Bear with us here, I know this is barely an argument worth having. It's like debating the merits of a Gremlin against that of a Pinto, or trying to decide which brother from Good Charlotte has a better chance of getting into MENSA. But my trusty Editor-in-chief and I got into an argument recently over the somewhat new McDonald's chicken snack wrap (chairs were thrown, hips were busted, it got pretty violent), and we decided to hash out the matter in a public forum.
Mid-afternoon on Thanksgiving Monday I was sitting on my couch at my parent's place idly watching telvision. While flipping through the channels, the batteries in the remote suddenly died. The performance of the remote was sporadic already, so I expected it to crap out.
Within the span of two weeks I had the same conversation three times. But before I'll get into the meat and potatoes of this, I'd just like to clarify that I don't often talk about what music would be good to strip to with friends. It just so happens the topic comes up.
Mr. Rudd, I am going to take this slowly. This letter is a long time in the making, and for once I don't want to fuck it all up. So, Paul. There's this song I really love. It starts really slow-like with what I am fairly certain is a piano, or maybe a keytar.
Clueless (1995) In the most attractive casting ever, Paul is Alicia Silverstone's squirrelly college-aged step-brother who plays the hero and the environmentalist reading Nietschze while wearing sunglasses beside the pool. Every girl I know has a crush on Josh.
