Friday, April 15, 2011

What Your Favorite Classic Rock Band Says About You

From McSweeney's Internet Tendency.

What Your Favorite Classic Rock Band Says About You

By John Peck

The Doors: You have been bitten by an animal while trying to get it stoned.

The Who: You own a Goldwing with a baby-changing station.

Ted Nugent: Your hair has at some point been caught in a ceiling fan, boat propeller, or lathe.

The Rolling Stones: You own three cars and no stereo.

Canned Heat: You own three stereos and no car.

Cream: You know a guy who knows a guy who worked on Star Wars.

Journey: You own those running shoes that are shaped like feet.

Lynyrd Skynyrd: You somehow have both long hair and a sunburned scalp.

Yes: Your ideal partner would be into both tantric sex and fat guys.

The Beatles: You can do exactly 1.5 pull-ups.

Badfinger: You are a Beatle.

Deep Purple: Some part of a law named after a young girl applies to you.

Led Zeppelin: The first three things you smoked were banana peels, catnip, and poppies, in that order.

Jimi Hendrix: You are under 20 or over 65.

The Kinks: You have bad teeth and are good in bed.

The Guess Who: You have good teeth and are bad in bed.

Black Sabbath: Your greatest joy is painting unventilated rooms.

David Bowie: There is still, somewhere, a Dig Dug or Zaxxon machine with your high score on it.

Mott the Hoople: You are David Bowie.

The Grateful Dead: Your stories about the seventies make your daughter's roommates at Tufts very uncomfortable.

T-Rex: No matter how much you clean, there will always be trace amounts of glitter on your stove and blender.

The Eagles: You can only reach orgasm while listening to talk radio.

The Moody Blues: You are a former volunteer at the Liberace museum, a serial killer, or both.

Pink Floyd: Your garage is full of failed versions of your stereo/barbecue hybrid.

ZZ Top: Your favorite Hank Williams is Hank Williams, Jr.

Chicago: You are incapable of talking about Chicago without mentioning their horn section.

Quicksilver Messenger Service: You become sullen when people don't stick around while you fix their vacuum cleaners.

Crosby, Stills & Nash: You own an oversized hat.

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: You own three or more oversized hats.

Jefferson Airplane: You make your living buying and selling oversized hats.

Thin Lizzy: You are often forced to change or cancel your plans due to "NO LOITERING" signs.

AC/DC: You only remove your socks to shower, and then only reluctantly.

Aerosmith: You know a store that still sells puffy Reeboks.

Van Halen: You have a Peeing Calvin bumper sticker on your Jeep.

Sammy Hagar: You have a Peeing Calvin bumper sticker on your Subaru Brat.

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: You have an actual urine stain on your Subaru Brat.

Uriah Heep: You are the cause of the urine stain.

Santana: You have had an hours-long conversation with someone before realizing it was just a pile of clothes.

Rainbow: You have worn sweatpants to a funeral.

Foreigner: You have a severely wrinkled Jane Fonda poster under your bed.

Styx: You have a severely wrinkled Foreigner poster under your bed.

Allman Brothers Band: You do not own a bong, but can quickly make one from a piece of fruit or an abandoned toilet.

Bad Company: You have sustained several alcohol-related injuries involving sheetrock.

Creedence Clearwater Revival: You are frequently missing part of an eyebrow.

Rush: You carry a small flashlight everywhere, and use it at least three times a day.

Blue Cheer: You have a subset of friends whose sole purpose is to hold your hair while you vomit.

Boston: Your best friend really likes Blue Cheer.

Jethro Tull: You have a favorite rune.

Steely Dan: You have snorted cocaine off a copy of Remembrance of Things Past.

Fleetwood Mac: You have snorted cocaine off a copy of The Hobbit.

Blue Oyster Cult: You have snorted cocaine off a copy of Type 2 Diabetes for Dummies.

Mountain: You have snorted cocaine off a Blue Oyster Cult record.

Nazareth: You have snorted cocaine off a member of Mountain.

Hawkwind: You sell cocaine to Nazareth fans.

Molly Hatchet: You sell baking soda to Hawkwind fans and tell them it's cocaine.

Bathroom Graffiti Of The Day

I'm a huge fan of bathroom wall graffiti. I pee a lot, so I'm always on the lookout for funny commentary -- fresh stuff, not the same old, "Don't look up here for a joke, it's in your hand."

I saw one of my all-time favorites a few years ago:

"I Love A Rainy Night" by Eddie Rabbitt

(Verse 1)

I love a rainy night
I love a rainy night
Oh I love a rainy night
Yes I love a rainy night

(Verse 2)

I love a rainy night
I love a rainy night
How I love a rainy night
Oh I love a rainy night

(Verse 3)

I love a rainy night
I love a rainy night
Yes I love a rainy night
I love a rainy night


I love a rainy night
Oooh Oooh
I love a rainy night
Oooh Oooh
I love a rainy night
I love a rainy night
I love a rainy night.

Here are some good ones I found on the WWW.

Music Video Of The Day: Summer

A nice way to start your Friday. And mine.

This song takes me back... 2nd grade, living in Griffin, Georgia, walking home from Third Ward Elementary every day with my sister Gina. There was a group of bullies who used to harass us sometimes on the walk. My mom and dad told us to ignore them and we did, but that just made them more persistent.

One day the head bully grabbed the back of my sister's bike and wouldn't let go. The harder she tried to pedal, the tighter he held on. She started crying, the other boys laughed, and I took my beloved Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp metal lunchbox and slammed it over bike-grabber's head so hard that the thermos inside shattered. Everything went silent as he stood there for a second with a blank, shocked look on his face, which slowly began to contort until he let out a banshee wail and ran screaming up the street, his friends in tow. Then I started crying because I knew I would be in big trouble for 1) fighting and 2) breaking my second thermos in as many weeks.

I was wrong--I didn't get spanked or even yelled at, but commended for taking up for my sister. I also got a new lunchbox, because that one was pretty much shot. The punks never bothered us again; I don't even remember seeing them on our street after that. Maybe they found a new route to school.

Then that weekend I got to sleep over with my friend Scott Lindsey, who told me that women wore maxi-pads to muffle their farts. I believed this for at least a month until I asked my mom and she set me straight. After she stopped laughing, that is.

Ahh.. good times.


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