• Inspiration: FIFA World Cup 2010 and the grumpiest scan-man I have ever met

    17. Okt. 2010, 5:04 von aznsupragrl182

    Hello last.fm!

    I'm in the midst of state exams at the moment, but I couldn't resist the temptation to post. I have received a number of requests to publish something in my journal, even though no one bothers to comment - hence why I assume no one is reading, which is why I don't post. It's all very cyclical, you see :P

    Two questions were looming on my mind as I wrote this in May 2010.

    1. Having just encountered the most misanthropic individual who served me at the local supermarket, I started to wonder what the life of a scan-man involved.

    2. What do people think about before they die? People's lives don't flash-before-their-eyes". It makes a good film sequence, but I bet it's rubbish!

    This also became my creative writing piece for the Crime Writing topic we did at school, hence the extremely stitled middle section for genre subversive effect (I can't write anything abiding by the rules of the genre without it sounding like a Junior Nancy Drew paperback).

    In fact, my first draft for Crime Writing was a story about online cannibalism (inspiration: Armin Mewes, google him, what a freak! xD). I had written 300 words and submitted it to my teacher who looked at me as if she wanted to call the police, so I started from scratch and ended up with this!

    Anyway, I hope you enjoy this - even if it's just for the soccer ;D



    Felipe let out an exasperated sigh as he glowered menacingly at the endless queue that stretched before him. Thursday nights were the bane of his existence. Once again, he found no escape from the excessively generic muzak that dominated the airspace which deafened the pneumatic hiss of his cash register. Slumped over his work station, his head throbbed in a seizing pain as he clutched at his temples in an attempt to regain composure, but to no avail – his brief serenity interrupted by the screams of a toddler throwing a tantrum amongst the confectionery in aisle three.

    It was happening again. Hands shaking as perspiration began to collect at the nape of his neck, Felipe fumbled with the “Register Closed” sign. He sensed thirty pairs of eyes channel their collective irritation and rage at his general direction as he gingerly slinked away from the register, yelling, “I’m taking a break!” at his manager, who was nowhere to be seen.

    Felipe’s feeble saunter turned into a bolt as his airways began to constrict. Nausea and confusion and panic and vertigo rose within his ribcage as he battled desperately to suppress the meaningless stream of barcodes which began to surface from the depths of his memory. Imprints of binary and parallel lines of varying width tainted his mind black and white and infrared as Felipe ran down the aisles crammed with stacked shelves full of products and price he new by heart, grimacing as his mind strained to forget in a fraught endeavor to assume control.

    Weak with fatigue, Felipe slowed to a halt, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his shallow breathing. Heart rate abating, the plod of heavy, shuffling footsteps became audible, suddenly ceasing behind him. Squinting at the strobing lights that adorned the ceiling, Felipe caught sight of the man.

    He was a short, potbellied man with a face like a kicked-in peach; his prominent jowls sagging southwards. Sparse, greasy strands of hair were gelled in a comb-over that exposed his sunburnt and cratered scalp. He stood unnaturally upright which served only to exaggerate his minute stature as he grinned maniacally at Felipe, revealing jagged, missing teeth. Felipe felt his skin crawl in a mixture of disdain and condescension.

    “Could ya tell me where the pantyhose are, mate?”

    The man’s blood-drained lips quivered as he spoke in a hurried fashion. Felipe raised his eyebrows quizzically, bemused at the very thought of the man donning fishnets. Meanwhile, the man shifted his weight from one leg to another, his pupils darting about the aisle, failing to maintain eye contact.

    “Sure,” murmured Felipe as he waved his hand, motioning the man to follow him.

    “They’re for my girlfriend, you know,” the man gasped, trotting alongside Felipe, unable to match the speed of his gait.

    “Ah, she must be a very…lucky woman,” replied Felipe, lying through his teeth.
    They stopped in front of the neat rows of women's pantyhose.

    “Well, thanks,” the man muttered.

    Before turning on his heel and strolling in the opposite direction, Felipe gave the man a cursory glance as he began to peruse the aisle.


    “Oh my god! He’s got a gun!”

    Chaos ensued as shrieks pierced the muzak dominion of the supermarket, shoppers ducking behind sales signs as they clutched their children, others fleeing in a frenzied stampede. Felipe bolted to the scene, surveying the cowering customers, about fifty in all, wide-eyed and whimpering.

    “Get on the goddamn floor, NOW!”

    Felipe stared, bewildered.
    It was crater-face, his asymmetrical head in an opaque stocking, wielding a miniature revolver. Felipe collapsed into uncontrollable peals of laughter.

    “Oh bravo – makeshift balaclava, Aisle 6. Women’s underwear.”

    “One more word from your mouth, and I’ll blow your fuckin' head off!”

    “With what? Humour me, a plastic Colt? Aisle 18. Children’s toys,” spat Felipe, as he advanced upon the gun-toting assailant.

    And with that, the stocking-clad man raised his pistol and fired.
    The bullet pierced through layers of skin and tissue before exiting between the discs of Felipe’s spine with a spurt of cerebrospinal fluid, propelling fragments of his shattered sternum into the atrium of his heart. It is worth mentioning what Felipe couldn’t remember in that split second between life and death, given that there was nothing that was previously known to him in time, space, touch, symbols, taste, signatures or billboard signs that he would have forgotten.

    Felipe did not remember the significance of today, November the 21st, being the second anniversary of his stale and predictable relationship with Danielle – a woman he dreaded. He did not remember her horse-like features that he once found alluring, nor did he remember what he considered attractive in a woman; charisma and an irresistible grin, of which time had robbed Danielle of both. Felipe did not remember the dilapidated flat they shared; its substandard workmanship and creaking doors, its mean little rooms crammed with books filled with now useless knowledge. He did not remember being enthralled by knowledge in his youth, scouring books in the quest for enlightenment. Felipe did not remember any of the languages he spoke fluently (three), any of the Beatles hits he had ever sung in succession (fourteen) or any of the university degrees he had ever signed up for or dropped out of (eight, and still counting). None of these things did he remember, not one. He did not remember an instance in which a customer was ever right – even though one such circumstance had occurred seconds ago, he did not remember that either.

    But what he did remember was the sensation of the knobbly cobblestones underfoot as he marveled at the afternoon sun lengthening the shadows that slid down the street – a memory of 20 summers ago almost lost upon the chain of exploding neurotransmitters that extinguished the synaptic tinkering encased within inanimate grey matter.

    Transported in a fragment of suspended time, Felipe is sitting on the flood wall, tracing sea chill with his fingertips, the crusty salt-laden air engulfing his senses. The eager yelps of the neighbourhood boys milling on the esplanade in tense anticipation fill the air. The main attraction, a frayed and regurgitated mess of a scruffy soccer ball. He feels his body gravitate toward the action, a small jerk in his stomach willing him to partake in the game. Now amongst the crowd, the other boys rearrange themselves to accommodate his presence. He introduces himself and smiles with gratitude; they acknowledge him with a curt nod.

    They advance upon the deserted beach as the game unfolds, feet pattering against the sand as the faux leather of the ball skims the surface – he’s enthralled, transfixed, memerised; sold on the sport’s exquisite simplicity, spellbound by its physical rhythm, its raw energy. As Felipe’s brain faces its prolonged, horrific end, this memory freezes as his concept of time is lost upon nostalgia and poised consciousness. But for now, Felipe makes time. Time for memories tangled in slivers of music, sand and euphoria; his youth, the sea breeze and an endless summer.

  • Letter IV: To The Sibling

    30. Sep. 2010, 3:18 von aznsupragrl182

    Dearest you,
    You have a gargantuan propensity for procrastination and you are the Crown Prince of Stupefyingly Lazy. Ironically, you spend longer in the bathroom than I do and yet your hygiene practices still remain questionable - your room a health hazard; the world's cesspool of sudden death and olfactory rape. I avoid lending you money like THE PLAGUE because you have no intention of paying me back. Nine times out of ten, you buy pointless crap. You refuse to spend money on anyone else but yourself.

    Example: Your first date with your horrible ex-girlfriend was situated in your crappy Purple Ford Fiesta parked in a full car park, devouring $6 doner kebabs.

    You are passive-aggressive, a creature of impossible impulse, an elected ignorant and twenty-three going on twelve and I let you know it. I'm an intellectual elitist, a histrionic pre-menstrual psychopath, chronic organisational freak and seventeen turning fifty. I know this because you never let me forget it - it's not as if I don't try, but your words stick. Worst of all, I actually care about what you think. Even worse, I cry hard over the things that you say and do, but it's the things that you don't say and don't do that make me cry the hardest.

    But even when I distance myself from you in social situations or pretend I'm superior because I'm smarter (you always say so!), I adore you more than anyone or anything.I love your physical and emotional strength, your jar-opening hands, your bone-crushing hugs, our muted laughter and slurred 2AM conversations whispered between our rooms about everything and nothing.

    You have a tremendous capacity for humour, tolerance and forgiveness. Even when it's my fault, you always say sorry first. You exist in fragments of interrupted sunshine and contentment - the memories of my childhood. You reign in the recollections of my sepia euphoria which pulses in my beating heart.

    Our filial connection is tangible, strong yet unspoken. Our hair, our lips, our eyes, our origins are one; you, always my brother and me, forever your sister.

    P.S. The year is 2007, a deliciously cold December in Osaka. My hands tremble as I take off my black gloves and capture this moment.
    I grew up in a different country and you dyed your hair a ridiculous shade of orange.

  • Letter III: To The Parents

    13. Jun. 2010, 10:23 von aznsupragrl182

    Dearest you,
    The lessons you have instilled within me upon seventeen years of instruction cannot be rewritten in one year, so please don't be afraid that I'll change. I have a feeling that the more I ridicule you about how pathetic your fears are, the more you believe them to be true.

    Trust me on this, please! I adore you way too much to leave and never come back. In fact, you are the part of the reason why I would choose to stay, only because I can't bear to see you miss me.

    You have always believed in me and you have encouraged me to turn my dreams into reality. I'm doing just that, and I know you're proud. I acknowledge that the sacrifices you have made in the past have been great. It is through your experiences and noble attitude that you have taught me to treasure the fragility and beauty that is life, to acknowledge my ancestry and embrace adversity.

    When people compliment me, they're really complimenting you.
    I love you more than I can say.

    On another note...
    I find it hard to muster any emotion reminiscent of love or respect toward you. I know that you're scared of being a horrible parent, but the irony is that you ARE.

    Once upon a time, you did hurt me. But these days, if I were to treat people the way you do and blame it on my upbringing, I'd be just as bad as you.

    I'm nothing like you, and that is my biggest achievement to date.
    I'm confident, I work hard, I'm talented, I've got potential. I love, I empathise, I tolerate.
    What's more, I love being the person I am.
    I'm not going to let you make my life a misery, just because you go out of your way to tell me that you don't like me.

    You need to realise that the only person you are hurting is yourself. Maybe one day this will end with a happily ever after.
    But in order for that to happen, you need to turn the pages.
  • Letter II: To The Crush

    11. Jun. 2010, 11:36 von aznsupragrl182

    To a son and defender of the beautiful game, my Bundesliga superstar.
    I often like to daydream that I could call you my own. All of you - your physical rhythm, your grace and air, that I could be the catalyst for your every smile, that I could embrace every inch of your 5''7'. Alas, you are the property of Germany.. and the unwitting recipient of my adolescent adulation :D


    To a studmuffin (all those cupcakes have nothing on how cute you are).
    I wasn't even looking when you graced my life with your presence. And then you found me. You, a Western European god, with your quite confidence and beautiful soul. You impress me!
    You make every moment special and I love getting to know you more and more each day.
    Won't you forget your shyness, your gentleman's tact, your self-control or your chivalry just for a minute and say that you want me as much as I want you?


    You have the X Factor (and you love The xx).
    You will forever be the secret keeper of my deepest affections. I try to convince myself that you mean nothing to me and I also make it a habit to look for distractions (see above). I hate that you seem to choose to surrender. Won't you fight for what you want?

    If one day you decide to partake in the battle, a part of me will always be here waiting to be (and wishing to be) your lover with arms.
  • Letter I: To The Best Friend

    10. Jun. 2010, 12:34 von aznsupragrl182

    Dear you, best friend:

    If I punched myself in the face for every time I got angry at myself for not making proper contact with you, I'd be a permanent installment in hospital, along with the crappy fake flowers and the disinfectant.

    The trouble is, you'd probably be in the ward next to me, cracking your stupid jokes and that grin that I've always found so hard to resist. We've both been to emergency before, we know the situation well. We operate - defibrillation for our broken hearts, lobotomies for our addled minds, dresses for lacerations.
    Nothing like hospital retail therapy.

    But no matter how agonising or bloody or gruesome or embarrassing or emotional surgery between you and me often gets, you've made the great operation that is life the single most human experience that I've ever had. It's only when I'm on the brink of dying on the operating table that I feel the greatest urge to fight as a testament to the wonderful work that you do.

    And it's this makeshift practice that we've both acquired in lessons of triumph and disaster that makes me know that you'll be a wonderful surgeon one day. I will travel the world and extend the universal goodwill you have installed within me - a new heart.

    Operate on me always as I will continue to spark life in you.

    "My mind tells
    me to give up, but my heart
    won't let me."

  • 30 Letters from Me to You (the reincarnation of my last.fm journal)

    10. Jun. 2010, 11:50 von aznsupragrl182

    Gosh, I've realised that it's been a ridiculous amount of time since my last post - more than a year, in fact! Can you believe it? I've really missed writing stuff here.

    Something cute that you should all see:

    Unlike everything else that I stumble upon on tumblr (which I absolutely hate. Blogging for people who can't find words to say, thus supplement with "shocking" pictures, quotes and bullshit), I found something rather interesting on a friend's page.

    It's called 30 Letters. Each day, you write one letter addressed to the following people, like so:

    Day 1 — Your Best Friend
    Day 2 — Your Crush
    Day 3 — Your parents
    Day 4 —Your sibling (or closest relative)
    Day 5 — Your dreams
    Day 6 — A stranger
    Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
    Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
    Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
    Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
    Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
    Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
    Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
    Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
    Day 15 — The person you miss the most
    Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
    Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
    Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
    Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
    Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
    Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
    Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
    Day 23 — The last person you kissed
    Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
    Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
    Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
    Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
    Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
    Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
    Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

    I'll probably give up, but I'm gonna give it a shot! I'm anticipating that it'll get really tedious after a while, but what the fuck. It looks like a good way to write every day for 30 days.

    Also, I think I'll elect to keep identities secret, but in utilising my true talent for tact (of which I hardly have any), if the subject matter is YOU, YOU will know who YOU are ;D

  • The things I HATE: Part 2, Let's talk about Homophobia

    22. Jun. 2008, 12:53 von aznsupragrl182

    Last night, upon surfing lastfm journals, I came across a really interesting one discussing homosexuality and I'm pleased to say that I feel really driven to give my ten cents worth about this particularly contentious issue that tends to divide our society.

    Now if you haven't picked up on my bias already, I'll say it now. Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES do I tolerate discrimination in any form, especially homophobia.

    Homophobia is the product of ignorance, misinformation and fear - three fundamental things that are commonly the root of all discrimination. I can't exactly relate because I'm not a lesbian, and in NO CONTEXT am I saying that my situation is worse than the daily persecution of homosexuals, but being of an ethnic background gives me certain insight on what it feels like to be on the receiving end of prejudice.

    Notice that I'm talking about homophobia that is acted upon in terms of violence, isolation, verbal assault and so forth. I mean, there's no point talking about people who are completely passive with their homophobia anyway, because they aren't the problem! And for argument's sake, let's talk gay guys - not that this issue doesn't affect lesbians, but I believe the hate is more universal toward gay men.

    So what drives homophobia? Talk to any pro-active male homophobe (in which I have: high school is, in accordance with popular belief, a breeding ground for sexuality-based ignorance) and he will attempt to justify his actions with arguments which simply, in essence, boil down to a number of pathetic schools of thought, including the following, all of which are easily refuted.

    • 1. "Gay men will make moves on me"
      Contrary to popular belief, not every gay man wants to screw you. What self-respecting gay man would waste his affections on an openly obnoxious homophobe? This mindset is clearly driven by narcissism and arrogance. Gay men are incredibly selective - more-so than straight women, and if women don't find you attractive, never you mind about gay men even sparing seconds to think about you.
    • 2. "They choose to be different, therefore deserve to be victimised"
      a) I don't believe sexuality is something that can be decided, like choosing which t-shirt you want to wear. Do you HONESTLY think people would CHOOSE an option that exposes them to harassment, assault, violence, discrimination and persecution?
      b) Even if homosexuality was a choice, homosexuals under no circumstances deserve the treatment they get. They are not hurting anyone, nor are they are destroying the fundamentals of society - there exists no causal link between difference in lifestyle and entitlement of one to victimise a minority group.
    • 3. "My religion (Christianity) believes homosexuality is a sin, and therefore in the name of religion, I'm justified to label homosexuals abominations and act upon it"
      Christianity requires Christians to show tolerance towards people who hold different values. It's not as if going out of your way to terrorise homosexuals is showing the world how tolerant you are, or how great your God is.
      Additionally, religion is your own yardstick. As long as you walk in accordance with "not indulging in sexual immorality", there is no need to regulate the sexual activities of others. Don't even think about starting the Christian debate with me - I'm a Christian fighting for the rights and freedoms to be granted to people that are victims of discrimination, including people of the gay community.
    • 4. "I would rather bash and insult gay men if it means people don't call me a poof"
      This particular argument is often the characteristic of people whose own sexualities are questionable, as well as people who have incredibly low self-worth, pertaining limited or no consequential reasoning. People who would rather brutalise their peers than to risk being physically assaulted deserve to be bashed to oblivion to know what it feels like - then perhaps they won't be so spineless.
    • 5. "I am so arrogant and bigoted that I can't comprehend that homosexuals are just as human than I am"
      The fact that these people believe homosexuals are unnatural oddities, the product of awkward situations ( haven't you ever heard it? "During every awkward silence, a gay baby is born") or just sub-human shows a whole lot of disgusting sectarian thought processes instilled at a young age, of which these need to be re-evaluated and changed immediately.
    • 6. "My self-esteem is so non-existent that I feel compelled to victimise people who are less assimilated in society, in particular racial minorities and homosexuals"
      Well, that speaks for itself, doesn't it? I'm sorry. It's really hard for me to be serious and not sarcastic. Victimising people who you see as lower in the social pecking order as you are actually makes you the lowest of the low.


    All you homophobes out there, if anything, you should be actively encouraging homosexuality. Why?

    • 1. Gay guys get the chicks!
      If a heterosexual man is to compete with a gay man on the grounds of style, sophistication and personality, generally heterosexual men would lose the lottery.
      By stifling and denouncing homosexuality, making it harder for people to come out of the closet, this consequently means that homosexuals are more inclined to live under the facade of a heterosexual individual. And this is what happens: Gay men who haven't yet come out of the closet end up with the hotties, robbing you of chance with women who could have been yours!
    • 2. If all men were gay...
      Think about it. If you were the last man in the world who was straight, you'd have the undivided attention of every single heterosexual woman in the world. MORE GAY MEN = LESS COMPETITION = MORE WOMEN FOR YOU!

    Note my cynical tone evident in the above passage. If the above things are the only benefits you can see as to why you should be civil to homosexuals, you still unfortunately, are a douchebag.

    Homophobia is an illogical and counter-productive frame of mind which sadly is the product of invertebrate peoples with a poor excuse of an education and little self-esteem, not to mention lack of causal reasoning. Everyone should be accepted for who they are - clearly a concept not feasible for people as weak-minded and as intolerant as homophobes.
    Again, rather sarcastically: Encouraging your comrades to be gay with each other increases your own small chances of getting laid. What could be better to a hormonally-explosive neanderthal? Not much else!

    Homophobes, bring it: comment and make my day ;)
  • My Best and Worst of 2009!!!

    31. Dez. 2009, 20:53 von jlegend369

    This took me forever to compile. It took lots of searching through my library, catching up on some late-in-the-year releases, and going back and reminding myself of some of my faves from early in the year…The only rules were that the ALBUM (the Drake mixtape would have charted on my top, but it topped the mixtapes instead) had to be released in 2009 (thus, why an album like Beyonce’s “I Am… Sasha Fierce”, which had tons of hot singles this year, is not included on this list).

    Check out my picks below and PLEASE leave comments, questions, praise, hate, or suggestions for my lists…Thanks in advance!

    My Top 20 Albums of the Year
    20) Rihanna - Rated R
    Never would have thought she would be on my list over Chris Breezy, but once I finally gave in and listened to it, she edged him out...
    19) Melanie Fiona - The Bridge
    Soulful melodies and great production make this the female throwback album of the year...
    18) R. Kelly - Untitled
    Still one of the reigning king of modern R&B
    17) Kelly Clarkson - All I Ever Wanted
    Glad she went back to more of a pop sound on this one
    16) Robin Thicke - Sex Therapy: The Experience
    Most improved artist of 2009..."Something Else" sucked...this album is hot!
    15) Norah Jones - The Fall
    Love every album she makes...
    14) Mariah Carey - Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel
    Back on track with this album after the mediocre "E=MC²"
    13) Toddla T - Skanky Skanky
    Like drinking an energy drink
    12) Mary J. Blige - Stronger withEach Tear
    Surprisingly good...best Mary album of the decade
    11) Mayer Hawthorne - A Strange Arrangement
    Male throwback album of the year
    10) Laura Izibor - Let the Truth Be Told
    VH1 constantly playing an introduction to her this summer is the reason for me checking out this album...I'm glad I did
    9) Tonéx - Unspoken
    The most underrated artist of the decade…immensely talented and his albums consistently expand boundaries
    8) Adam Lambert - For Your Entertainment
    I had very high expectations for this album as a fan of his from when he was on American Idol and he matched them with this great debut
    7) Kid Cudi - Man on the Moon: The End of Day
    Easily the hip-hop album of the year.
    6) Major Lazer - Guns Don't Kill People...Lazers Do
    This ridiculously catchy album is bursting with energy and will have you on your feet dancing in no time!
    5) Alicia Keys - The Element of Freedom
    Every track is beautiful...Alicia is 4 for 4 in terms of her albums in my book!
    4) Ryan Leslie - Ryan Leslie
    The production on this album is brilliant…just like R-Les himself
    3) The-Dream - Love vs. Money
    Another masterpiece from The-Dream. He definitely took a few risks on this one - and they wound up paying off
    2) Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca
    It's hard to peg this album as any one style, but it works! From beginning to end rhythms and chords change, guitar licks come out of the blue, and background voices sing weird harmonies, but it is so amazing the way all of it comes together in this epic album!
    1) Maxwell - BLACKsummers'night
    This album was well worth the eight-year wait. One of the best albums of not only the past year, but also...the whole decade. A MUST-LISTEN for everyone. An INSTANT CLASSIC!

    5 Honorable Mentions (no particular order)
    Chris Brown - Graffiti
    k-os - Yes!
    LMFAO - Party Rock
    Chrisette Michele - Epiphany
    Black Eyed Peas - The E.N.D. (The Energy Never Dies)

    3 Albums I Discovered Through Best of Lists
    (still trying to figure out if/where they would place on my list...I might edit my list later on...so Rihanna and Melanie beware!)
    Passion Pit - Manners
    Florence + the Machine - Lungs
    Fever Ray - Fever Ray

    Songs of the Year
    5) Laura Izibor - Shine
    4) Alicia Keys - Try Sleeping with a Broken Heart
    3) Laura Izibor - From My Heart To Yours
    2) Dirty Projectors - Stillness Is the Move
    1) Maxwell - Pretty Wings

    Mixtapes of the Year
    5) Novel - Suspended Animation
    4) Ne-Yo - Common Sense 101
    3) Mick Boogie & Terry Urban - 2009: The Grammy Remix Tribute
    2) Usher - The King Is Back
    1) Drake - So Far Gone

    Best Live Album of the Year
    Adele - iTunes Live from SoHo

    Top 5 Most Disappointing Albums
    5) 50 Cent - Before I Self Destruct
    4) Ciara - Fantasy Ride
    3) Joss Stone - Colour Me Free!
    2) Queen Latifah - Persona
    1) Kris Allen - Kris Allen

    Top 5 New Artists
    5) Mayer Hawthorne
    4) Laura Izibor
    3) Adam Lambert
    2) Kid Cudi
    1) Major Lazer

    My Most Anticipated Albums of 2010 (no particular order)
    Maxwell - blackSUMMERS'night
    Usher - Raymond vs. Raymond
    Missy Elliot - Block Party
    Erykah Badu - New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh)
    The-Dream - Love King

    Lauryn Hill
    Amy Winehouse
    Justin Timberlake
  • Artists I've Seen Live!!!

    23. Apr. 2009, 2:09 von jlegend369

  • Drake - So Far Gone

    13. Feb. 2009, 18:42 von redspyda

    Well Drake's mixtape finally dropped shortly before 12:30 EST and after nearly 48 of waiting.. I'd say it lived up to the hype and then some. Now the countdown for Thank Me Later begins :D You can download it from my blog as a mirror for OVO.