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HEY, FUCK YOU, MISTER.
I could understand it if you wanted to “interrupt whatever the fuck” I was thinking about with some important announcement about Dannity Kane’s new cassingle, or maybe if you needed to let the fans know that your new cologne, I Am King, was now being sold in single-serving bottles for touch-ups at the club. But you, sir, do not need to interrupt whatever the fuck I was thinking about to scream in my face for three minutes about a Super Bowl party in St. Petersburg, Florida. Post this shit on the South-Eastern Florida Intranet where it might mean something to someone.
And FY Information, I was thinking about what the world would be like if you could actually use candy as currency. I’d almost come up with a candy-economy based solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, too. But what’s that you say? Girls have Brazilian waxes and men have jobs at your parties? You idiot.
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you’d think a recording artist would be aware of (constant) peaking audio levels.
but at least THIS video wasn’t recorded at a urinal.
Hey, you stole my name
This makes me sad.
AND I THOUGHT I WAS AN ASSHOLE
SQUIDBRAINS
I live in St. Pete, and The Venue on Ulmerton road is a garbage club in a strip mall.
Thanks for warning me. I’ll stay clear like I usually do.
diddy made it a private video