Monday, April 16, 2007

What Kind of Fuckery is This?

Oh, what a disgustingly foul excuse for a spring day. On the walk to work this morning, the Object pointed out a droopy yellow tulip that had succumbed to the freezing weather and the north winds. "If you spray-painted that black, that's how I feel about this weather." When he gets so melodramatic, I like to call him out on it, but seeing as the sky staunchly remains the same flat, steely, lifeless landscape it has been for days on end, I can't really argue. Kitty spent the night wide-eyed and awake, meowling at the gale force winds, ready to hiss at the Wicked Witch of the West when she landed on our house. It's ugly out there.

Oh, and there's no water on our block; all employees are asked to refrain from using the restrooms.

And yet, is here to brighten up our day with a little hilarity: "And interestingly enough, one can often hear aspects of each of [Lauryn Hill and Sarah Vaugh's] vocal repertoire in Winehouse's voice despite her strong cockney accent and vernacular."

Her whozawhatnow? Why, I do believe allmusic has been taking Cockney Accent Recognition lessons from Corky St. Clair. "'Ow are 'ou?" Hmmmm, maybe the Nor'easter has them all addlebrained, too. As long as we're railing, how dare they write a musical biography citing her influences without even mentioning Dusty Springfield? At the end of the day, isn't Amy Winehouse pretty much Dusty Version 2.6? And drunker?

Look, if you want dirty words in a cockney accent, you need look no further than the inimitable Jack Black.


Blogger Ness said...

So i have broadband at home now. And, as requested, have put pikkies of the house on the interweb.

4:32 AM  

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