Paperweight by Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk

I fell in love with this song about a week ago and wanted to share it. I was going to post the mp3, but I don't know what the rules are about that, so the video will have to suffice for now.

That being said, I want to hang out with Zach Braff. That kid's got the best taste in music.



Paperweight -- Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk

Been up all night staring at you
Wondering what's on your mind
I've been this way with so many before
But this feels like the first time
You want the sunrise to go back to bed
I want to make you laugh
Mess up my bed with me
Kick off the covers I'm waiting
Every word you say I think
I should write down
Don't want to forget come daylight
Happy to lay here
Just happy to be here
I'm happy to know you
Play me a song
Your newest one
Please leave your taste on my tongue
Paperweight on my back
Cover me like a blanket
Mess up my bed with me
Kick off the covers i'm waiting
Every word you say I think
I should write down
Don't want to forget come daylight
And no need to worry
that's wastin time
And no need to wonder
What's been on my mind
It's you
It's you
It's you
Every word you say I think
I should write down
Don't want to forget come daylight
And I give up
I let you win
You win cause I'm not counting
You made it back
To sleep again
Wonder what you're dreaming

Damn, It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta by The Geto Boys

Gangsta. The word immediately conjures images of AKs, low-riding Impalas cruising slowly and Ice Cube’s Jheri-curled visage snarling menacingly. However, on their 1992 album, Uncut Dope, the Geto Boys released Damn, It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta and helped clarify the definition of gangsta as seen through the eyes of hip hop insiders.

A mid tempo drum and piano instrumental opens the track and is soon followed by a placid vocal that declare, “Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.” The lyrics then go on to define what a gangsta is, including one surprising declaration of nonviolence – “A real gangsta-ass nigga never runs his fuckin’ mouth ‘cause real gangsta-ass niggas don’t start fights.” This lyric shatters the ideal that gangstas are all criminally-minded and intent on acts of violence. The song also espouses a philosophy of self-confidence by stating that, “Real gangsta-ass niggas don’t flex nuts ‘cause real gangsta-ass niggas know they got ‘em.” The song uses this lyric to admonish others about the folly of excess bravado and how a real man, or gangsta, in this case, doesn’t need brazen shows of machismo to prove his worth.

The second verse is one C. Delores Tucker may even have approved of. Maybe. The verse advocates a sense of community, charity, racial tolerance and spirituality. The verse starts off with the words, “Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta. Feeding the poor and helping out with their bills. Although, I was born in Jamaica, now I’m in the U.S. making deals.” The first stanza exhibits a parallel to Robin Hood in that while both figures [the gangsta and Robin Hood] are seen as troublemakers in the eyes of the law, the community sees them as local heroes of almost mythic proportions. The second stanza can be linked to the lore of the Italian American gangster – the foundation of the hip hop gangsta. Just as Don Corleone came to America to make his fortune in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather, Bushwick Bill came to New York in search of the American Dream and based on the song, it seems as if he found it. The final few stanzas are arguably the most interesting with Bushwick Bill rhyming, “Now gangsta-ass niggas come in all shapes and colors, some got killed in the past. But this gangsta here was a smart one, started living for the Lord and I’ll last.” Not only does Bill advocate racial tolerance, but he also rhymes about living a righteous life and connecting with a higher power – topics that are usually overlooked in gangsta rap.

The third verse of the song, featuring rhymes about gunplay and sexuality, fit more into the traditional stereotype of the gangsta image, but these lyrics seems to be a cheeky precursor to the final verse. The low, languid melodic instrumentals give way to a rapper impersonating former president, George Bush, Sr. He is introduced with, “And now, a word from the President,” as if addressing the nation officially in the rhyme. At this point, the song takes a highly political and controversial stance as “President Bush” announces just how good it feels to be a gangsta. He immediately reveals a duplicitous nature by stating, “Everything lookin’ good to the people of the world, but the Mafia family is my boss.” He continues this shocking statement by referencing the controversial war on drugs – “So every now and then, I owe a favor gettin' down like lettin' a big drug shipment through. And send 'em to the poor community, so we can bust you know who.”

Obviously, “you know who” refers to the lower rungs of the socioeconomic ladder and the minority groups targeted by the stringent drug laws and affected the most severely from the introduction of crack cocaine and heroin into urban areas. If the gangsta is an authority figure, the President is the ultimate gangsta. He threatens the audience that if other leaders upset him, he’ll “send a million troops to die at war.” Strangely prophetic words for the world we live in. He ends the rhyme and the song with a jab to the critics of hip hop by stating, “To all you Republicans, that helped me win, I sincerely like to thank you, ‘Cause now I got the world swingin' from my nuts and damn it feels good to be a gangsta.” Since most individuals who looked at hip hop from an outsider’s perspective and therefore, condemned the artform, championed a fairly conservative attitude – the lyrics are a jab at the fact that even though these dissenters are against gangsta rap, they’ve elected the biggest gangsta there is to run the nation. It’s an acerbic touch of humor which not only jams a thumb straight in the eye of conservative America, but ends the song on a memorable note.

Damn, It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta is unique in that it presents numerous aspects and definitions of the term ‘gangsta’. A gangsta is more than a gun-toting thug. A gangsta can be something as simple as a person with self-confidence. A gangsta can also be someone who struggles to capture his own piece of the American Dream and a gangsta can also be an absolutely corrupt politician. Just like with hip hop, there is no concrete definition, but rather a large, intangible entity whose meaning differs with each individual experience.

Welcome to Lushville. Population: Us

Remember the scene in Pulp Fiction where Vincent jams a needle full of pure adrenaline into Mia's heart?

Going bridal shopping is kind of like that...except in this case, the needle is a bunch of gorgeous dresses and instead of adrenaline, the needle's quivering with estrogen.



This dress reminded me of that grey Versace number Carrie Bradshaw wore in the sixth season of Sex and the City. Gorgeous in theory, but if I were to try it on, it would probably engulf me.



Part of my bridesmaid duties -- wear pretty dress, provide embarrassing pictures and stories about the bride and groom and get lushed. I'm think I'm well-qualified for the position.

After bridal shopping, we headed over to Jake and Steph's to play Trivial Pursuit: 80s Edition.



Here's a helpful hint -- just because you grew up in the 80s, it doesn't mean you will dominate the game.



Having an encyclopedic knowledge of Simpsons episodes? That's a different story. I actually answered a question about Canadian politics because of information I learned on The Simpsons. Ha -- and they call it the idiot box.



Dana celebrated our good fortune [read: my nerdish leanings] by inhaling a bottle of Raspberry Sparkletini -- the best alcoholic beverage one can purchase for under $5 [excluding Boulaine's Amaretto, of course]



Dana: I will punch you in the dick if you guys don't get this.
Jerry: Dude, you better know the answer to this question....

Thankfully, the boys avoided a crotch-punching, but Jake still kept close guard and managed to salute us. Granted, it was a one-finger salute, but we'll take it anyway.



Things are looking grim for the boys' team. See, this is why you never go up against me in any sort of pop culture tournament. You will go down and you will go down hard.



Finally, Jake admits defeat. Ha ha ha. In yo' eye, sucka!



Watch this.

Now, imagine Jerry doing the same thing with Callie.



HI-larity.

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Now, aren't you glad you waste your time reading my nonsense? Every now and then, something worthwhile pops up.

Sun is warm; grass is green; Jaime is happy

Today has been amazing for the following reasons:

• My organized crime professor took half-an-hour in class today to discuss the topic I'm writing an article about. How cool is that? Tons of great information at my fingertips.
  
  
• I saw turtles! In the pond near the Union, there were three of them, just swimming away. One big, one medium and one small. I must have spent ten minutes just watching them. They were so cute and now, I want a turtle. I'll name him Raphael...or Donatello. It depends on his personality.
  
  
• The Best Friend and I were walking to Chik-Fil-A and we noticed these two women handing out cookies. Since we're suckers for a good cookie, we stopped to find out what was going out. It turns out they're part of a community service organization called 'Ask Mom'. They're local area moms who just show up on campus with cookies, advice and hugs. It was so sweet and best of all? I networked my way into a potential feature story. I'm a hustla', baby. Just want you to know ;)
  
  
• I found Everclear's Greatest Hits [Thanks, Dirt-Tay!] in the car and rocked out the whole way home. Sunshine, all green lights and my favorite band. Perfection.
  
  
• Ramone sent me the sweetest little message which started with, "after reading your page and some of your old blogs, I'm impressed and somewhat jealous of your writing style!" How nice is that? I'm always a little surprised when people say they like my writer. I just see myself as this kid who picks up a pen and scrawls nonsense.
  
  
• Dana and Jess are both gonna be in town this weekend. Knock, knock! Who's there? BOOZE! Tinfoil will be in full effect at Lush Manor this weekend!
  
  
• And finally -- does anyone out there have an mp3 of Justin Timberlake performing Let's Stay Together with the Rev. Al Green? You can't deny the boy's talent if the Reverend himself wants to perform with him. Sidenote -- I'm not the slightest bit religious, but if I could have the Reverend Al Green marry me -- I'd jump on that opportunity. How cool would that be?

Reason #4687645213697 being a writer rocks:

Working in your underwear 'cause it's laundry day.

The food is so good in this century!

FRIDAY

There might be cake! Dana, being the kick-ass baker that she is, decided that it was high time she baked a cake. Who are we to refuse baked goods...especially Funfetti-flavored baked goods with vanilla frosting and sprinkles.



I'm not sure the baking excited her or the fact that we were talking about the David Beckham 'Got Milk' ad...?



There is no greater pleasure, no sin more exquisite than frosting...



Paul lurked around the kitchen for a good five minutes hoping to get a taste of the batter. Needless to say, it made him happy.



Anthony Bourdain doesn't cook sober and neither do we.



Cake and beer. It's a winning combination. Like peanut butter and jelly, Lucy and Ethel or vodka and even more vodka.



Another winning combination, especially at Casa de Drunkenness.



Cue the angelic chorus! Cake! There might be cake! And there is!



"Frosting, you have scorned me for the last time...."



Hmmm. Ethnic? Check. Barefoot? Check. Kitchen? Check. Yep -- everything seems to be in order here...



And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what the finished product looked like.



Paul couldn't wait to launch into it and came strapped with dual knife-wielding capabilities.



And because everything we say is some sort of thinly veiled sexual reference, our conversation while making the cake ended up on my wall.

After our culinary adventure, we ended up at Steak 'N Shake for glorious Halloween milkshakes -- caramel apple, s'mores and some sort of diabolical chocolate fudge/chocolate chip concoction.



I picked the caramel apple shake and my God, it was the greatest decision I've made in my life. It actually tasted just like a caramel apple.



French fries made Steph happy. S'Mores-flavored milkshake made her even happier.



If Jake went five minutes without making some sort of smart-ass comment, I think I'd die of shock.



I suggested that The Best Friend give me a taste of his s'mores shake. He responded by snarling like a rabid badger. Lesson of the day: Don't touch The Best Friend's milkshake.



Dana's banana split shake was glorious in a way that only banana-flavored products are.



You try sucking straight caramel through a straw without your face looking like this.



In addition to cake, beer and glorious milkshakes, the best part of the night was seeing my niece, Phoebedog! She makes happy noises everytime she comes over to the apartment. For her, Casa de Drunkeness is Casa de Bellyrubs.

SATURDAY

A conversation between Dana and I:

Jaime: Dude, I woke up like, an hour ago.
Dana: Me too.
Jaime: What the hell was in those milkshakes?
Jaime and Dana simultaneously: Roofies...



After a late wake-up call, The Best Friend, Dana and I grabbed lunch at the Pita Pit -- home of delicious hummus and pitas the size of your head.



See -- I'm not joking. Those things are huge...and so good. Dana and I bonded over the tzatziki sauce and decided that we both want to be buried in it so we can eat our way out.



After lunch, we went to Lake Eola to hang out at the Wine Room with Kelly. It's swanky and features my new favorite wine -- the St. Supery Moscato.



The selection is jaw-dropping and they even have a room dedicated to rare vintages which probably cost more than my life.



Now, I may not be the biggest enophile, but I have to agree with this quote. Good food, good music and good drinks always bring people closer together.



I really liked the ambience of the place. It was romantic, so the next time the boyfriend's in town, I'll be sure to plan a date here.



Keeping with the whole romance theme, the sunset was gorgeous ["Baby, you're gonna miss your plane." "I know."]



For dinner, we hit up Whole Foods and I got the world's most delicious Greek salad. I want to find the man who first invented this culinary delight and french kiss him....although, after eating all that feta cheese, I don't think it would be a particularly pleasurable sensation.



Dana got emotional over the baklava. If manna from the Gods truly exists, it would have to be this dessert. The honey just swims in your mouth and it is amazing.



In addition to killer Greek delicacies, awesome vegan chocolate chip cookies and mini shopping carts for little kids, Whole Foods also has a pretty decent beer selection. I love the fact that they carry Orange Blossom Pilsner. It's a local microbrew and damn tasty from what I hear.

SATURDAY NIGHT -- The Best Friend, Dana, Kelly and I congregated at our local sex megastore, Fairvilla to bond over raunchy videos, Halloween costumes and vibrators. Since Fairvilla has a no photography policy, I couldn't take any pictures, but highlights from the night include: a very helpful sales associate named Michel who is, hands-down, the world's leading authority on sex toys, a video series named Big Sausage Pizza which was almost enough to make me stop eating pizza all together [almost], another nip tweak from Kelly and trying on a costume which caused the security guard to remark, "You look like a little schoolgirl....you want some candy?" Good times as always.



All in all, a great weekend. The original plan was to spend it moping while watching The Notebook and the Thanksgiving episode of Party of Five from Season 1, but I have great friends who refused to let that happen.

When you've got friends like mine, delicious food and great music [Soundtrack for the weekend: Still Not A Player by Big Pun, I Get Around by Tupac Shakur and the ubiquitous Juicy by the Notorious B.I.G.] -- life is good.

I live in notes and photographs

The opening scene of Love Actually is pretty perfect. Shot at Heathrow Airport, it's a montage of people at the arrivals gate. There's something amazing about the way people light up when they see a face they recognize...and last Thursday, I got to be one of these incredibly lucky people.

Dan flew in and the second I saw him, I just lit up. It was like something out of the movies.

Thursday morning started off like this. It looked like something out of Tolkien...or Houses of the Holy.



Dan majored in film and I minored it, so movies were definitely a huge part of the agenda. This being the case, I made him a gift basket -- popcorn, soda, Junior Mints, Sour Patch Kids, Hershey Kisses with Caramel [♥ So good!] and a Guinness t-shirt to celebrate his Irish heritage and my rampant alcoholism [kidding].



We drove up to Gainesville on Saturday to spend some quality time with my sister. As you can tell from the picture, I highly recommend the spinach alfredo farfalle.



Like all ballers and/or shot-callers, my sister rocks the platinum.

While there, I fell in love with this gorgeous car. I love the classics. Most of the cars made in the 50s and 60s remind me of rocket ships, which makes a lot of sense considering the national interest in space exploration.

After lunch, we headed to the Florida Museum of Natural History where we encountered this massive mastodon. The sheer size of this thing blows my mind. I mean, the tusks could function as a water slide.



We also encountered the world's most terrifying sea creature. This thing's scarier than that singing bass...and that sucker belts out Don't Worry, Be Happy.



I love turtles. Whether they're scarfing down pizza and practicing martial arts or advocating literacy, they are awesome little creatures. There's actually a huge one that lives in our neighborhood. I named him Sampson and I help him cross the street every now and then.



We also hung out at the Harn Museum of Art, Now, techinically -- you're not supposed to take pictures inside the gallery, but if they can't see the flash, they can't catch you. The abnormally loud whirring noise my camera emits, though....



The courtyard at the Harn was gorgeous and incredibly serene. So of course, I classed it up even further by grabbing Pan the Satyr's butt.



My favorite part of the courtyard was the little pond complete with tadpoles and waterlilies. Monet comes alive. It's like Frampton Comes Alive...only not at all.



On the way home, the sky opened up and it started to rain. We're talking water of Biblical proportions here. At one point, I was actually driving 15 mph on the 408. In a town where the speed limit is seen as nothing more than a polite suggestion, this was pretty much unheard of.



Sunday night, I put my culinary skills to work and made dinner for the boys -- eggplant parmesan and Caesar salad. I curse like a sailor, I can't parallel park, I touch statues in inappropriate areas and I listen to Hootie and the Blowfish without the faintest trace of irony....but I can cook and that's gotta count for something.



Pepe really liked the eggplant and thanked me by kicking my [already damaged] ankle and leaving a massive bruise. Oh Pepe -- you're going to make some unlucky woman very bitter one day.

All in all -- it was an amazing week. I miss him like crazy, though. Little things - the way he recites lines from Ghostbusters, his 'Gatsby' smile ["...and then, his face broke into that radiant and understanding smile, as if we'd been in ecstatic cahoots on that fact all the time." The Great Gatbsy. F. Scott Fitzgerald], the way he'd kiss my shoulder when he thought I was sleeping and his Slimer impersonation which, no matter the circumstance, can always make laugh hysterically.

I can't wait until we see each other again.