<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:42:02.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE CLAYTONIAN POST</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-5401657001927215298</id><published>2009-04-13T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T14:01:04.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Brothers Gotta Work: Part One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SeOenZbFxXI/AAAAAAAAAB4/GOXQUNgOQjE/s1600-h/goop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 243px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SeOenZbFxXI/AAAAAAAAAB4/GOXQUNgOQjE/s320/goop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324273584158655858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contrary to popular belief, I am not a billionaire. Yet.&lt;br /&gt;Sure, I  released a pretty successful &lt;a href="http://www.melodic.net/reviewsOne.asp?revnr=6922" target="_blank"&gt;album&lt;/a&gt; and I've toured the country a few times over. But that don't mean I'm loaded. It costs money to record albums and definitley costs money to tour. The Denny's and IHOP bills alone are in the thousands. Not to mention my jewelry, sneaker, and tee shirt expenses. Bottom line is, sometimes I have to take a less than glamorous job to keep up with my tastes. That's right! I'm a hustler, baby. I've had jobs you wouldn't believe. So what if they didn't last long? I still had em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first job I ever had was at Hollywood Video. I had just turned 17 and was pretty desperate for cash. They hired me as a "video associate", but I think that's just the H-Wood term for front clerk. The job had some perks. I got to stock my own shelf of staff favorites and there was free candy! At least I think it was free. I pocketed those sour patch kids like it was nobodies business.  Plus, they let me wear as much jewelry as I wanted. That may not sound like a perk, but in 2006, I was all &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;about&lt;/span&gt; my jewelry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The job had lots of disadvantages though. I had to listen to the same 30 minute loop of commercials and songs over and over again. I mean, I would literally dream about that loop. That shit honestly haunted me! I still shudder every time I hear Gnarles Barkley's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Crazy&lt;/span&gt;. And then there was my mouth breathing, morbidly obese coworker. We'll call him "Tom". Tom was a borderline terrifying dude who loved telling me about the screenplay he was writing. You wanna know the plot of his screenplay? It was about a video store employee who murdered his co-workers and put their decapitated heads in the video return box. Yep, you heard that right. So between the insessant loop of songs and the fear of having my head chopped off, I only stayed there about three months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever. I took the money and ran. Next up was a job  at &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Entertainment Tonight, &lt;/span&gt; where I was put on Jon Benet Ramsey duty. What a joy it was looking at videos of John Mark Karr for hours! Anyway, that's another blog for another time. Don't worry. I've just begun. I have plenty of  work-related horror stories to share.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-5401657001927215298?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/5401657001927215298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/04/brothers-gotta-work-part-one.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/5401657001927215298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/5401657001927215298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/04/brothers-gotta-work-part-one.html' title='A Brothers Gotta Work: Part One'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SeOenZbFxXI/AAAAAAAAAB4/GOXQUNgOQjE/s72-c/goop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-1510857094371558469</id><published>2009-04-01T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T14:43:17.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I HATE BARN OWLS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="width: 318px; height: 318px;" src="http://www.youraffordablegifts.com/townsquare/images/37011.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly thought I knew what owls were. And frankly, I had no problem with them. I mean, who doesn't love those plastic owls people use to scare crows away? Those things are great! The Owl from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Winnie the Pooh?&lt;/span&gt; Darling. And since I haven't finished (or started) college yet, I've always had great respect for owls and their reputation for wearing graduation caps. I mean, they're basically the valedictorians of the animal kingdom. Oh, I totally forgot about the Tootsie Pop Owl! He was awesome. Okay, maybe he was a little smug. But I could deal with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I can not deal with are these disgusting monsters. WARNING! THIS IS BEYOND DISTURBING. Click &lt;a href="http://www.ihasaids.com/upload/data/1238441335.gif" target="new"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt; if you dare.  I. Have. No. Words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry if you just burped up lunch. That shit scared me too. You can't create creepiness like that.  If there's a Hell, that place is surely filled to the brim(stone) with barn owls and guinea pigs. Don't get me started on guinea pigs. That's another blog for another time. I can only deal with one of Satan's minions at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, doesn't the first pic look more like a Furbie than an owl? If those owls had any sense, that's the direction they'd be aesthetically heading. I don't know whose in charge of evolution, but start taking notes. From Me. Now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-1510857094371558469?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/1510857094371558469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-hate-barn-owls.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/1510857094371558469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/1510857094371558469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-hate-barn-owls.html' title='I HATE BARN OWLS!'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-3543701692741682679</id><published>2009-03-27T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T17:02:23.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IAN SLOANE IS THE SHIT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/Sc1oZoGN_BI/AAAAAAAAABg/Pd2ocOSZqm0/s1600-h/ian.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 264px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/Sc1oZoGN_BI/AAAAAAAAABg/Pd2ocOSZqm0/s320/ian.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318021524463942674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past Sunday, I had the distinct pleasure of attending the listening party for Ian Sloane's new album, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Let's Talk Tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;. Ian Sloane is a great friend of mine and an AMAZING artist. I swear to God, this kid is gonna be the next Timbaland. His album is an intoxicating mix of hip hop, rock, pop, electronica, and soul. I've honestly never heard anything like this record. Ian sings, raps, writes, produces, and plays nearly every instrument on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;L.T.T. &lt;/span&gt;The album features many collaborations, including two with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first song we worked on together was  his re-imagining of the Carlotta song, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Caroline&lt;/span&gt;. Now &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Caroline &lt;/span&gt;was one of the first songs Andrew and I ever wrote together for Carlotta. It was way back in 2005 when we were both school boys at Harvard Westlake. I remember going into one of the piano rooms during a free period and just laying that shit dooown. I love that song and it really means a lot to me. There is a real Caroline and she's just as amazing and insane as the song makes her out to be. Long story short, when I heard that Ian wanted to do his own version of it, I was preparing myself to not love it. Turns out, his version was slick as fuck and truly blew me away. It's not a cover and it's not a remix. It's a re-imagining. Okay, I know that sounded lamer that an Uggs-Crocs hybrid, but I don't know what else to call it. He asked me to sing on the song and I happily did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the success of that collaboration, we decided to do another song together. I went into his studio prepared for a long day of singing and writing. But it really didn't take that long. In five minutes, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You Need Me&lt;/span&gt; was born.  I seriousley just sang the first things that came into my head when I heard the beat. Turns out, it worked. I love all different types of music, so it's always nice to write for other artists in different genres. Ian was even nice enough to leave in my vocals in the chorus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, but I feel like this song is gonna go places. It just sounds so radio-ready. I can hear it on T.V. I can hear it in video games. I can hear this shit in movies. Maybe my dream of having my music in a chick flick fashion montage will finally come true! In any case, give a listen. You can here &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You Need Me &lt;/span&gt;by clicking &lt;a href="http://www.carlottatheband.com/blog_media/YouNeedMe.mp3/" target="new"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; or by checking out Ian's &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/iansloane" target="new"&gt;Myspace&lt;/a&gt; page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/Sc1ogvHrLEI/AAAAAAAAABo/rCmOgktFyjc/s1600-h/ian2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 338px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/Sc1ogvHrLEI/AAAAAAAAABo/rCmOgktFyjc/s320/ian2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318021646608182338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-3543701692741682679?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/3543701692741682679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/ian-sloane-is-shit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/3543701692741682679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/3543701692741682679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/ian-sloane-is-shit.html' title='IAN SLOANE IS THE SHIT'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/Sc1oZoGN_BI/AAAAAAAAABg/Pd2ocOSZqm0/s72-c/ian.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-6872645247608711066</id><published>2009-03-23T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T22:07:07.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Warhol Was Wrong!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://blog.calaveracomics.com/uploaded_images/lg_JacksonM_web-775967.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In the future, everyone will have fifteen minutes of PRIVACY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, just saw &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Factory Girl&lt;/span&gt; on T.V. and all I can say is DAMN! Warhol was an A-hole! But I guess all artists have a little monster in them. I certainly do. But mine is more of an Elmo type monster.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-6872645247608711066?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/6872645247608711066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/warhol-was-wrong.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/6872645247608711066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/6872645247608711066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/warhol-was-wrong.html' title='Warhol Was Wrong!'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-4010218986652205634</id><published>2009-03-22T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T22:11:15.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If You Can't Achieve It, Weave It!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="width: 346px; height: 256px;" src="http://s5.tinypic.com/ja87zo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a strange fascination with weaves. I always have. I'm not entirely sure of the origin of this obsession, but I'm gonna blame it all on Ricki Lake. Feel free to blame &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; all &lt;/span&gt;of your problems on her. I certainly find it to be helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyweave, when I was a wee lad, I used to watch The Ricki Lake Show religiously. As a seven year old, I was all about Ricki. Jenny Jones and Sally Jesse were aight, but they had nothing on my girl. While I loved the boot camp episodes (You don't know me! You don't know me), I was UBB-sessed with the "Weave War" specials. I mean, I would literally tape that shit on VHS. After watching those episodes, I became desperate for my own weave. I begged my mom for one, but she just told to me to "wear a fun hat". Bitch Please. As if I'm gonna walk around the house in a Dr. Seuss raver atrocity. Okay, maybe I did. But come on, who didn't wear a tall felt hat at least once in the 90s? I just wanted to live in a world where motors and living doves were acceptable hair accessories. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people are turned off by the notion of wearing someone else's hair on their head. I think those people are missing the point. The idea that struggling third world women grow out their hair so that rich Americans can glue it to their scalps is part of what makes weaves so amazing! It's like a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Twilight Zone&lt;/span&gt; episode, but Real!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once read a coffee table book that claimed when the masses start to wear false hair, it signified the beginning of a societal decline. The author pointed to the Egyptian and Roman Empires as examples. With 2012 just around the corner, that seems about right. Everybody and their Nana is rocking a weave these days. Armageddon, Here We Come! You can blame Ricki, Britney, or any of the other weave pioneers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, my false hair dreams did eventually come true. I had a weave for about a month last year and it was just as bizarre as I had hoped. My hair was pretty short to begin with so I only extended it like 5 inches. Hey! Don't gimme that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bret Michaels: Rock of Love &lt;/span&gt;pity look. It was just a fun experiment. A fun experiment that left me with a dime sized bald spot next to my ear. Oh well. I guess it was worth it.  Look at that glorious weave blowing in the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="width: 392px; height: 261px;" src="http://www.bestmusiconcampus.com/_media/CA/UniversityofSouthern/Carlotta/image/WeAreCarlotta.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-4010218986652205634?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/4010218986652205634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/if-you-cant-achieve-it-weave-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/4010218986652205634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/4010218986652205634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/if-you-cant-achieve-it-weave-it.html' title='If You Can&apos;t Achieve It, Weave It!'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-7387563598673594860</id><published>2009-03-17T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T15:51:56.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Give Drew The Emmy Now!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="width: 305px; height: 433px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/00/Greygardens.jpg" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grey Gardens&lt;/span&gt; is one of my favorite movies of ALL time. In case you're unfamiliar with the 1975 documentary, lemme catch you up. It's basically the story of "Big Edie" and "Little Edie", the aunt and cousin of Jackie O. The movie follows the mother and daughter and their bizarre life at Grey Gardens, a dilapidated mansion in East Hampton. It's heartbreaking, hilarious, and shockingly human. You should seriously see it if you haven't. It's a classic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first heard that HBO was making a movie based on the doc, I had mixed feelings. The fact that they hired Drew Barrymore to play Little Edie only added to my confusion. Don't get me wrong. I love Drew. I mean, what's not to love? She has a lisp, was a cokehead at 12, and comes from the Valley. She's basically like every friend I've ever had. But could Drew pull off the role? Turns out, Hell to the Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just watched the trailer for HBO's  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Grey Gardens &lt;/span&gt;and was knocked the fuck sideways. Drew Barrymore IS little Edie. She even has the East Hampton accent down pat. That's a STAUNCH performance right there. Just give this bitch the Emmy now. Contest over. Fuck, I know this shit is on T.V., but give her an Oscar. I know it's just a trailer, but come on. This movie looks amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tW5ryhrzYC4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tW5ryhrzYC4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you liked that, you should see the real movie first. Here's one of the most famous clips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vWEeJbuF3bM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vWEeJbuF3bM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-7387563598673594860?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/7387563598673594860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/give-drew-emmy-now.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/7387563598673594860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/7387563598673594860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/give-drew-emmy-now.html' title='Give Drew The Emmy Now!!!'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-2610364798454087764</id><published>2009-03-16T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T00:42:55.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Personal Style Icons</title><content type='html'>I have strange taste. I always have. While my color blindness may account for some of my choices, a lot of my personal style comes from my influences. Here are some of the fashion icons that I look up to. Drum roll please. No drum set? Well come better prepared next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 339px; height: 254px;" src="http://www.talentwest.com/entertain/actors/images/BuddyHolly.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Of course there's the legendary Buddy Holly. I mean, come on. That look is still fresher than fresh 50 years later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 366px; height: 282px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_zGnH6HWaAi0/SaApEM3TO5I/AAAAAAAABUw/BwPfWcEmQbI/clueless01.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;As a child of the 90s, the looks of Cher Horowitz in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Clueless&lt;/span&gt; will always hold a special place in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://x1b.xanga.com/a9fc401152633183538430/z140583787.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Who else could pull off a red vest, polka dot shirt, and suspenders? Jack Pumpkinhead's style will always be classically strange. Plus his amazing body would put any model to shame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 249px; height: 363px;" src="http://demolisten.files.wordpress.com/2007/04/kurt-cobain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;No one pulled off the "I don't give a fuck" quite like Kurt. I do give a fuck, but it's good to look like you don't sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time I'm able to keep my influences in balance. Sometimes my brain tells me to do naughty things and I end up looking like homeless dude on Sesame Street. Exhibit A: The pic below from an early CARLOTTA show in 2006. It looks like my fashion influences puked all over me. Actually it looks I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;under &lt;/span&gt;the influence when I got dressed. Maybe I was? Junior year of high school was kinda fuzzy. In any case, I stand by it. I might just have to rock that look at our next show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/Sb8w_ynURgI/AAAAAAAAABY/6WCERfRL9G4/s1600-h/September06+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 351px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/Sb8w_ynURgI/AAAAAAAAABY/6WCERfRL9G4/s320/September06+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314019957797045762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-2610364798454087764?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/2610364798454087764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-personal-style-icons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/2610364798454087764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/2610364798454087764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-personal-style-icons.html' title='My Personal Style Icons'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/_zGnH6HWaAi0/SaApEM3TO5I/AAAAAAAABUw/BwPfWcEmQbI/s72-c/clueless01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-8084500307691955634</id><published>2009-03-16T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T22:43:53.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Colorblind! Jealous?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 372px; height: 366px;" src="http://images.wikio.com/images/p/a7e6/stevie-wonder-embarks-on-magical-summer-tour.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like 12% of all white males, I'm colorblind. Red Green color blind to be exact. When I tell people about my pigment challenges, they usually ask me a lot of dumb ass questions like "what color is the sky?" I'm not stupid. I know the sky is blue. I am a proud pre-school graduate and I was able to gather some great information in between juice box binges. Puh-Lease. The next question is usually: "So is everything in black and white?" Fuck no. I'm not living in some&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I Love Lucy&lt;/span&gt; universe. And thank God. That show always made me so nervous. I always wanted her stay out of trouble! And don't get me started on Fred. Jesus Christ! I hated Fred. What a downer. Okay. Rant over. Back to my gorgeous eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do see colors. I just don't see the colors most people do. I think that's actually pretty cool. I love the colors I see. Then again, they're all I've ever seen or known. Have their been some wardrobe malfunctions in my past? Absolutely. But I'm better now. I hardly ever wear pink and red together anymore. But I'm holding onto my brown and orange combos. I happen to like looking like a 1970s kitchen every now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My question is this: If red green colorblindness is pretty common (at least in dudes), who the fuck designed streetlights? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't gotten confused at an intersection or ten. Then again, it did take me 6 tries to get my license. But that's another story for another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you colorblind? Take this &lt;a href="http://www.toledo-bend.com/colorblind/Ishihara.asp" target="new"&gt;test&lt;/a&gt;. Or better yet, check out this image below. See a number in the circle? Cuz I sure as fuck don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 226px; height: 209px;" src="http://www.und.nodak.edu/dept/jcarmich/101lab/lab39/color1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-8084500307691955634?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/8084500307691955634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-colorbind-jealous.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8084500307691955634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8084500307691955634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-colorbind-jealous.html' title='I&apos;m Colorblind! Jealous?'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-9007886589047645470</id><published>2009-03-15T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:51:08.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drop Acid And Look At This Picture</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.toxel.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/erikjohansson01.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't have acid? Smoke a bowl then. Don't smoke? Well paint your nails (a few times over) in the smallest room in your house. That should do the trick. Seriously, Erik Johannson is an amazing artist. You should check out his other &lt;a href="http://www.toxel.com/inspiration/2009/03/13/photo-manipulations-by-erik-johansson/" target="new"&gt;stuff&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-9007886589047645470?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/9007886589047645470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/drop-acid-and-look-at-this-picture.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/9007886589047645470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/9007886589047645470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/drop-acid-and-look-at-this-picture.html' title='Drop Acid And Look At This Picture'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-6153088512023905083</id><published>2009-03-15T17:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T18:02:14.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Britney's Real Voice Y'all!</title><content type='html'>I'm sure many of you have already seen this now infamous Youtube video. But in case you haven't, lemme break it down for you. Back in 2001 (When terrorism and Britney were at their respective peaks), Miss Spears performed a live show in Vegas for HBO. Per usual, backing tracks were used to overpower her vocals. She actually doesn't lipsynch y'all. She really does sing along. They just make sure you can't hear her. It's one of those "if a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it" scenarios. Anyway, a couple years later, some bitter bitch decided to release all of Britney's actual audio and post that shit online. Some of her vocals are decent. Some are terrible. And some are just plain creepy. I always get goosebumps at the 1:30 mark when she sings "And now you're out of sight!" That's some &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Poltergeist shit right there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3Ak1cpi74RM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3Ak1cpi74RM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-6153088512023905083?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/6153088512023905083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/britneys-real-voice-yall.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/6153088512023905083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/6153088512023905083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/britneys-real-voice-yall.html' title='Britney&apos;s Real Voice Y&apos;all!'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-8980850146759702781</id><published>2009-03-15T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T10:59:53.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CHILDREN OF THE 90S, TIME TO GET WEEPY</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XnqeeBdGhh4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XnqeeBdGhh4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were born in the late 80s or early 90s, that clip should make you feel all gooey and sentimental inside. I know that's the case for me. If it doesn't, you must be too old, too young, or not have had cable as a child. All three of those are deal breakers for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW the 90s were sooooo cool and grungey that even freaking kids shows had melancholy Seattle theme songs. God I wish I was 7 again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-8980850146759702781?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/8980850146759702781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/children-of-90s-time-to-get-weepy.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8980850146759702781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8980850146759702781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/children-of-90s-time-to-get-weepy.html' title='CHILDREN OF THE 90S, TIME TO GET WEEPY'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-5550265530630011719</id><published>2009-03-14T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T01:31:32.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INTERVENTION: THE MUSICAL</title><content type='html'>No one seems to have any original ideas lately. It seems like all the studios and coorperations just want to rehash old ideas into new ones. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fast and Furious&lt;/span&gt; anyone?  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Melrose Place: The Next Generation? &lt;/span&gt;You know when &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Spiderman&lt;/span&gt; gets the greenlight to become a fucking musical, the bigwigs have officially run out of new ideas. But don't get me wrong. I'm not judgin'. Instead I want to to jump onto this sinking ship. And may I propose...... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;INTERVENTION: THE MUSICAL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm obsessed with&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; A&amp;amp;E's Intervention&lt;/span&gt;. In particular, I'm obsessed with the episode starring Christy, the meth addicted alcoholic stripper. In case you're un-familiar with the spectacle that IS Christy, watch this video below. If you can "handle her" (her words, not mine), congratulations! You're going to Hell. Don't sweat it though. I'll see you there.  I'll be the one chained to Andy Rooney at the 24 hour Pizza Bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/40Vn3cmaAnY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/40Vn3cmaAnY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you hear that? In the middle of her intervention, she asks why there isn't any "music up in this mother?" This woman is practically screaming to have her life made into a musical. Let's look at the stats. First of all, she's a stripper. You &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;that would guarantee some amazing musical numbers. Second of all, she's heartbreaking AND hilarious. A good musical should make you cry AND laugh. And thirdly, every other word out of her mouth deserves the songwriting treatment. Some of the quote inspired numbers could include....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I got what I wanted!"&lt;br /&gt;"When the devil possesses me, I love it"&lt;br /&gt;"I feel so sorry for you (I really do)"&lt;br /&gt;"All the movie stars are doing it!"&lt;br /&gt;"A positive plus a negative is I don't know"&lt;br /&gt;And the show stopper finale: "Oh my God! That's awesome dude!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4Udru3Nzd4I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4Udru3Nzd4I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-5550265530630011719?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/5550265530630011719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/intervention-musical.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/5550265530630011719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/5550265530630011719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/intervention-musical.html' title='INTERVENTION: THE MUSICAL'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-8558891352772372137</id><published>2009-03-14T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T16:03:11.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>P.I.M.P.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img267.imageshack.us/img267/7542/obamablltw6.gif"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-8558891352772372137?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/8558891352772372137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/pimp.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8558891352772372137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8558891352772372137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/pimp.html' title='P.I.M.P.'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-8692551160633758266</id><published>2009-03-14T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T14:42:17.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Janelle Monae: Andre 3000 With Tits</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This Bitch should be a superstar. I discovered Janelle Monae about 6 months ago while on tour. We were in the van and I was taking a C.D. out when the radio came on. Usually it's just static when we're on the road, but for some reason this voice came booming and nearly knocked me out. I quickly began writing down the lyrics into my blackberry so I could find out who it was. One google search later and I was hooked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janelle is so weird, so cool, so original, she should be HUGE. She's Andre 3000 with a touch of Amy Winehouse and Buddy Holly. Come on, thats quite a combo plate. She's signed to Bad Boy and gets played on BET sometimes, but MTV and pop radio has ignored her so far. I think she's the shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt; &lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LHgbzNHVg0c&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LHgbzNHVg0c&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-8692551160633758266?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/8692551160633758266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/janelle-monae-andre-3000-with-tits.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8692551160633758266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/8692551160633758266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/janelle-monae-andre-3000-with-tits.html' title='Janelle Monae: Andre 3000 With Tits'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-3680062935759820787</id><published>2009-03-14T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T14:12:39.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to go to there</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="width: 487px; height: 323px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3454/3350168500_47baa1bab0_o.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this pic online and I don't know if it's real or not. All I know is I wanna have a serious cuddle sesh with these Narnia lookin motherfuckers. You know they'd be so warm and cozy. Honestly, this pic really making me feel things inside. Warm things. Gooey things. Duncan Heinz things.&lt;br /&gt;Sidenote: I keep expecting to see Bjork gliding down the icy hill to join them. You just know those three are all friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-3680062935759820787?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/3680062935759820787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-is-christy.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/3680062935759820787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/3680062935759820787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-is-christy.html' title='I want to go to there'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-6816268842272967186</id><published>2009-03-14T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T14:11:49.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seperated At Birth</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="width: 181px; height: 244px;" src="http://storage.infdaily.com/INFphoto_925259_copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="width: 188px; height: 245px;" src="http://www.geocities.com/mjgallery_thrillavideos/WeAreTheWorld01.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me or is Rihanna slowly morphing into Michael Jackson circa &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We Are The World&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Wet jerry curl? Check. "Don't look at me" shades? Check. Shoulder pads? Check.&lt;br /&gt;I totally support this transformation btw.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-6816268842272967186?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/6816268842272967186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/seperated-at-birth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/6816268842272967186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/6816268842272967186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/seperated-at-birth.html' title='Seperated At Birth'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641931340320713461.post-1132744204025276078</id><published>2009-03-14T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T13:24:23.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to my blog! Now take off your fucking shoes!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.carlottatheband.com/Jan09Pics/clay.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh my dearies,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Clayton.  Just Clayton. I'm trying to go with the one name thing (A la Madonna or Tigger), but unfortunately everyone knows my last name already. Ugghh. Bitches can be so nosey. It's not that I don't like my last name. It's aight. It's just that it sounds a lot like a famous American Idol contestant who I'd rather not be compared to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm 20 years old and I'm in a band called CARLOTTA. We released our first album, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Out of Love&lt;/span&gt;, last year and have been touring the country to promote it ever since. We've gotten to open up for such bands as Filter, The Ting Tings, Saving Abel, Meriwether and Blake Lewis. Basically I love my job. It might not make me millions at the moment, but I get to do what I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://www.carlottatheband.com/images_blog/TrainRainsmall.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're currently working on our follow up album back home here in L.A.  So basically my days consist of writing songs, recording demos, and watching as much daytime T.V. as my brain can handle. Seriously, my skull is filled with so much useless information, it's staggering. I don't know half of my friend's last names. But I could tell you the ABC fall lineup from 1999 without any problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help it. I love music. I love television. I love moving picture shows. I love all things pop culture. And I believe that it is my duty (haha...funny word) to share my useless information with the world. I already have another blog, &lt;a href="http://carlottatheband.com/" target="new"&gt;CarlottaTheBand.com&lt;/a&gt;, but that's more of the official band blog. I'll still update that one all the time. But this is my shit talk blog.  This blog is all about freedom. The freedom to write about whatever I want. I've given myself full carte blanche here and I think it's gonna be a bumpy ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5641931340320713461-1132744204025276078?l=claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/feeds/1132744204025276078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/welcome-to-my-blog-now-take-off-your.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/1132744204025276078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5641931340320713461/posts/default/1132744204025276078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://claytoncarlotta.blogspot.com/2009/03/welcome-to-my-blog-now-take-off-your.html' title='Welcome to my blog! Now take off your fucking shoes!!!'/><author><name>CLAYTON</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00604046503228951204</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sKBvJOYSmLs/SbwMukD77gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Mdo-5bNZ2Ds/S220/_MG_2462.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
