Podcasts about Eww

Bible Reading: Psalm 51:6-10; Luke 11:37-41"Mom, can we go home now? I'm sooo bored!" Stella slumped against the seat of the car. "Stella, we're almost done--kids, look! A whole block sale!" Mom pulled the car over to the side of the road. Hayden excitedly pressed his nose against the window. "I love yard sailing!" The family got out of the car. Hayden ran straight to a model airplane. Stella stuck close to her mom as they looked at different mugs. Mom picked up one with a lid just as Hayden came running back. He and Stella both saw it at the same time, and the siblings gasped in unison. "That is the prettiest mug I've ever seen!" Stella exclaimed. "Mom, you have to get it!" Hayden said. "All right, fine." Mom laughed and brought the mug to the cashier. When the family arrived home, Stella asked, "Mom, can I please have the mug?" Mom smiled. "No, but if you clean it, you can be the first to drink out of it!" Stella's eyes sparkled. "Deal!" She ran excitedly to the sink. She opened the lid of the mug and immediately shut it. "Eww, it's all gross on the inside!" Mom came over and peered at the mug. "Kids, this is a perfect example of what I read during my devotions today! In the book of Matthew, Jesus told the Pharisees to first clean the inside of the cup, and then the outside will also be clean. What do you think that verse actually means?"Stella wrinkled her nose in thought. "Oh, I know! God wants what we look like on the inside to matter more to us than our outward appearance." Hayden's eyes widened. "God wants us to clean our insides?" Stella smirked. "No, silly. God sees our hearts, and that's what matters to Him." "Oh, I get it now!" said Hayden. "We need to let Jesus make us clean." "You got it," said Mom. "When we trust Jesus as our Savior, He cleans our sin away and pours His love into our hearts. Then our outward actions will make His love visible to others." She smiled. "Now, who wants some hot chocolate to go in that mug?" –Summer ColemanHow About You?Are you more concerned with your outward appearance and how others see you than with God and how He sees your heart? What's on the inside matters more because when we truly have a clean heart, it shows in the way we act and speak. How do you get a clean heart? By trusting in Jesus. (To learn more, click the "Good News!" button in the right column of this page or go to www.keysforkids.org/goodnews.) When you have His love in your heart, others will see it in how you treat them.Today's Key Verse:First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside will also be clean. (NKJV) (Matthew 23:26)Today's Key Thought:What's inside is most important

For the next few days, you can listen to a couple of stories every single day.And that's because on our podcast, we will have some special storytellers!! We have middle and high school students who, through the summer, have been learning how to craft their own stories and then produce them on a podcast.Free activity sheet available at www.rituvaish.com/podcast-summer-camp. Let's give a warm welcome SrihitaTranscript THE GREAT ESCAPEHi, I'm Srihita!I was part of the Story Writing and podcasting Summer Camp 2025, organized by Miss Ritu Vaish, producer of the Story Prism Podcast. I had a great time learning how to write, record, and edit my own story.Here's one of the stories I created. I hope you enjoy it! Please give me your listening ear. It was a bright, sunny morning in a cozy little neighbourhood, where the smell of fresh dough and melted cheese floated through the air. Inside a cheerful kitchen with checkered curtains and a warm, golden glow, a freshly made pizza sat on a plate near the open window. Birds chirped outside, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves in the backyard trees. It was the perfect day for an adventure.The pizza's name was Poly. But Poly wasn't just any ordinary pizza—she dreamed of adventures and had one big goal: to never, ever be eaten."I want to go on an adventure!" she exclaimed one sunny morning, looking out the window. "I don't want to stay on this plate anymore. I want to see the world!"Poly slid off the plate and snuck out the kitchen door into the backyard.“Wheee!” she cheered, spinning and sliding with joy.But her excitement didn't last long. Max, the neighbour's dog, was playing outside when he spotted her.“Yum, pizza!” Max barked, his eyes widening. “You're my lunch for sure!”Poly's eyes went wide with panic. “Oh no!” she cried and rolled as fast as she could, trying to escape.Max chased her across the yard, tail wagging and tongue out. “I'm going to catch you!” he barked.“I can't get caught!” Poly thought desperately. She spotted something in the corner of the yard and sped toward it was a big, messy pile of trash.“Yes!” she whispered. “If I get all dirty, he won't want me anymore!”Poly jumped into the trash, covering herself in old banana peels, coffee grounds, and smelly leftovers.Max screeched to a stop nearby, sniffing the disgusting smell. “Eww… never mind,” he groaned.Poly giggled, proud of her clever escape. “Guess that's one way to lose your appetite.”But just as she caught her breath and thought she was finally safe, a shadow appeared across the grass. She looked up and saw…A sharp-eyed bird had spotted her from above. With a loud screech, it flew down and snatched her up in its claws!“oh no, help somebody, help” Poly shouted as the bird got higher and higher.Down below, Max looked up and gasped. “Hey! That's Poly!” Without thinking, he took off running, barking wildly. He chased the bird from the ground, and Jumped as high as he could and growling until it got startled and dropped Poly with a surprised squawk!Poly landed with a thud onto a soft patch of grass. She blinked, dizzy, and looked up to see Max standing over her.“Thank you for saving me!” she smiledMax wagged his tail. “You're welcome”She looked at her dirty and smelly self and laughed. “If you help me clean up, maybe we could go on more adventures together. We could even save other foods from being eaten!”Max perked up. “That sounds fun! Maybe I can find myself a snackable pizza”“Exactly,” Poly giggledMax barked happily. “Come on let's go!”And from that day on, a pizza and a dog: two unlikely friends: became the bravest, heroes the neighbourhood had ever seen. 

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

Eww. Just eww. The fact I endured this for 6 months is testament to my mental strength. ​For more awesome content to read including beauty, fashion or dating & love features, please do head over to my digital platform www.nixalina.com. Don't be shy, come say hai! Head over to my Instagram or Tiktok @nixalina to slide into my DMs.

Hey Bessie, send us a text message!Gising na, mga bakla!Pili-pili na ng mga bet, Bes Are you Team Veteran or Team Newbie? Kelangan din bang pumili kung Team Halooo or Team Nawat? Eww. pwede bang pass muna kami jan, Bes? Umayos sila huh! Pero sige na, makisawsaw tayo sa taunang Superbowl for the Bayots - ang Miss Universe Philippines MUPH!Nagbabalik si Bes CJ ng KoronaFilipina para makigulo sa kiki na 'to! Let the puksaan begin!Language: TagalogAlso check out CJSays Movie Blog. Support the showThe Balut Kiki Project is an international award-winning podcast being the only Philippine winner so far at the Asia Podcast Festival Awards held in Singapore.Follow/subscribe and, review and rate us on Spotify, ApplePodcasts, Podchaser. Connect with us on Facebook or Instagram . Advertise with us - Email: balutkiki@gmail.com. *Our podcast does not offer professional medical, sexual, or mental health advice. Our show aims to entertain and express truths about our personal experiences in dealing with issues we discuss. If you are undergoing depression or having suicidal thoughts, please go to these links: NCMH (PH) or Find a Helpline (worldwide). It's okay to ask for help.

I'm From the Mean Streets of Instagram, Eww, it tastes like Salad!, Well Herro, I'm Like Shamu, Jitterbug The boys talk people being too loud in the morning, passive aggressiveness, Erik's wife's confusing questions, Chris' new weird app recommendation, Robocop vs Total Recall, all new live call-ins including a Greek guy asking how to set boundaries from his mom, contrived situations and much more! Get the full episode plus two extra episodes every month at https://patreon.com/thegoldenhourpodcast

Did I forget Steve Allen? I don't know, but I definitely almost forgot Sephen Colbert. WHY! Because I can't decipher who you are from the other four of you! There's three of us. Where's number four?! {Enter The Multiverse} Suddenly, not every day was the same—and that was strange, as it seemed the entire year had just been residuals of the same day over and over—but these days we're distinctly different, and perhaps that's because without knowing what I was going to write, things were kept interesting, and even more interesting was what I was writing at all. Music: but was it comfortable? I had put out a single a day which by now amounted to an album all put together, and I might have thought to put it out as a compilation toward the end of it all, but I hadn't gotten that far yet; I was still in the proc de of an actual album, though more complex in reasoning and context—the concept was struggling to come to the surface. It had, after all, been in the realization that a prefixed muse has been envisioned somewhere in the sands of time, that painting of melting clocks merging together into some desert scraped sandstorm, something of illusion and something like a half imagined oasi…a hallucinated woman who might have been me, but actually beautiful—perfect, actually, draped in pearls and diamonds, dripping in them—leading this lost and wandering man—a beautiful man, also, to an oasis. Was the oasis real? I wasn't sure yet, and after the first track Mirage, I was behind by 4 days on what was supposed to have been whatever tracks followed, the list of them now stuck in wax to the base of the candle at the altar, still burning— a black candle for protection , of course—a strong reminder I should keep moving until whatever things and creatures had seemingly been sent after me could not find me, any longer—and however thought it might have been the case, even if just a seed as planted into my mind — it seems at least that one negative had turned positive, in the very least. The woman whom I had shared a room with just the year before— who seemed to be something like demonically possessed and had also just rather disappeared without a trace—left behind just a bit more than her sunglasses. Since I had thought it better safe than sorry to record everything just in case I continued to be attacked, (having been literally pounced on already twice by other roommate)s—a beautiful soundscape emerged from having been cursed out, a rant which had become increasingly hilarious over time, and of course, remembering Ms. Keisha more fondly than not, especially having left her sunglasses behind. Besides, after having by grown up with my mother, even the meanest people sometimes seemed mild by comparison in remembrance of her sometimes bitter and absolute cruelty. It's hard to have imagined that I had grown up under those conditions—and though now understanding that how some others had grown up in roach and rat infested housing projects, and however clean, mostly orderly, and overall class wise my mother was, on her worst days she had been horrible, especially for a child or adolescent to have dealt with alone, and so Ms. Keisha, though at most times, an irritant, had become a buried treasure, as I sifted through the mounds of recordings in order to create something unique, and different. After tipping off the copyright sensors not once, but twice—once having submitted a completely self composed work and still somehow being flagged by the system as copyrighted material, my music became more bizzare and strange, not just bending rules, but completely breaking them. —Tales of a superstar DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF [Sunni opens the door. No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan” –She's just over there now. Not was How are you even friends. FLASHBACK ‘ I don't want to be the reason, I could never know you— And I don't want to be the reason I could never love you' ‘Weird dreams, bro.' I had woken up with a song in my head I just flat out refused to sing; I knew it wouldn't come out the way it sounded in my head. it was beautiful, but the dream was a sentiment in itself — starring Lindsay Lohan, of course, still a redhead. Apparently we were sisters—same father, different mother; waking up, though, was silly and sounded bizzare— but in the dream it made sense. We were aware of each other, but just now really meeting for the first time— the place at all didn't seem Los Angeles, but the house was large and kind of old. It seemed I wanted to speak to her but was nervous—then, abandoning a music project entirely, had decided to ask Lindsay to go on a walk—she obliged, but seemed like she really wanted to be left alone, which I ignored—I wanted to get to know my sister, but really— I think, it seemed like I just wanted to ask questions about being super famous. ‘What was it like to be loved?' I didn't ask flat out. In fact, I stayed quiet and let her do the talking— eventually she became upset and began crying. Being rich and famous was not all it was chalked up to be; upset and furious— though not irate, and simply in tears, she began to reveal she had a drinking problem—naturally of course, I then took her to have a drink. I made the drinks weaker, but she wanted more, however, I didn't want her to get sick, so she stormed off and started yelling at me again. Now she was drunk and actually yelling— she told me her real Hollywood story, full of struggles, and that everything was a lie. I changed the subject to our paternal bond, telling her none of that mattered and we should just focus on being sisters, but she just kept going on about the Hollywood life—and how fake everything was. She claimed she was a washed up old sham— I refused, stating that she seemed to be doing well, and I quipped— “That's not true, didn't I see you on Fallon?” It was in fact the only Tonight Show segment I had watched all year, after writing the song ‘JIMMY FALLON' in early spring— I did after all, love Lindsay Lohan, who had been written into the festival project as well, ironically as Sunnï Blu's alcoholic celebrity companion—so this dream was probably my fault anyway somehow, considering it was happening in my head. Lol. Her response to the comment about the appearance on Tonight made me laugh—still pirated (pissed, drunk) she goes “Oh please! Have you ever heard him speak a full sentence [on his own]?!” Seemed like a personal dig, but I tried to hold back a snickering giggle. “Okay…” I let her go on, eventually as it seemed returning to the bar. It seemed the fact that we were sisters by blood only kind of mattered to me— Dream ended with a song that happened to be in the key of frankengenie, but I wasn't going to sing it. It was Christmas Day, not that it mattered, and I had been to bed in the early morning after the last release The Glimmer Twins [The Abyss], which was a narrative song for The festivsl Project's Enter The Multiverse collection —which I'd been inspired to write from a book I was reading. Of courses I woke up needing the Peloton, but opted for Christmas Pasta, closer to sitting down to write then not and knowing if i exercised at all it would be hours before diving into Ableton, I wasn't fat, but feeling heavier than usual after Au gratin potatoes made from scratch and yellow curry over lentils and brown rice —all completely organic, but still heavier than I was used to, though… in the spirit of the holidays, it was nice to cook. Pasta sounded okay, and I knew I needed to write something better than [The Abyss], anyway, and so I went to work—first on the food, Then on the music. —Tales of a superstar DJ. lol what happened to Lindsay? Idk. I could practically taste the tequila. Well, I was the one pouring it. Way to enable. I was just trying to calm her down. Did it work? Eventually I guess. lol what happened to Lindsay? Idk. I could practically taste the tequila. Well, I was the one pouring it. Way to enable. I was just trying to calm her down. Did it work? Eventually I guess. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 | 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Did I forget Steve Allen? I don't know, but I definitely almost forgot Sephen Colbert. WHY! Because I can't decipher who you are from the other four of you! There's three of us. Where's number four?! {Enter The Multiverse} Suddenly, not every day was the same—and that was strange, as it seemed the entire year had just been residuals of the same day over and over—but these days we're distinctly different, and perhaps that's because without knowing what I was going to write, things were kept interesting, and even more interesting was what I was writing at all. Music: but was it comfortable? I had put out a single a day which by now amounted to an album all put together, and I might have thought to put it out as a compilation toward the end of it all, but I hadn't gotten that far yet; I was still in the proc de of an actual album, though more complex in reasoning and context—the concept was struggling to come to the surface. It had, after all, been in the realization that a prefixed muse has been envisioned somewhere in the sands of time, that painting of melting clocks merging together into some desert scraped sandstorm, something of illusion and something like a half imagined oasi…a hallucinated woman who might have been me, but actually beautiful—perfect, actually, draped in pearls and diamonds, dripping in them—leading this lost and wandering man—a beautiful man, also, to an oasis. Was the oasis real? I wasn't sure yet, and after the first track Mirage, I was behind by 4 days on what was supposed to have been whatever tracks followed, the list of them now stuck in wax to the base of the candle at the altar, still burning— a black candle for protection , of course—a strong reminder I should keep moving until whatever things and creatures had seemingly been sent after me could not find me, any longer—and however thought it might have been the case, even if just a seed as planted into my mind — it seems at least that one negative had turned positive, in the very least. The woman whom I had shared a room with just the year before— who seemed to be something like demonically possessed and had also just rather disappeared without a trace—left behind just a bit more than her sunglasses. Since I had thought it better safe than sorry to record everything just in case I continued to be attacked, (having been literally pounced on already twice by other roommate)s—a beautiful soundscape emerged from having been cursed out, a rant which had become increasingly hilarious over time, and of course, remembering Ms. Keisha more fondly than not, especially having left her sunglasses behind. Besides, after having by grown up with my mother, even the meanest people sometimes seemed mild by comparison in remembrance of her sometimes bitter and absolute cruelty. It's hard to have imagined that I had grown up under those conditions—and though now understanding that how some others had grown up in roach and rat infested housing projects, and however clean, mostly orderly, and overall class wise my mother was, on her worst days she had been horrible, especially for a child or adolescent to have dealt with alone, and so Ms. Keisha, though at most times, an irritant, had become a buried treasure, as I sifted through the mounds of recordings in order to create something unique, and different. After tipping off the copyright sensors not once, but twice—once having submitted a completely self composed work and still somehow being flagged by the system as copyrighted material, my music became more bizzare and strange, not just bending rules, but completely breaking them. —Tales of a superstar DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF [Sunni opens the door. No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan” –She's just over there now. Not was How are you even friends. FLASHBACK ‘ j don't want to be the reason, I could never know you— And I don't want to be the reason I could never love you' ‘Weird dreams, bro.' I had woken up with a song in my head I just flat out refused to sing, I knew it wouldn't come out the way it sounded in my head it was beautiful, but the dream was a sentiment in itself — starring Lindsay Lohan, of course, still a redhead. Apparently we were sisters—same father. Different mother; waking up not was silly and sounded bizzare but in the dream it made sense. We were aware of each other, but just now really meeting for the first time— the place at all didn't seem Los Angeles, but the house was large and kind of old. It seemed I wanted to speak to her but was nervous—then, abandoning a music project entirely, had decided to ask Lindsay to go on a walk—she obliged, but seemed like she really wanted to be left alone, which I ignored—I wanted to get to know my sister, but really— I think, it seemed like I just wanted to ask questions about being super famous. ‘What was it like to be loved?' I didn't ask flat out. In fact, I stayed quiet and let her do the talking— eventually she became upset and began crying. Being rich and famous was not all it was chocked up to be; upset and furious though not irate and simply in tears, she began to reveal she had a drinking problem—naturally of course, I then took her to have a drink. I made the drinks weaker, but she wanted more, but I didn't want her to get sick, so she stormed off and started yelling at me again. Now she was drunk and actually yelling— she told me her real Hollywood story, full of struggles, an that everything was a lie. I changed the subject to our paternal bond, telling her none of that mattered and we should just focus on being sisters, but she just kept going on about the Hollywood life—and how fake everything was. She claimed she was a washed up old sham— I refused that she seemed to be doing well, and I quipped “That's not true, didn't I see you on Fallon?” It was in fact the only Tonight Show segment I had watched all year, after writing the song ‘JIMMY FALLON' in early spring— I did after all, love Lindsay Lohan, who had been written into the festival project as well, ironically as Sunnï Blu's alcoholic celebrity companion—so this dream was probably my fault anyway somehow, considering it was happening in my head. Lol. Her her response to the comment about her appearance on Fallon made me laugh—still pirated she goes “Oh please! Have you ever heard him speak a full sentence?!” Seemed personal, but I tried to hold back a snickering giggle. “Okay…” I let her go on, eventually as it seemed returning to the bar. It seemed the tact that we were sisters by blood only kind of mattered to me— Dream ended with a song that happened to be in the key of frankengenie, but I wasn't going to sing it. It was Christmas Day, not that it mattered, and I had been to bed in the early morning after the last release The Glimmer Twins [The Abyss], which was a narrative song for The festivsl projedt's Enter The Multiverse collection Ghat I'd been inspired to write from a book I was reading. I woke up needing the Peloton, but opted for Christmas Pasta, closer to sitting down to write then not and knowing if i excersisd at all it would be hours before diving into Ableton, I wasn't fat, but feeling heavier than usual after au gratin potatoes made from scratch and yellow curry over lentils and brown rice —all completely organic, but still heavier than I was used to, though in the spirit of the holidays, it was nice to cook. Pasta sounded okay, and I knew I needed to write something better than [The Abyss], anyway, and so I went to work—first on the food. Then on the music. —takes of a superstar DJ. lol what happened to Lindsay? Idk. I could practically taste the tequila. Well, I was the one pouring it. Way to enable. I was just trying to calm her down. Did it work? Eventually I guess. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 | 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Did I forget Steve Allen? I don't know, but I definitely almost forgot Sephen Colbert. WHY! Because I can't decipher who you are from the other four of you! There's three of us. Where's number four?! {Enter The Multiverse} Suddenly, not every day was the same—and that was strange, as it seemed the entire year had just been residuals of the same day over and over—but these days we're distinctly different, and perhaps that's because without knowing what I was going to write, things were kept interesting, and even more interesting was what I was writing at all. Music: but was it comfortable? I had put out a single a day which by now amounted to an album all put together, and I might have thought to put it out as a compilation toward the end of it all, but I hadn't gotten that far yet; I was still in the proc de of an actual album, though more complex in reasoning and context—the concept was struggling to come to the surface. It had, after all, been in the realization that a prefixed muse has been envisioned somewhere in the sands of time, that painting of melting clocks merging together into some desert scraped sandstorm, something of illusion and something like a half imagined oasi…a hallucinated woman who might have been me, but actually beautiful—perfect, actually, draped in pearls and diamonds, dripping in them—leading this lost and wandering man—a beautiful man, also, to an oasis. Was the oasis real? I wasn't sure yet, and after the first track Mirage, I was behind by 4 days on what was supposed to have been whatever tracks followed, the list of them now stuck in wax to the base of the candle at the altar, still burning— a black candle for protection , of course—a strong reminder I should keep moving until whatever things and creatures had seemingly been sent after me could not find me, any longer—and however thought it might have been the case, even if just a seed as planted into my mind — it seems at least that one negative had turned positive, in the very least. The woman whom I had shared a room with just the year before— who seemed to be something like demonically possessed and had also just rather disappeared without a trace—left behind just a bit more than her sunglasses. Since I had thought it better safe than sorry to record everything just in case I continued to be attacked, (having been literally pounced on already twice by other roommate)s—a beautiful soundscape emerged from having been cursed out, a rant which had become increasingly hilarious over time, and of course, remembering Ms. Keisha more fondly than not, especially having left her sunglasses behind. Besides, after having by grown up with my mother, even the meanest people sometimes seemed mild by comparison in remembrance of her sometimes bitter and absolute cruelty. It's hard to have imagined that I had grown up under those conditions—and though now understanding that how some others had grown up in roach and rat infested housing projects, and however clean, mostly orderly, and overall class wise my mother was, on her worst days she had been horrible, especially for a child or adolescent to have dealt with alone, and so Ms. Keisha, though at most times, an irritant, had become a buried treasure, as I sifted through the mounds of recordings in order to create something unique, and different. After tipping off the copyright sensors not once, but twice—once having submitted a completely self composed work and still somehow being flagged by the system as copyrighted material, my music became more bizzare and strange, not just bending rules, but completely breaking them. —Tales of a superstar DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF [Sunni opens the door. No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan” –She's just over there now. Not was How are you even friends. FLASHBACK ‘ I don't want to be the reason, I could never know you— And I don't want to be the reason I could never love you' ‘Weird dreams, bro.' I had woken up with a song in my head I just flat out refused to sing; I knew it wouldn't come out the way it sounded in my head. it was beautiful, but the dream was a sentiment in itself — starring Lindsay Lohan, of course, still a redhead. Apparently we were sisters—same father, different mother; waking up, though, was silly and sounded bizzare— but in the dream it made sense. We were aware of each other, but just now really meeting for the first time— the place at all didn't seem Los Angeles, but the house was large and kind of old. It seemed I wanted to speak to her but was nervous—then, abandoning a music project entirely, had decided to ask Lindsay to go on a walk—she obliged, but seemed like she really wanted to be left alone, which I ignored—I wanted to get to know my sister, but really— I think, it seemed like I just wanted to ask questions about being super famous. ‘What was it like to be loved?' I didn't ask flat out. In fact, I stayed quiet and let her do the talking— eventually she became upset and began crying. Being rich and famous was not all it was chalked up to be; upset and furious— though not irate, and simply in tears, she began to reveal she had a drinking problem—naturally of course, I then took her to have a drink. I made the drinks weaker, but she wanted more, however, I didn't want her to get sick, so she stormed off and started yelling at me again. Now she was drunk and actually yelling— she told me her real Hollywood story, full of struggles, and that everything was a lie. I changed the subject to our paternal bond, telling her none of that mattered and we should just focus on being sisters, but she just kept going on about the Hollywood life—and how fake everything was. She claimed she was a washed up old sham— I refused, stating that she seemed to be doing well, and I quipped— “That's not true, didn't I see you on Fallon?” It was in fact the only Tonight Show segment I had watched all year, after writing the song ‘JIMMY FALLON' in early spring— I did after all, love Lindsay Lohan, who had been written into the festival project as well, ironically as Sunnï Blu's alcoholic celebrity companion—so this dream was probably my fault anyway somehow, considering it was happening in my head. Lol. Her response to the comment about the appearance on Tonight made me laugh—still pirated (pissed, drunk) she goes “Oh please! Have you ever heard him speak a full sentence [on his own]?!” Seemed like a personal dig, but I tried to hold back a snickering giggle. “Okay…” I let her go on, eventually as it seemed returning to the bar. It seemed the fact that we were sisters by blood only kind of mattered to me— Dream ended with a song that happened to be in the key of frankengenie, but I wasn't going to sing it. It was Christmas Day, not that it mattered, and I had been to bed in the early morning after the last release The Glimmer Twins [The Abyss], which was a narrative song for The festivsl Project's Enter The Multiverse collection —which I'd been inspired to write from a book I was reading. Of courses I woke up needing the Peloton, but opted for Christmas Pasta, closer to sitting down to write then not and knowing if i exercised at all it would be hours before diving into Ableton, I wasn't fat, but feeling heavier than usual after Au gratin potatoes made from scratch and yellow curry over lentils and brown rice —all completely organic, but still heavier than I was used to, though… in the spirit of the holidays, it was nice to cook. Pasta sounded okay, and I knew I needed to write something better than [The Abyss], anyway, and so I went to work—first on the food, Then on the music. —Tales of a superstar DJ. lol what happened to Lindsay? Idk. I could practically taste the tequila. Well, I was the one pouring it. Way to enable. I was just trying to calm her down. Did it work? Eventually I guess. lol what happened to Lindsay? Idk. I could practically taste the tequila. Well, I was the one pouring it. Way to enable. I was just trying to calm her down. Did it work? Eventually I guess. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 | 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

It's the holidays which means you may be spending time with family and friends that aren't familiar with Taylor Swift. “Who is Taylor Swift anyway? Eww!” How do you win over the friends and family that don't get the Taylor Swift craze? Amy, Nick and Lacey share their song picks for those special people that aren't on our level but should be! What songs would you use to convert someone? There are lots of ways to reach us, including our exclusive Lobster Lounge! Join in on the discussion there at https://station.page/13 , or let us know on the socials! THIS PODCAST IS SPONSORED BY QUINCE! Go to https://www.quince.com/taylorswiftfan for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns THIS PODCAST IS SPONSORED BY VIIA! Try VIIA Hemp! https://bit.ly/viiaTAYLORSWIFTFAN and use code SWIFTFANPOD THIS PODCAST IS SPONSORED BY CHIME! Get started today at https://www.chime.com/TAYLORSWIFTFAN THIS PODCAST IS SPONSORED BY BETTER HELP! Go to https://www.betterhelp.com/TAYLORSWIFTFAN today to get 10% off your first month CONTACT THE PODCAST! Voicemail Number- (689) 214-1313 Email- the13podcast@gmail.com IG- https://www.instagram.com/the13podcast TikTok- https://www.tiktok.com/@the13podcast Twitter- https://twitter.com/the13TSpodcast YouTube- https://www.youtube.com/@13ATaylorSwiftFanPodcast FOLLOW US! The13Podcast.Net Ana - https://www.instagram.com/anaszabo13 Lacey – https://www.instagram.com/laceygee13 Amy – https://www.instagram.com/amysnichols Nick – https://www.instagram.com/nickadamsonair CHECK OUT OUR OTHER PODCASTS! Nick – "Shut Up!" & "The Chatty Daddies" Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

UNLOCK THE FULL EPISODE BY SUBSCRIBING TO OUR PATREON AT PATREON.COM/REREADINGTHEREVOLUTION"They said, 'North Carolina? Eww.'"In this month's bonus episode, we discuss the 2019 Netflix adaptation of Let It Snow, which is very different from the book. The cast list is studded with medium-sized young stars, the jokes are largely misses, and the holiday pageant centerpiece is absolutely not talked about enough. Happy holidays! Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Join us for a Special Late Night edition of The Mike Davis Show. Tonight, Davey and Clay sit down with Michael and Bridget Hennessy and talk EWW, Balloon Art, and more!

“The pain was necessary in order to know the truth. But we don't have to keep the pain alive in order to keep the truth alive.”- Mark Nepo Rachel Guenther teaches us all about Big T and Little T traumatic events as she compares “trauma” to a trash compacter— Like we've pressed the button and shoved down all the garbage inside our bodies to create space to function— Eww. But that at some point, our bodies (and souls) are going to need to clear out the unnecessary load we are hauling everywhere with us. Dr. Skinner also adds how trauma changes how safe, or unsafe, we feel in our world. That when we are still in trauma, it's harder for us to show up in relationships as a parent and as partner. And how working through trauma is a gift we not only give to ourselves, but also to all the people around us...especially those most dear. We also learn about the safe, advanced therapeutic processes used to release trauma from the body, such as EMDR and ART. And how these processes work to release the pain from the events stored inside our bodies. Overall, the key takeaway is that after experiencing some of life's most harrowing and unfair events, finding safety, trust and healing is very achievable with the right support and resources. Please join us! You & us— We got this, Carly Red and Dr. Skinner 00:58 Rachel's Journey into Trauma Work03:48 Defining Trauma05:26 Impact of Trauma on Self-Perception06:33 Childhood Experiences and Trauma 09:34 Relational Aspects of Trauma14:19 Individual Responses to Trauma19:39 Importance of Perceived Social Support22:23 Understanding Trauma and Its Symptoms24:11 Identifying Trauma in Children26:17 Approaches to Discussing Trauma with Children29:35 Therapeutic Techniques like ART and EMDR 31:28 The Role of the Body in Trauma Healing36:06 Trauma and Addiction43:33 Advancements in Trauma Therapy47:16 Final Thoughts and Reflections https://findingnoble.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠ We are hoping to help homes, families and educators everywhere… so please  like, review, subscribe and...  even share with friends and family looking for parenting support. To subscribe to helpful emails head here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://findingnoble.com/about/⁠⁠⁠⁠ Watch the episodes on Youtube: ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.youtube.com/@FindingNoble/featured

Therésa is back from her “relaxing” getaway to the Elysian Fields. Still basking in her post-vacation afterglow,” Therésa dives right in with tales from two supernaturally sensitive women who seem to have a knack for attracting trouble from beyond. Elizabeth's college night turns hellish when an unexpected guest joins her in bed—Eww. No, not like that. And then Ashley, whose prison tour will send shivers down your back after she endures physical pain from a very unfriendly spirit. Buckle up, keep the lights on, and remember: “Soft white light, you're all right!”   If you would like to reach out to the Haunting team and share your own ghost story, email us at HauntingThePodcast@gmail.com.  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Season 6 Episode 9:  Cure So the gang go and visit a civilization that are DEF not Nazis!  Weird as hell, tho.  They got a super drink that cures diseases, and all they want in return is our rolodex of Goul'd Planets.  The gang is cautious. Then Jonas and Teal'c break into a warehouse, and Here There Be Gou'lds, all swimmin in the pools.  The Slurm is from them?  Eww. But where'd they come from?  Will it be a super, canon-defying plot twist, which makes a lot of previous episodes (Especially Hathor) make no goddamn sense!!!???. . . . . . .yes, yes it will. ----more---- 00:00 - Intro 7:42 - 24 Seconds 9:10 - Episode Debrief 1:16:00 - Were We Comforted 1:18:18 - Yeh Neh or Meh 1:21:33 - Next Episode 1:22:48 - ComeTrya! 1:23:35 - Get To Know Your Hosts 1:27:25 - Outro

Sixteen years ago today, Hannah and I sat down together at our big desktop computer and she helped me set up my Facebook page.  And she also wrote the very first post on my page ... "Eww ... My Mom has a Facebook! jk jk"  It still makes me smile today!  :)Thank you for joining me for another bonus episode of the While We're Waiting podcast in this year-long series in which I share our family's experiences as our teenage daughter Hannah battled glioblastoma brain cancer from February 2008 through February 2009.  My desire is to process through the events of those twelve months with the perspective that 16 years has brought … and point listeners to hope in Jesus along the way.I would love to hear your thoughts on the show. Click here to send me a message!** IMPORTANT** - All views expressed by guests on this podcast are theirs alone, and may not represent the Statement of Faith and Statement of Beliefs of the While We're Waiting ministry. We'd love for you to connect with us here at While We're Waiting! Click HERE to visit our website and learn about our free While We're Waiting Weekends for bereaved parentsClick HERE to learn more about our network of While We're Waiting support groups all across the country. Click HERE to subscribe to our YouTube channelClick HERE to follow our public Facebook pageClick HERE to follow us on Instagram Click HERE to follow us on Twitter Click HERE to make a tax-deductible donation to the While We're Waiting ministryContact Jill by email at: jill@whilewerewaiting.org

Get ready for a walk-and-talk episode where Chalene shares her latest updates as she tracks her steps with two different rings (comparing the Aura Ring to its budget-friendly dupe, the RingCon). On top of that, she's dropping a few quick updates, including the latest on Mugsy the cat and the rat situation as well what to expect in Friday's upcoming episode—let's just say, it's all about sex and nothing like she's done before. Finally, she dives into part two of "Oh My God, Eww!,” where she goes off on the little things that totally gross her out. It's a fun, no-politics, chill session to help lighten your day!  

Welp, howdy son. This here's the SEC, welcome to hell. This week on the radio show, we dive right into Georgia showin' Texas a thang ‘er two about playing with the big dawgs. This week we have another strong slate of games. Teams from conferences far and wide. Notre Dame v Navy! Illinois v Oregon!! LSU v Aggies!!! Eww. Who is better, Caleb or Jayden? Who is whiter, Cousins or Baker?? Who turns it around, Eagles or Bengals??? And finally…who could care, Niners v Cowboys???? Download and subscribe, rate and review. Tune in Fridays at 2 PM Mountain Time, only on 89.1 KHOL

The NFL and College Football seasons are in midseason form, and so is Teton Sports Talk. This week we dive into all the wonderful matchups the sports gods have to offer. But first, Tony Bennett. What can we say? We'll always have 2019. Tony is the greatest SPORTS Coach in UVA history. Tons of wins, tons of awards, and tons of great memories. Happy it happened, sorry to see it end. Anyways…the Georgia Bulldawgs head to Austin for a SEC matchup against the Texas Longhorns. Kirby or Sark? Beck or Ewers?? Uga or Bevo??? It should be electric. Meanwhile, Alabama travels to Tennessee in a potential midseason playoff for the playoff game. Don't look now but Indiana and Illinois are both ranked and good. We wrap up with LSU v Arkansas, Kansas State v West Virginia, and Notre Dame v Georgia Tech. Baker or Lamar? Mahomes or Purdy?? Goff or Darnold??? Stroud or Love???? Rogers or Wilson??!??? Eww. Download and subscribe, rate and review. Tune in Fridays at 2 PM Mountain Time, only on 89.1 KHOL

Send us a textSeason 29 Episode 6 "Folie a Eww" - On this Episode we breakdown all the news in TV and Movies from 10/2/24-10/8/24, We have Non-Spoiler Movie thoughts on "Joker: Folie a Deux" PLUS TV Notes on Found S2, Superman & Lois S4 and so much more...Support the showwww.AmIOnTheAir.comFollow on Twitter at @AmIOnTheAirLike us on Facebook at Facebook.com/AmIOnTheAirFollow on TikTok, Instagram and YouTubeSupport the Show on Cashapp $DONMEGA and Venmo at @DONMEGA

Eww.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this hilarious and unapologetically candid episode, Chalene is on fire with her "Oh My God, Eww" list. She's letting it all out—from overly peppy waitstaff and airport chaos to obnoxious drivers and bizarre fashion choices. Prepare for some real talk about things that get under her skin, plus a little roasting of the younger generations (looking at you, Gen Z). But it's not all rants—Chalene also dishes on some must-watch shows to add to your list!

Our patrons decided to gross us out and make us read Nick Cutter's The Troop. Eww... Note: This is an unedited audio copy of the live-streamed discussion over on YouTube, so you'll hear us interact with the audience a bit. Click here to submit a book for the Book Club Next months book is Horror Movie By Paul Tremblay.  We'll be meeting to discuss it on Friday, August 30th at 9:30 PM Central Time!!! Support us on Patreon Matt's Twitter: @moridinamael Scott's Twitter:@scottdaly85 Stay updated with Doof Media: @doofmedia See all of our podcasts, writing, and more at www.doofmedia.com

Welcome back to Eww, Sports! In this episode we give you a nice little NFL Preview. Caitlin and Spencer do a bit of a deep dive into their respective teams (Broncos and Cowboys) and a look ahead into what next season might hold.

Welcome to Episode 2 of Eww, Sports. In this episode we finish up our offseason trade talks, talk Olympics basketball, and debut our first episode with Sexy Sports at the end.

Welcome to Episode 1 of Eww, Sports hosted by Spencer and Caitlin. In this episode we do a quick recap of the NBA Draft and deep dive into the NBA offseason and trades going on.

Bible Reading: Luke 6:45; James 3:8-13"Your turn to pray, Carlos," said Maria when their family sat down to eat."Okay." Carlos bowed his head. "Thank you, God, for this day and this food…"When Carlos looked up a moment later, he groaned. "Oh no! Not broccoli again! I hate broccoli--and I don't like chicken fixed like that!" But Carlos knew he had to eat some, so he took a small portion from each dish. "This weather is way too hot," he complained between bites.Dad frowned. "Carlos, do you think God heard your prayer tonight?"Carlos looked at Dad in surprise. "Of course," he replied."And does He hear your grumbling too?" asked Dad.Carlos looked down at his plate. "I guess so," he admitted.Dad nodded. "I think so too. After dinner, we'll go out to the pond. I think it has something to teach you."At the edge of the pond a short time later, Carlos watched as Dad took a bucket and hauled up some water. "Are we going to water the garden?" asked Carlos.Dad shook his head and held out the bucket. "Here. Have a drink.""Eww!" exclaimed Carlos. "Dad, you know the water in this pond is filthy!""Yes," said Dad, "but you won't be drinking the water in the pond. You'll be drinking the water in the bucket."Carlos made a face. "If the water in the pond isn't good, the water in the bucket won't be good either. It's the same thing."Dad nodded. "Right again. What's in the pond comes up in the bucket. That's like something Jesus taught. He said, 'What you say flows from what is in your heart.' Think about your prayer tonight, Carlos--and about what you said after you prayed. You thanked God and then griped about the very things you thanked Him for. I've noticed that attitude more often lately, but you have the ability to change it. Jesus has given you a new, clean heart because He loves you, Carlos--He loves you so much that He died for your sins. Because of that, your words should be rooted in gratitude for everything He's done for you."Carlos looked at the stuff floating on the water in the bucket. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'll tell Jesus I'm sorry too."–Mary Rose PearsonHow About You?What kind of attitude do you show others by what you say? The Bible says that our words flow from what's in our hearts. Do your words tell others that you have a thankful heart? Life isn't easy, but if you know Jesus, He is always with you and has given you a new heart so you can share His love and goodness with others. Instead of complaining, thank Him for His goodness to you and tell others about the good things He does for you each day.Today's Key Verse:Blessing and cursing come pouring out of the same mouth. Surely, my brothers and sisters, this is not right! (NLT) (James 3:10)Today's Key Thought:Have a thankful heart

ARGH! Oh no. Shit. For God's sake no. Please. Why? Eww. No! Seriously Why? Oh god. Fine. Here it is. Fuck.  More Pauls! https://facebook.com/ogtpod https://twitter.com/ogtpod We have a Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/ogtpod – sign up for exclusive content for as little as $1 a month. Listen to Salt's show Jen and the Film Critic with OGT guest and deep friend Jen Blundell here! Like d&d? Want more Pauls? Into nerd shit AND jokes about bums? Why not check out our d&d actual play podcast, Quest Fantastic?  https://shows.acast.com/quest-fantastic link.chtbl.com/questfantastic RSS: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/61d8e6b335501c0012b6c367 Goodman's EP 'Future Music' is out now! Find out where you can stream and purchase here: Future Music by Run//Phase (songwhip.com)

Did you have a good Easter!?!  Chunga and Chandler would've... Except they forgot it was Easter!Are you following this Shohei Ohtani gambling scandal?  Chunga thinks he's guilty as hell, and his interpreter is taking the fall for him!! Why? 3 specific reasons!!!The legendary Tropicana Hotel in Las Vegas is closing on Tuesday!!!  People are really sad! They're also really mad because the Oakland A's are EWW!!!!!!Hey Chris?  How's the new car?!  WHAT?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!There's a rumor going around that Nicholas Cage and Angelina Jolie are starting up and brand new movie studio together, but it's a movie studio with a twist?  Is this real, or is this story a big April Fools stunt?Gregg is changing the theme of his movie shout outs AND!!!  It's time for Your Really Stupid News!!!!!  Listen NOW!!! It's on www.radioronin.com and everywhere you get your podcasts!!!

Did you have a good Easter!?!  Chunga and Chandler would've... Except they forgot it was Easter!Are you following this Shohei Ohtani gambling scandal?  Chunga thinks he's guilty as hell, and his interpreter is taking the fall for him!! Why? 3 specific reasons!!!The legendary Tropicana Hotel in Las Vegas is closing on Tuesday!!!  People are really sad! They're also really mad because the Oakland A's are EWW!!!!!!Hey Chris?  How's the new car?!  WHAT?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!There's a rumor going around that Nicholas Cage and Angelina Jolie are starting up and brand new movie studio together, but it's a movie studio with a twist?  Is this real, or is this story a big April Fools stunt?Gregg is changing the theme of his movie shout outs AND!!!  It's time for Your Really Stupid News!!!!!  Listen NOW!!! It's on www.radioronin.com and everywhere you get your podcasts!!!

You want to meet wonderful women, make some moves, and get those sparks flying, right? But what if you do or say something creepy, and she rejects you? That would hurt. No one wants to feel like a creep. Here's some help. In this episode, dating coach Connell Barrett counts downThe top 7 things that men do that make women go “Eww!” Are you making any of these common, creepy mistakes? Listen now to find out, fix it, and start dating some wonderful women.FOR A FREE STRATEGY CALL WITH CONNELL, TO LEARN HOW TO ALWAYS KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO WOMEN:http://www.datingtransformation.com/contactGET CONNELL'S NO. 1 BESTSELLING GUIDE FOR MEN, “DATING SUCKS BUT YOU DON'T,” YOUR PRACTICAL GUIDE ON HOW TO GET A GIRLFRIEND BY BEING RADICALLY AUTHENTIC:www.amazon.com/Dating-Sucks-but-You-Dont-ebook/dp/B08LDZL3Quotes"There's a time to be persistent, but when a woman isn't interested, graciously move on." - Connell BarrettFeatured in the episodeConnell BarrettFounder and Executive Coach of Dating TransformationWebsite:https://datingtransformation.comInstagram:https://www.instagram.com/datingtransformationChapters00:00 - Introduction03:42 - Navigating the Perception of Creepiness with Composure06:43 - Truth vs. Fiction: Struggles with Deceit and Discomfort07:23 - Shedding the Mask for Lasting Connections04:09 - Gratitude shift: "Not me, the friendly guy over there"09:51 - Impact of potato chip consumption on pickup artist success12:33 - Addressing inappropriate touching and respect15:49 - Pitfalls of objectifying women with body comments18:14 - Spooky first date objectification story20:42 - The Threefold Approach of Persistence, Charm, and Empathy23:29 - Importance of honesty and avoiding manipulation24:32 - Emphasizing honesty in dating and daily life25:19 - OutroProduced by Heartcastmedia

Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson waste time and money on 70s nostalgia, Rocky and Bullwinkle's best bit takes the spotlight, EWW a 300 sequel, Leonardo Dicaprio heats up in a way many choose to forget, "Hello, Fellow Sopranos!", South Park puts the TV and game industry to shame, and one of the most influential cartoon shows of the 1990s is sadly the most forgotten: Duckman Debuts! All that and more this week 30, 20 and 10 years ago!

"Eww, that sounds disgusting."That's what you said. I heard you. I'm in the room with you right now. No, don't turn around. That will ruin the surprise.

BlackRock's Jay Jacobs discusses best investing themes for 2024 (1:00) - Breaking Down The Bitcoin Trust ETF: IBIT (5:40) - Why Should Investors Focus On Targeted Investment Opportunities in 2024? (7:45) - How To Benefit From The Next Phase of AI? (12:00) - Where To Find Healthcare Investments For 2024? (16:30) - The Rewiring of Globalization and How To Take Advantage As An Investor (20:40) - Episode Roundup: SOXX, IDGT, IBRN, IDNA, EWW, EMXC, INDA, EPI Podcast@Zacks.com  

This song is called EWW by who are you

If you haven't made your TikTok likes private, here's your sign to do so! In this episode, Link discovers his TikTok history was public, causing him to freak out at what he might have “liked,” and Rhett finds out some intriguing details to his son's music choices. Plus, why you really shouldn't be donating sex toys to a thrift store. Or… anywhere, really. Eww. Join the Mythical Society to watch the Cotton Candy Randy Mediation Special! mythicalsociety.com To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Welcome to Eww! That's Creepy podcast! This episode, Melissa is telling Jackie about a 20 year disappearance that was solving Google Maps. Please be aware that this episode will discuss drug trafficking and murder. Listener discretion is advised.  Sources https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-59884803 https://www.nytimes.com/2022/01/07/world/europe/italian-mafia-fugitive-google-maps.html https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/jan/05/italian-mafia-fugitive-arrested-in-spain-after-google-maps-sighting#:~:text=Gioacchino%20Gammino%2C%20a%20convicted%20murderer,a%20fruit%20and%20vegetable%20shop. https://www.cosanostranews.com/2014/08/violence-of-italys-fifth-mafia-second.html

This week's show asks what it means for Mike Johnson to be his son's porn "accountability partner" (Eww!) and we learn what TikTokers are saying about Vivek Ramaswamy and sex. (Double Eww!) Plus, Greg opines about GOP debate nachos and Rebekah raps a Hamiltonian warning about a government shutdown. That's right, rap music, porn talk and debate nachos – all on this week's MPU podcast!This show is part of the Spreaker Prime Network, if you are interested in advertising on this podcast, contact us at https://www.spreaker.com/show/3292862/advertisement

Scandalous! (Ashley A. Voice) Remember that? It comes to mind anytime Manny Oso makes a gaff and tries to play it off like it was planned. Or when Nicky is out in an awkward situation and needs to react! These two try, but thank God they're not that famous, because the headlines would be eye rolling! On this episode, your Hosts come clean with a couple personal stories that would make great celebrity scandals. Manny Oso recounts a time he went over a girlfriend's house and should have taken the trash out, too. Eww! And Nicky Trendz is just happy she hasn't had to do press junkets after the relationships she's had. Embarrassing. Obnoxious. Relatable? -… you be the judge! But anyways, you tell us! - Whats your favorite Celebrity Scandal? - Does Nicky Trendz need to go public with these break-up stories? - What's the grossest thing a dog can eat and survive? (Don't make us Google it!) To keep up with the Ducks in charge follow: FB & IG: @Bubblebathstories Nicky Trendz IG: @nickyTRENDZ Manny Oso IG: @gotnotime4diss For official Merch head over to Bubblebathstories.co

Welcome to Eww! That's Creepy podcast. Jackie is going to tell Melissa about a horrific string of murders inspired by the movie Robocop 2. Please be aware that this episode will discuss sexual assault, suicide and murder. Listener discretion is advised.   Sources Copycat Killers Season 2 Episode 4

Welcome to Eww! That's Creepy podcast! In this episode, Melissa will tell Jackie about a case from Scotland involving obsession, dark desires and vampires. Please be aware that this episode will discuss suicide, assault, cannibalism, and murder. Listener discretion is advised.   Sources Copycat Killers S1E13 http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/scotland/3174214.stm https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2004/nov/16/ukcrime.kirstyscott  

Now this? This is what we're talking about. This? This is the good stuff. And DADDY? He is officially home. (No, not Joss. Eww.) So join your "intriguingly unstable" hosts LaToya Ferguson and Morgan Lutich (AKA Captain Forehead and AK William Bloody, AKA the Gunn Squad, and so much more) one last time as they discuss the Angel Season 5 episode (and series finale) "Not Fade Away," a banger of a series finale and the perfect example of how you stick the damn landing. LOCATE YOUR HOSTS ON THE INTERNET LaToya Ferguson: @lafergs Read An Encyclopedia of Women's Wrestling Morgan Lutich: @lorganmutich Listen to LaToya, Morgan, and their pal Jill discuss The Vampire Diaries on The AMPire Diaries podcast! ANGEL ON TOP Angel On Top: @angelontopcast on twitter and instagram Support Angel On Top on Patreon: angelontop.com Learn more about us and our team at bufferingthevampireslayer.com Theme Song + Jingles: Jenny Owen Youngs +++ Producers: LaToya Ferguson, Morgan Lutich, and Kristin Russo Editor: Kristin Russo Logo: Kristine Thune

Now this? This is what we're talking about. This? This is the good stuff. And DADDY? He is officially home. (No, not Joss. Eww.) So join your "intriguingly unstable" hosts LaToya Ferguson and Morgan Lutich (AKA Captain Forehead and AK William Bloody, AKA the Gunn Squad, and so much more) one last time as they discuss the Angel Season 5 episode (and series finale) "Not Fade Away," a banger of a series finale and the perfect example of how you stick the damn landing.LOCATE YOUR HOSTS ON THE INTERNETLaToya Ferguson: @lafergs Read An Encyclopedia of Women's WrestlingMorgan Lutich: @lorganmutichListen to LaToya, Morgan, and their pal Jill discuss The Vampire Diaries on The AMPire Diaries podcast!ANGEL ON TOPAngel On Top: @angelontopcast on twitter and instagramSupport Angel On Top on Patreon: angelontop.comLearn more about us and our team at bufferingthevampireslayer.comTheme Song + Jingles: Jenny Owen Youngs+++Producers: LaToya Ferguson, Morgan Lutich, and Kristin RussoEditor: Kristin RussoLogo: Kristine Thune

In a shocking turn of events, Teddi is asking for an olive branch from Heather. Teddi and Cynthia unpack the Jennifer d*ck pic drama… do you believe her? Plus, Cynthia shares what she got from a random man at a gas station. Eww!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Eww! Use the popcorn scoop, people! Cardi B tweeted a picture of the lunch she packed for her 4-year-old and we want to be adopted. A teenager wears all her clothes to avoid a baggage fee; her plan backfired. We tried the new Max streaming service and love! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Eww! Use the popcorn scoop, people! Cardi B tweeted a picture of the lunch she packed for her 4-year-old and we want to be adopted. A teenager wears all her clothes to avoid a baggage fee; her plan backfired. We tried the new Max streaming service and love! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices