Jems says:
you know what's the funniest rap lyric ever?
Jems says:
or like right at this moment
Jems says:
to me
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
hmm/
Jems says:
"shake that ass - but watch yourself"
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
lmao
Jems says:
the second part shoots it up into the stratosphere
Jems says:
it's like
Jems says:
"shake that thing.. but... i care"
Jems says:
"i don't want you to hurt yourself by, oh i don't know, shaking it too hard/fast and stumbling into some furniture"
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
lol
Jems says:
"i am so confident in your ability to shake that ass that i am worried you may shake it too hard and hurt those around you"
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
lol
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
HER ASS IS GOING TO EXPLODE
Jems says:
lmao
Jems says:
CAP'N
Jems says:
SHE CAN'T GO ANY ANY FASTER
Jems says:
BUT GOD DAMN
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
lmao
Jems says:
THE BITCH IS TRYIN'
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
lmao!
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
you need to post one of our funnier msn logs
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
on the blog
Jems says:
i am crying
Jems says:
laughter
Jems says:
lmao
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
lol
Jems says:
posting this
Jems says:
i have to
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
lol
<<< Nephirim-San >>> says:
yes!
The "funnier" logs are on their way. We simply have to decide which ones to use.
Note: for the sake of organization, flavour texts from our MSN names were removed, but for the sake of posterity, here they are in their original forms:
Jems - "Last connest' we was won in we 'adda let this kid like strike us inna yarbles wiv this rolled-up paintin' of America."
<<< Nephirim-San >>> Rhyming against me don't make you no suicide martyr
Guess the origin of these obscure references, win respect!
December 31, 2004
December 30, 2004
A sample of what is to come.
In the spirit of giving, and of whimsical song and dance, which is typical of Zibbudie Babbuhl Lane, I am disclosing, our next project, which is another Rap, done by the both of us.
---------
Well look who it is,
all sitting down on the couch!
It's old uncle Ray,
I can tell by the pouch!
He's got remotes,
he's got one of each kind!
Too bad they don't make one
that turns on his mind!
---------
Who pulled the string
on this cliched hip-hop minion?
Who's this underage knockoff
with his store bought opinion?
---------
Am I bein' dissed by the
brontosorous of rhyme?
There's cave art of you
freakin' to morris day and the time!
---------
Watch it little man
because you're on thin ice!
Ain't you the one
who just got sent home with lice?
---------
Listen old man
don't make me come down on you harder!
Rhyming against me
don't make you no suicide martyr.
How did it feel when you
picked out two caskets--
One for each nut that they
plucked from your basket?!
---------
Yes, it is stupid, yes, as Kayla has said before again and again, it is sad, but it's what we do here at Zibbudie Babbuhl, and i'll be damned if I ruin this tradition.
It's not the whole thing, so you know, wait in excitement as we create such a wonderful medley of sound, in rap form.
Have you seen her dressed in blue? seen the sky in front of you?
---------
Well look who it is,
all sitting down on the couch!
It's old uncle Ray,
I can tell by the pouch!
He's got remotes,
he's got one of each kind!
Too bad they don't make one
that turns on his mind!
---------
Who pulled the string
on this cliched hip-hop minion?
Who's this underage knockoff
with his store bought opinion?
---------
Am I bein' dissed by the
brontosorous of rhyme?
There's cave art of you
freakin' to morris day and the time!
---------
Watch it little man
because you're on thin ice!
Ain't you the one
who just got sent home with lice?
---------
Listen old man
don't make me come down on you harder!
Rhyming against me
don't make you no suicide martyr.
How did it feel when you
picked out two caskets--
One for each nut that they
plucked from your basket?!
---------
Yes, it is stupid, yes, as Kayla has said before again and again, it is sad, but it's what we do here at Zibbudie Babbuhl, and i'll be damned if I ruin this tradition.
It's not the whole thing, so you know, wait in excitement as we create such a wonderful medley of sound, in rap form.
Have you seen her dressed in blue? seen the sky in front of you?
Corporate sponsorship gone awry.
I played Half-Life2, yes i'll admit it, everything Jemsy says I did within the game is the complete truth, I was a total ass-hole in the game.
I was loving every second of it.
It was physical comedy on a scale reserved only for Conan O'Brien, combined by my witty dialogue and clever use of sponsorship, the situation was only reinforced in it's comedic value.
Albeit, you would imagine the same motion repeated in succession for 20 minutes would depreciate in value, you are far from correct, my barrel antics with the already thoroughly killed Combine infantry, are those of legend, the stuff that they tell stories of, like a 14 year old teenager, telling his friends he saw a real boobie, it will go down in history.
Now, I would also like to mention, that I did in fact pet Chunky Monkey, I always do, and he loved it, I have a certain repoire with cats and their feline cousins, where I can share my lifes experience with these animals, and they know, they know I will treat them properly.
Also, I did not urinate in Jems' cabinets in any way, the fact that it was the first time I have used Jems' lavatorical installation is the only item of actual amazement.
More recently Jems and myself have been playing Splinter Cell 2 together, it is quite positivly the most enthralling game experience ever, Halo2 does not even come close to the fun factor in which Splinter Cell exudes from it's gaming mantra, the game is just such an original form of entertainment, it makes me giddy, like a little schoolgirl.
I was loving every second of it.
It was physical comedy on a scale reserved only for Conan O'Brien, combined by my witty dialogue and clever use of sponsorship, the situation was only reinforced in it's comedic value.
Albeit, you would imagine the same motion repeated in succession for 20 minutes would depreciate in value, you are far from correct, my barrel antics with the already thoroughly killed Combine infantry, are those of legend, the stuff that they tell stories of, like a 14 year old teenager, telling his friends he saw a real boobie, it will go down in history.
Now, I would also like to mention, that I did in fact pet Chunky Monkey, I always do, and he loved it, I have a certain repoire with cats and their feline cousins, where I can share my lifes experience with these animals, and they know, they know I will treat them properly.
Also, I did not urinate in Jems' cabinets in any way, the fact that it was the first time I have used Jems' lavatorical installation is the only item of actual amazement.
More recently Jems and myself have been playing Splinter Cell 2 together, it is quite positivly the most enthralling game experience ever, Halo2 does not even come close to the fun factor in which Splinter Cell exudes from it's gaming mantra, the game is just such an original form of entertainment, it makes me giddy, like a little schoolgirl.
December 27, 2004
Little Bubble of Madness
It appears as if Kyle didn't regale to anyone the events that went down yesterday, within the little bubble of madness I like to refer to as the J.E.C. He must be sleeping. That dirty, dirty spic.
He waltzes in like he owns the fucking place and touches Chunky Monkey in such a way that makes him emit a horrible, pained sound -- the likes of which I have never before heard and will probably never hear again. As Chunky Monkey is crumpled on the floor, recuperating, Kyle heads downstairs -- but only after he throws a few plates around and pisses in the cupboards above our fridge.
I'm scurrying behind him, pleading, like a tour guide insisting that this foreigner does not toy with this site of ancient burials. He snarls as he settles himself in front of my computer. He momentum causes the wheel-bearing chair to hit the wall to his right, leaving a series of black, hairline cracks.
Half-Life 2 has been paused since his arrival that was marked with fireworks and the shrill screams of women and children that I have never met. He starts where I had left the game to idle. He finds in his way out of a wet ditch and into a small dam complex. He shoots a few people, but insists on shooting each one once more, watching their corpses dance at his command. At this point, biting my lip to ease the burden of suspense, I thought he could push the boundaries of Asshole Physics no further. I was wrong, so very very wrong.
He finds a barrel, and motions, with one stroke of the ENTER key, to have his on-screen avatar pick it up. For the next forty-five minutes he used that barrel to torment the corpse, nay, the very fleeting sorrowful soul, of a Combine soldier. For forty-fifve minutes my mousepad was ablaze with a continuous up-down motion and the resulting thwacks, a masterful blend of the respective impacts of hollow metal and rubberized skull. He laughed maniacally, causing Chunky Monkey, who was watching from the stairs, to recoil in terror.
Soon after came his shining moment, a moment that allowed me to forgive the urine that was now permeating our glassware. He starts a new game, and finds himself in City 17, with only boxes and luggage as ammunition for his weapon that is his abuse of the physics engine. A few examples:
Kyle picks up an empty soda can and walks up to a distraught man sitting at a bench. "Pepsi -- for when you've just got to smack some fools." With a quick left-right-lieft motion of the mouse, he did just that. This alumnium beating was of course accompied by a series of satisfying thoomp sounds, which served as satisfying rewards, pushing Kyle to perform even more cruel and unsual acts using discarded tchotchkes.
Two men stands by a gate, watching two Combine soldiers guard an apartment complex. Kyle approaches them. They offer their thoughts on the whole ordeal, the depressing state of the world they live in that is governed by the machine-men with vague motives. They are soft spoken despite their deep voices. Kyle picks up a bucket. He breaks the somber mood by informing the men (i.e talking to the computer screen) that he has a bucket for them. A bucket for their tears. He speaks for them. We don't have any, they might have said, puzzled. They will, he insists, before literally bringing the fight to their doorstep with one smooth, calculated, albeit violent smacking motion. Three impacts. Two faces and the gate. Thoonk-thoonk-thoonk. Success!
I had to pull him away before he went looking for a barrel.
Kyle will no doubt tell the internet as a whole the remainder of this story, but I will still stick in here a few phrases to serve not only as reminders, but as tastes of what is to come.
-"Mister, you scare me so bad, I have baby!"
-Reading Rainbow
-"Where did Miles Davis learn music?"
-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYUM!
-*locks go down* "You a doctor."
He waltzes in like he owns the fucking place and touches Chunky Monkey in such a way that makes him emit a horrible, pained sound -- the likes of which I have never before heard and will probably never hear again. As Chunky Monkey is crumpled on the floor, recuperating, Kyle heads downstairs -- but only after he throws a few plates around and pisses in the cupboards above our fridge.
I'm scurrying behind him, pleading, like a tour guide insisting that this foreigner does not toy with this site of ancient burials. He snarls as he settles himself in front of my computer. He momentum causes the wheel-bearing chair to hit the wall to his right, leaving a series of black, hairline cracks.
Half-Life 2 has been paused since his arrival that was marked with fireworks and the shrill screams of women and children that I have never met. He starts where I had left the game to idle. He finds in his way out of a wet ditch and into a small dam complex. He shoots a few people, but insists on shooting each one once more, watching their corpses dance at his command. At this point, biting my lip to ease the burden of suspense, I thought he could push the boundaries of Asshole Physics no further. I was wrong, so very very wrong.
He finds a barrel, and motions, with one stroke of the ENTER key, to have his on-screen avatar pick it up. For the next forty-five minutes he used that barrel to torment the corpse, nay, the very fleeting sorrowful soul, of a Combine soldier. For forty-fifve minutes my mousepad was ablaze with a continuous up-down motion and the resulting thwacks, a masterful blend of the respective impacts of hollow metal and rubberized skull. He laughed maniacally, causing Chunky Monkey, who was watching from the stairs, to recoil in terror.
Soon after came his shining moment, a moment that allowed me to forgive the urine that was now permeating our glassware. He starts a new game, and finds himself in City 17, with only boxes and luggage as ammunition for his weapon that is his abuse of the physics engine. A few examples:
Kyle picks up an empty soda can and walks up to a distraught man sitting at a bench. "Pepsi -- for when you've just got to smack some fools." With a quick left-right-lieft motion of the mouse, he did just that. This alumnium beating was of course accompied by a series of satisfying thoomp sounds, which served as satisfying rewards, pushing Kyle to perform even more cruel and unsual acts using discarded tchotchkes.
Two men stands by a gate, watching two Combine soldiers guard an apartment complex. Kyle approaches them. They offer their thoughts on the whole ordeal, the depressing state of the world they live in that is governed by the machine-men with vague motives. They are soft spoken despite their deep voices. Kyle picks up a bucket. He breaks the somber mood by informing the men (i.e talking to the computer screen) that he has a bucket for them. A bucket for their tears. He speaks for them. We don't have any, they might have said, puzzled. They will, he insists, before literally bringing the fight to their doorstep with one smooth, calculated, albeit violent smacking motion. Three impacts. Two faces and the gate. Thoonk-thoonk-thoonk. Success!
I had to pull him away before he went looking for a barrel.
Kyle will no doubt tell the internet as a whole the remainder of this story, but I will still stick in here a few phrases to serve not only as reminders, but as tastes of what is to come.
-"Mister, you scare me so bad, I have baby!"
-Reading Rainbow
-"Where did Miles Davis learn music?"
-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYUM!
-*locks go down* "You a doctor."
December 25, 2004
Well it's Christmas
Aye, it's Christmas now, people were/are eating unmade chocolate truffles, and the constant discussion of Sci-Fi ships is still a grim reminder of Starfleet's superiority.
May you all have a wonderful Christmas.
Salvation a la mode, and a cup of tea
May you all have a wonderful Christmas.
Salvation a la mode, and a cup of tea
December 23, 2004
Merry Christmas from Zibbudie Babbuhl Lane
Aye, i'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas from myself and Jemsy. may your holiday be as stupid as ours.
And not to discriminate;
Happy Hannukah
Crazy Kwanza
Good Dun Che Lao Ren
Have a noisy Le Tru Tich
Don't Be Afraid
And not to discriminate;
Happy Hannukah
Crazy Kwanza
Good Dun Che Lao Ren
Have a noisy Le Tru Tich
Don't Be Afraid
December 22, 2004
The First Zibbudie Babbuhl Song
The first Zibbudie Babbuhl song has been released, with hopefully many more to come, there will be guests, duets and so on, in fact, I think we have dean martin scheduled in 2 weeks.
Zibbudie Babbuhl Rap
Enjoy.
Luck be a lady tonight
Zibbudie Babbuhl Rap
Enjoy.
Luck be a lady tonight
December 21, 2004
Babbuhl
Ladies and Gentlemen
Mc's and Sucker amateurs alike!
THE NOTORIOUS L.I.N.C.O.L.N!
What's up motherfucks?!
I got a permit to rhyme
it's filed with the city
you should see it sometime!
(LEGIT!)
When I raise the roof
my paperwork's in order
I always tell the country
before I mix my mortar
(THE DUDE OWNS PROPERTY!)
The jolly green giant
has a stable full of hos
except instead of ladies
he pimps out potatoes
(HE CREATES RHYMES FOR THE KIDS!)
Some guys like california
some guys dig baltimore
i've been with chick in both locales
they all say I snore
(HE GETS WITH THE LADIES, BUT IN THE END THEY DO NOT LIKE HIM!)
And with that I christen this new entity, the USS.Crazyshitbehappenin
Mc's and Sucker amateurs alike!
THE NOTORIOUS L.I.N.C.O.L.N!
What's up motherfucks?!
I got a permit to rhyme
it's filed with the city
you should see it sometime!
(LEGIT!)
When I raise the roof
my paperwork's in order
I always tell the country
before I mix my mortar
(THE DUDE OWNS PROPERTY!)
The jolly green giant
has a stable full of hos
except instead of ladies
he pimps out potatoes
(HE CREATES RHYMES FOR THE KIDS!)
Some guys like california
some guys dig baltimore
i've been with chick in both locales
they all say I snore
(HE GETS WITH THE LADIES, BUT IN THE END THEY DO NOT LIKE HIM!)
And with that I christen this new entity, the USS.Crazyshitbehappenin
Zibbudie.
I hereby usher in the dawn of a new era. An era in which children speak like Jawas and cats have their own sitcoms. An era in which "zibbudie babbuhl" actually means something. An era in which we shine.
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