Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Now we sip champagne when we thirs-tay

Word of advice: never beat this guy in four-square

I'm not sure if people born on days other than October 3rd do this, but today all of us famous people born on this great day got together and partied like trapperkeeper stars. Here's who showed up:

1. Black Thought and Talib Kweli came wearing shirts that said "cognizant rappers are morally bankrupt too." India Arie was with them, but left after Gore Vidal kept asking her if she was Erykah Badu.

2. Dave Winfield and Dennis Eckersley reminisced about the old days when Barry Bonds didn't have custom-made helmets. Then they organized a game of four-square with Fred, the Brazilian footballer, and Fred Couples. The Freds conspired to rule the court, which angered the competitor in Eck, who threw many baseballs at the Freds' faces. He apologized afterwards.

3. Tommy Lee showed up with Gwen Stefani on one arm and Ashlee Simpson on the other. He's 44 today.

4. Al Sharpton and Stifler became good friends, mostly because both of them were hitting on Neve Cambell, and bonded over the futility of their pursuit (she was with me [1]).

5. Steve Reich DJd, although his experimental minimalism didn't give Chubby Checker a chance to do the twist, which made Stifler try to beat up Reich. Luckily, the oldest guy there, 82 year old Russian bodybuilder Arkady Vorobyov, was on Reich's side, and he proceeded to throw Stifler onto a roof, where Wil Cordero was beating up his wife.

[1] Denise Richards was with me too, but it wasn't her birthday.

10 comments:

Sordid Puppy said...

aw...it's a birthday party for you, thrown by you, where you're the only guest!

bad slothra! no jameson!

Furman P. Slothra said...

heyyo prairie fire valla's signture satan's piss poofs gives us clintwork..............

Furman P. Slothra said...

kicking gnomes

Furman P. Slothra said...

i hate pants withourt sluts

Furman P. Slothra said...

apples are nazi

Furman P. Slothra said...

numbers are gayss

Furman P. Slothra said...

typing exactitude ramifications = danny glover

Furman P. Slothra said...

Both hands clusty, chillin' wit my man Rusty low down
Blew off the burner kinda dusty
The world can't touch Ghost, purple tape Rae co-host
Monty Hall expo, intellect you red pro
Son triflin fuck, wildflower on the cyclin
Pick up the brew thought I was Michael an'
Mics are writin' pool, now, I'm into Iron Duals
Turn-ons the Earth's whoopee, she out of law school
In hale break beats of hell A-Alikes propel parallel
Duracell night, you flash a burnt cell
Snap out of CandyLand, kids the old rumor is
blacks become immune to shit, we never did like
eati' dead birds chose the pharmacy over herbs
Men marryin men, ill they got the herbs pulsar
Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter
Livin' off land you god damn right I fuck fans king me
Check checkmate props like the micro chip founder
Neck to neck stocks with Bill Gates now

[CHORUS:]
When we hug these mics we get busy
Come and have a good time with G-O-D
Make you snap your fingers or wiggle
Scream, shout, laugh and just giggle
Shake that body, party that body
Don't fuck with Ghost you'll feel sorry
That's word, I'm not the herb
Understand what I'm sayin' [echo]

[VERSE 2:]
Hit mics like Ted Koppel, rifle expert
Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in the grass it's spiteful
Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter
Culprit, prince of the game wish you could see us
We lay low glitter wax full bangles
Priceless rolls, lay around the God get tangled
Woolly hair, eyes firey red, feet made of brass
Twelve men, following me, it be the God staff
Move, every script's like Miramax
Smash the big boy totalled it, will shot fear effects
Son beamin' wifee on the beach, sippin' Zima
Wu 'binos, to latinos, we bust Selena
Over night, God schedules, fed ex
Pretty soloette velvet nice DNA scroll genetics
Too hot, to handle one thought scramblin the mandolin
Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack em, say when
He rollin up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts
Yo kid stop frontin' on the ground before you get touched
It's Canada Dry sess, obsessed with Allah's sun
We want rye, we want it so bad we might cry

-What we do, depends on breath control, so it's the first thing you must
learn. Fortunately it's easy. You'll soon learn.
- My God so they are killers
- Killing and killing, they sort of develop a taste for blood

Furman P. Slothra said...

early yet

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