Let me fill you in on a little secret: we here at Belletristica Internationale do not fuck around. Our ostensibly slack lifestyle is in fact machine-like in intensity, and is fueled by coffee that is rumored to be delivered via one of those beer can-type helmets you see people wearing in the crowds of football games. We will not confirm that rumor, but nor will we deny it. There is nothing which may not be true here at B-ristica, except for the conjecture that we may have had sex last night---which is definitely not true. Has not, in fact, been true this side of ‘06.

What is unglaringly true, however, is that in the last four days, we have loaded thousands of songs onto our device. We have loaded and loaded. Would probably even go so far as to say we would fight to the death if someone tried to take it away from us. Would scrap like a wildcat. So do not even try. And besides, one would probably be filled with massive chagrin after an effort like that (if one were even to be successful). The superiority of our musical predilections is totally unrivaled. So towering, in fact, is our superiority in generally everything here at the B-ristica blogspot that we can hardly make eye contact with the average American. The iPod is now brimming with the greatest sub-cultural cornicopia even conceivable, and we are proud.



As further evidence of our awesomeness, we would also like to note that one Kristi Gustafson of the Times Union has contacted us for quotability in a feature article about 20 somethings. She has come to the right source, we have assured her. We are evocative of a Bartletts’. So quotable, in fact, that we have suggested being paid in burlap bags full or cash, or alternately by plugging the B-ristica blogspot in her article (or even, as a last resort, an endless supply of vegan dip). The reply, it could be said, was less than receptive. We shall see in the coming days how she doubts her decision to alienate us. We shall see.