I cannot bring you anything other than my procrastination. And the bloopy-bleepies of the moment:
Hot Chip – Boy from School
Old news, I know, but I’ve been singing this to my daughter, in her stroller, and it makes her laugh. She has her own lyrics to it now, too, which cracks me up. We’re symbiotic like that.
If you live in Brooklyn and know where I live, or you can be trusted, email me for the address of my ridiculous vinyl and cd sale this Saturday after 10 am. Everything must go.
A Nazi died today. Make a wish.