should be too.

Without further ado, I present my 5 Least Enthusiastic Singers of All Time. See if you can guess which of the following snore-inducing crooners inspired this list.

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