Guilty pleasures

I discovered something new to prove that I have a really really short attention span. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Out of the 100 balls I hit at the driving range today, I messed up the first 10 or so (finding my rhythm), hit the next 30 decently (my hits were between sweet and okay) and totally fucked up the rest (utterly useless, complete loss of concentration). So it goes to show yet again, that I can only do things well for a very short period, and then I'll just lose focus and mess the whole thing up seconds later.

Alright then.

Continuing on with my "singer-songwriter" phase; after a short pause to indulge on some Placebo (which by the way, will take a bit of time to appreciate), I'm back with my next acoustic guitar-strumming, semi-artistic bloke. Except that he's not really semi-artistic.

As embarassing as it is, I have to admit that my current guilty pleasure is no other than Jason "Mr. A-Z" Mraz. Normally, anyone that gives himself a pathetic nickname like "Mr A-Z" is a bloody motherfucking wanker in my books, and deserve to rot in hell. But I'll let it slide this time. Just because the song Wordplay is so annoyingly happy.

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