Friday, June 26, 2009

"Boo Hoo" Duffy, ya freaking weird-o!

     So me and this chick Duffy have been dating a while now. Well not so much dating. It's more of a 'meet you in the ally behind The Acadami and try and steal drunk student's money and valuables.' We've got this good system where she walks out to the sidewalk and does a couple of turns and all the bloaks are like, "Holy hell it's that chick who sings stuff!" Then I give them all a love tap with my lead pipe, Chloe and we're sound as a pound! Last time we made a little error in judgment though.  We pulled our little operation on a few undercover beat cops and they did not go down so easily. After what can I guess be called a scuffle I managed to chesse it but I kinda, sorta let my lady-friend take the fall. It's not my fault she can't run in heels. (Boom!) She can get by just fine on 8-inchers when she's prancing around on stage but Ohhhh no as soon as it matters she goes and chicks out on me. She hasn't dialed me since. 

     Not that I'd want her to call me though. She's a great singer and she's packing wicked stems but when she speaks the sound is not pretty. She won't like me telling you this but I'm just going take the plunge and say it. She curses. A lot. I mean a freaking lot! Not a big deal, you're thinking? Well she does it all the time and it's usually very rank. In front of kids, seniors, at church, all the time! I mean my god. She once slammed the chips right out of this old woman's hands, spit in her mouth and told her, "If you think you can strut my beat and not be in it bloody barney than you're just a daft old slapper!" She said this just for fun! She laughed about it later that day! This girl is a monster. I still don't understand what the fuck she was talking about. The Welsh are so weird.

     So when it comes to the review portion of this blog and I'm just going to sock it to all her material and not just one particular song. During our time together I've been pitching her song ideas and lyrics and poems and all manner of awesome stuff. Solid Gold, yo. Alas, my pall Duffy is having none of it. Not my song about rainbows. Not my love ballad about Mustang convertibles. Not my thirteen minute folk/metal opus about the water table under my Grandpa's old house in the country. I don't get this chica. All her tunes are about subway stations and abstract feelings of love and mercy and sorrow. Those aren't tangible things! You can't write songs about feelings, it doesn't make any sense! Where's the marketing possibilities in something as random and clumsy as love?! Nowhere. You can't make an action figure about 'your sobby little breakup at Warwick Ave.' It's just stupid, Duffy. Now if you used my idea about the robot having sexual relations with a 1970's muscle car then we're getting into saturday morning cartoon territory! REAL artists like the Jonas Brothers would jump all over that tasty plum. 

     In conclusion Duffy, when you finally seduce your way to the Welsh equivalent of a 'get out of jail free card' and are ready to see my powerpoint presentation about your new line of DUFFY FORCE ALPHA SQUAD lunch boxes then give me a jingle. Until then you're going to have to find someone else to mug drunkies with. 


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