Thriller: Indian Style

I saw this about 2 years ago initially, but it is one of the greatest things you will ever watch. I figure since the MJ version of "Thriller" gets just a *tad* overdone this time of year but you can't have Halloween without it, I decided to switch it up and go Indian-style:

Yet another indication that I am WAY too easily amused >_<

Happy Halloween! Go easy on the witches brew or potion or whatever it is that you end up imbibing tonight. Last time I checked, puke shouldn't ever be a part of your costume ;)

The Single Guy @ Hello, Beautiful

Breaking News...

Starting today Write For Freedom will be syndicating a weekly blog via Hello, Beautiful. It's a bit of a departure from the usual content that I generate here, but when Kevin Clark asked me to cross post his writing I figured it'd be good to break up the monotony of all the music-related randomness that's kind of my thing in this here blog o' mine. Under the label "The Single Guy" he writes about his experiences as he navigates the dating scene in NYC, a far cry from his small-town upbringing in Kent, OH. Kevin and his way with words are a hot mess sometimes (in a good way of course), so his stories are pretty hilarious. It's worth a read - there's something everyone can relate to @ some point. So, without any further ado...

Black Magic Woman
By Kevin L. Clark October 27, 2008 4:51 pm

I believe that one of the most precious things on this Earth is a black woman. The way y’all walk, talk and even sass can light this Scorpio’s passionate flame and I can’t get enough of it. But, if I knew what type of spell this “black magic woman” would cast on me, then I would’ve never have went to Lotus that night…

Her name was Denay and she had to be the finest girl in the club that night. I called her “friend,” but everyone else had some more clever connotations for the Harlem dimepiece. “Ay, aye, aye, aaaayyyeee!” was cool for starters. “Shawty with the phat ass,” was another one. She never would answer to comments like that and on this particular night, she looked like she got dressed in sin with a dress that hugged her curves so right that I wanted to call her mama.

The fates must’ve been in the air because as they would have it, Denay thought that I looked pretty official myself. She stalked me through the crowd to ask about my shirt. I replied to let her know that it was just something to wear. She smiled… I did too… and a whole lot of drinks were consumed! We enjoyed the next few hours on the dance floor, navigating in our own personal world. But I must say, in trying not to offend any born-and-bred New Yawkers, this: “Y’all can’t dance…”

See. Told you he was a hot mess.

Read the rest here. Check out his other stories here.