Here's your chance to help me in imagining how it probably sounds when Beck and his pops have their weekly chats, with the inclusion of at least one (1) Beck chorus phrase thrown in for good measure. Come on, it'll be fun.
(this thread will die a horrible horrible death)
― Millar (Millar), Thursday, 13 March 2003 02:11 (twenty-three years ago)
― michael wells (michael w.), Thursday, 13 March 2003 02:22 (twenty-three years ago)
― Curt1s St3ph3ns, Thursday, 13 March 2003 02:35 (twenty-three years ago)
Two turntables and a microphone, son. That's where it's at.
― Millar (Millar), Thursday, 13 March 2003 02:37 (twenty-three years ago)
― t\'\'t (t\'\'t), Thursday, 13 March 2003 02:59 (twenty-three years ago)
Dave: "Soy imperdidor...I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me."
Beck: "Dad, you're so silly." *wink wink*
― nickalicious (nickalicious), Thursday, 13 March 2003 13:46 (twenty-three years ago)
Dave: "Not well. Everybody got out of control and started yelling and everything went nuts, and I feel totally responsible for it..."
Beck: "I don't know, you're not a trouble maker or nothing, I'm sure you had nothing to do with it."
Dave: "No, boy, I can tell you for sure, it's nobody's fault but my own."
Beck: "Well, what about Nicole Kidman? She's kinda a loose cannon."
Dave: "Yeah. She's alone in the new pollution."
― nickalicious (nickalicious), Thursday, 13 March 2003 13:49 (twenty-three years ago)
Dad: The silver foxes looking for romance in the chain-smoke Kansas flashdance ass pants.
― Nick A. (Nick A.), Thursday, 13 March 2003 14:37 (twenty-three years ago)
― nickalicious (nickalicious), Thursday, 13 March 2003 14:44 (twenty-three years ago)