Friday, April 9, 2010
TwiPop feat. Mrs. P!
That's right Episode Two is up and ready for your listening pleasure!
We discuss Waxward and Bree's story as well as why Motorola should probably pick up Twilight as a possible marketing opportunity.
We also pick on Poptarrts just a bit for her amazing accent, and even get Mrs. P from Twibite all hot and bothered.
(We will have it available for downloading through iTunes soon. Hold your britches.)
just over the horizon we can see a lonely silhouette. he ambles down the sidewalk singing and muttering to himself. and laughing. that usually follows the muttering. suddenly he stops. he looks at the blog on his right and back down at the piece of paper in his hand.
TwiSoup
this must be the place, but damned if it doesn't look deserted, the man thought. he looked around. what a strange place it was too. etched all over its walls were signs of life and vivation and mirth, but actually being here in this place, and encountering no one, the man quite wondered if he wasn't falling victim to some sort of elaborate ruse.
"Hello?", called the man. "Stoney? TwiNabler? Well, Nikki I know we've never actually met before. So, hello! Anybody here?" but the man heard back nothing but his own echoes.
well, i'm sure there's bound to be an epic party starting here anytime. everybody told me if you want to party, you need to go to TwiSoup. so i might as well hang around until it happens. first in line, baby!!!!
the weirdest thing. there seem to be all of these rooms here filled with ghosts from the past. i saw them down the hallway marked "archives". you see, in THOSE rooms you can see a moment. a snapshot of time. you can hear an entrie conversation, word for word the way it happened. it is an exact replica. but strangely enough, the people in the room are just phantoms now of their former selves.
at one time those words were connected to a living consciousness and were filled with vibrant life as the people commented. and came back and commented again, or not. the group had a mini party, a laugh, a whee of a time, until the living consciousness moved on to another soiree, leaving their words behind.