HELLO.

So fucking sick and tired of these anecdote-toting, self-appointed intellectuals so juiced on ego that they can’t shut the fuck up for half a second and let me eat some cheese dip and fart around in the living room. Save it for the internet, dude. 

Yeesh. 

propertyofzack:

You Blew It! released their great new album via Topshelf Records a few weeks ago, and PropertyOfZack is now very happy to be doing a Track-By-Track feature with the band to take fans behind the meaning of the songs on their record.  Check out what the band had to say about the songs on Grow Up, Dude below!

Grow Up, Dude
This song has like 4 lyrics. They’re pretty self-explanatory. Also artsy. Way, way artsy. RESPECT ME AS AN ARTIST YOU GUYS.

Pinball House
The lyrics to this song were actually written by our old bassist, Marc Ispass. He was on a trip through Tennessee with an old friend, but after he had to leave the band, we kind of changed the lyrics to reflect our feelings about going on tour. The title comes from the name of a house we played in Virginia Beach, VA on our second tour. It was the first time we ever saw a good physical reaction from a crowd. 

The One With David
This song was written after a pretty long, frustrating back-and-forth between “the muse” and I. We met at her apartment to go to lunch, but then we more or less ended up sitting in her room and pointing fingers at each other. The next couple days were spent going back and forth between blaming myself and then subsequently blaming her for everything that had happened. I’d take different routes to class and neglect entire sections of campus that I had seen her at. Man, I’ve been to the bookstore like twice in the past year and a half, and I have a free coffee coupon for it. It’s terrible. 

Terry v. Tori
This song is one of our favorite stories to tell, I think, but you’ve got to know a couple things about us first. Red beard and all, Tim is the most Irish human on the face of the Earth. His birthday is even on St. Patrick’s Day. It’s ridiculous. Him and I also live in a house called The Buffalo, named after Terry, a gigantic fake buffalo head that we keep mounted in the living room. On his birthday in 2011, we threw a pretty nutty party at our place. Our friends showed up with their friends, who showed up with their friends, who showed up with their friends. By that second or third degree, you’re dealing with total strangers, but they’re drinking your beer so like, that means they’re friends or something. I don’t know. I also feel like it should be noted that I’m a total square and think parties generally suck, so I spent the entire night a sober dad. Around 1am, I was sitting outside with Tim talking about nothing, when a friend of a friend of a friend stormed out of the house. I caught the door and walked inside to Terry lying on the floor. Tim and I mounted him back on the wall, and the party pretty much dispersed. The next morning, we come to find out that friend of a friend of a friend is named Tori, so I put some words about the incident over a song we had written. I was real mad.

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I wrote some words about some words that I wrote.