[personal profile] hes
1,600+ songs into the folders... so, anyone/everyone can do this here meme with all the songs here: http://www.sendspace.com/folder/gc6d4s

My Life On the Crazy Train Sucks (So What) - Dan Mei & Marc Johnce (Kelly Clarkson vs. Pink vs. Ozzy Osbourne vs. Daft Punk ) - for [livejournal.com profile] punky_96

XXVIII. 203 words

The first rule of dealing with the paparazzi and gossip-mongers was to show no emotion and answer no questions. All further actions would always be derived from that all important rule. Saying 'no comment' was already two words too many for the situation. A good pair of sunglasses, a well-timed open door, and a quick pace would keep any opportunity for questions (shouted or not) to a minimum. This was not to say that one could easily learn to ignore the bright flash bulbs that would light up the evening sky; or find the best way to discourage impromptu photography by never presenting a valuable three-quarter positioning without also seeing one of her assistants by her side.

The second rule was to never let them see you react. A bland and placid expression kept the actual comments to a minimum - no opinion rendered on whether the frown or fit of pique was directed at some socialite that might have been within camera range. The fact that Miranda Priestly was one of the most powerful women in fashion and publishing represented a much greater threat to any publication that might have thought to print any candid photos than the actual threat of lawsuits themselves.

Downtown Murder - DJ Clive$ter (Petula Clark - Downtown vs. Sophie Ellis Bextor - Murder On The Dancefloor) - for [livejournal.com profile] punky_96 - a prequel to 2.26

The video for the mashup: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLZi52Fwd7Q

XXIX. 335 words

It had been more than a few years since Andrea had last claimed a downtown address, she'd never forgotten the safety lessons she had learned then -- to always carry her cellular phone, spare keys, some ID, and a bit of money. All items would serve some use if she was to be caught unable to get back to her flat for any reason. Even though it was almost second nature for her to pick up her pack with all of these things, there were the occasional efforts where her phone had no bars and no one could hear her now, or her emergency fifty was really a heavy collection of coins, or her ID was enough to get her into a bar, but it was not enough to get out of a holding cell.

It wasn't often that she would decide to take the larger running loop but there was a certain allure to seeing the changing foliage of New York City through the crisp colours of Central Park. It was not until she had fished her phone from its pocket that she realized that her own reminder to recharge her gadgets had fallen to the wayside much to her detriment this morning. An army of technicians and other people would not help to find a signal when there was no battery at all.

This sudden storm was unexpected, and Andrea wondered if that chattering voice that she could hear echoing off the brick would be willing to lend their phone for a quick call. It would not hurt to ask though; a "no" was better than not trying at all. Although she did try to suppress her amusement at the grumbling that continued long after learning that Roy was already on his way to pick up Cassidy, she was less successful in hiding the surprise at seeing that signature hairstyle as she peered past the open door, and even less so when offered a ride back to her apartment since the rain had not abated.

I want you back (chew fu big room fix) - Jackson Five - for [livejournal.com profile] unfortunateggs

XXX. 188 words

It was true that you could never step twice in the same river, nor could going home ever be the same place that your heart remembered. Yet, even what the mind clearly knew to be an illogical desire did not mean that the heart yearned any less. It was trite to think about letting things go in hope that they would return, yet how else could you describe her leaving? It was untenable to have it described as the abandonment in Paris, even if it felt worse than reading the facsimiles the first time.

And so, she became the name never mentioned, and Paris was a black hole of a memory at the archives of Runway. Everyone spoke of the autumn or French presentations but Paris had become a forbidden word. That was a foolishness I ignored for several months until Nigel 'slipped' and mentioned the need to plan for the next round of shows. I am still amused at the gaping shock of Emily (and the blank look from the latest 'Emily') but perhaps the maudlin lyric of time heals everything had served its purpose well enough.
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