Push Play Please

You didn't understand the extent of what I meant when I said I was going to flood imaginary internet skies with blog thoughts. I'm not really afraid to admit I'm addicted to blogspot. So many things I should be sitting in a semi-circle for..."Hi my names Ashley I have a problem with blogging." "Push Play Please" is a music blog and the link is here and on my sidebar.

Diamond Necklaces that say...BALLA

The other night I checked my voicemail and there was a message from a man named Bill stating that recently I had entered a contest to win a 2007 Lincoln Navigator and that he was looking at MY entry form.

Now I’m no fool. (That statement is not up for debate). But I was raised by a mother who believed anyone and everyone was the next Ted Bundy. Naturally, my first thoughts were this has got to be some kind of scam or this guy wants to feed me to his dogs. If there’s one thing I know in this world it’s never trust a man named Bill. But see, this other part of me, the part that still believes Ground hogs are how we predict the seasons, thought “Dude I just won a Lincoln Navigator!” Maybe some of you have heard but my high school sweetheart “The Dodger” (name accredited to Stephanie Copie) is on life support so if this contest is indeed real it would be a very merry Christmas for me!

So I call Bill. Turns out I’m a finalist. Didn’t realize I was competing but now I’m feeling quite competitive. I will find out at the end of the month if I’m a fool or if I’m a Balla. So folks….stay tuned.



Can’t wait for that to be me smiling with my shiny platinum grill in front of my new getaway car.

My Christmas Wishlist: For A Little Understanding Here

My parental unit was wondering what I was asking Santa for this year. So I concocted a wishlist for them. Like I said before I’m a girl of humble needs. I don’t ask for much in this bankrupt world. Just cloths on my back, food and shelter, maybe a nice platinum grill for my top teeth, some foie gras and an artisan cheese basket, a little sashimi and those nice warm little hand towels. I listed some things off for my mom then the conversation ended like this:

Me: “What I really want is just some comic books. It’s what I spend most of my money on.”

Mom: “Comic Books?”

Me: “Yeah like anything DC, Batman, Frank Miller, Alan Moore”

Mom: “We’re not getting you comic books. That’s….geeky.”

Silence.

In defense of all the four- eyed, acne plagued losers in basements across America, comic books are cool. These kids are not just a bunch of virgins salivating over some half naked sketch called Catwoman. They’re not! (hesitate) And even if they are, they’ll soon be the guys who write or sketch the next great Joker story and in turn get paid lots of money when it gets made into a movie.

In my defense, underneath the violence of comic book stories is a sort of prevailing morality. The superhero world is a world of absolute values. What was good was never doubted and what was evil suffered a fitting punishment. It’s our modern bible. A glimpse of a world of absolute justice, where morality worked the way it was meant to. I’m sorry that I want to live in a world of superheroes, instead of this day in age when the cowards hide in the shadows.