August 12, 2010
A funny thing happened to me last night around three. As I'm wont to do in the summertime, I was up far too late--one could blame the lack of responsibility/a less than bustling social calender for this, but I like to think that my penchant for nocturnal activity just adds to my abundantly quirky charm--which was, of course, impairing my thinking a degree or two.

As I'm also wont to do during my nighttime perusals, I was aimlessly surfing Facebook as if expecting everyone else to be awake and posting things for my entertainment. Just as I was about to throw in the towel and crawl into bed, I noticed that my friend had posted a video of a rock cover of Lady GaGa's "Bad Romance". Combining my late night curiosity with my ardent love for GaGa, I listened to a few seconds of it. If you're curious about what this matrimony of musical stylings would produce, you can watch the video.

While I thought the instrumentals were really cool, I was deeply underwhelmed by the singer's inability to match GaGa's vocal caliber of mind melting excellence/intense weirdness strong enough to melt all the babies in a small village in the middle of Somalia. I let my friend know of my disappointment forthwith:

Deliriously Tired Genevieve: "Eh. That girl doesn't have nearly the vocals that GaGa cranks out, but an interesting cover anyway."

This is where things got interesting. My friend, who was mysteriously much more lucid at this point in the morning than myself, responded:

Mysteriously Alert Friend: "Something about the deepness of Gaga's voice during the verses makes me saaad. I do love the chorus for the original Bad Romance though. I'm more about the melody than the crunk."

Let me preface the audacity of my next comment by saying that I understand exactly what she meant by "the crunk". I was totally with it at this point.

HOWEVER--

the first thing that came to mind when I read "the crunk" was a terrifyingly sharp polygon walking down the street whilst punching people in the face. It looked a little something like this:

See? Doesn't that thing exude the essence of what a crunk really is? Don't you think that thing rolls into all the clubs when everyone starts to actually get crunk? At that point, everyone is so inebriated that I'm sure it doesn't even come as a shock when a gigantic red pointy destruction machine gets up in their grills and starts knocking the drunk daylights out of them!

So, really, that's the end of the story--

unless you count the part where I found $5.

posted by Gwennifer at 1:37 PM | 1 comments