Post by fugees-online on Feb 15, 2006 10:02:03 GMT 1
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Okay, people have been asking about these, if I had them saved and what not, and at least four people have contacted me asking whether or not I still had them. I guess they must have made something of an impression...Meh.
Disclaimer: Philo's Phone Conversations are jokes. These are not real encounters/conversations/interviews with Lauryn, Ms. Hill, Ms. Boogie, L Boogie, Lauryn Hill, Lauryn N. Hill, Lauryn Noel Hill, or CRAZY BLOOD CLOT, or any of the names she has been none by. These are exaggerations, extreme exaggerations tempered with humor designed to
1. Exaggerate humorously the many eccentricacies of Lauryn Hill.
2. Poke fun at her fans who are sometimse obsessive, fickle, or downright rude.
by PhilosopherSelah (from Runboard)
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LAURYN AND VERIZON
Verizon Manager: Okay, guys, we'd like all of you to hold up the phone symbol, which we're going to use as the promotional symbol for the capaign.
Wyclef: Like this
Verizon Manager: Yes, exactly like that.
Pras: And we hold through the whole photo shoot
Verizon Manager: Only when we're snapping pictures, otherwise you don't have to do it.
(Lauryn has four people adjusting her wig, and two sewing her specially made hobo/poorman-sheek outfit together, and is strumming her guitar)
Verizon Manager: Laur..
(One of Lauryn's people gives him the eye)
Verizon Manager: I mean Ms. Hill, do you want to try it.
(Edwin Marcelin, Lauryn's friend and confidant, walks out from the back of the room)
Edwin and Lauryn make eye contact
Edwin: She's not going to do it
Verizon Manager: Well that will ruin the whole campaign
(Edwin and Lauryn make eye contact again)
Edwin: She doesn't care. She prefers to just look fly, but too dope, you know black women are considered the mule of society, and that's a very toxic situation
Verizon Manager: She's not saying that you are.
Lauryn: He can interpret my eyes. Edwin and I are on a higher plane of nobility, as are all the people who get to call me Lauryn.
(Lauryn interrupts Edwin)
Lauryn: I wanna do a song for you (strums chords)
You ask me if I wanna hold your symbol up
N-igga hell no
You wanna try and comprimse me
N-igga hell no
My style is dope without you
so n-igga hell no
Let me be, I get out
n-igga hell no
n-gga hell no (hits high note and runs back down the scale)
Edwin: That was good Lauryn
Lauryn, ends song: N-igga, hell no.
(Lauryn puts down guitar)
Lauryn: I realize that in the past my immense penchant for superb verbage, my superfluosuly awesome brilliance, and my desire to express things without making them palatable to the masses, has stopped the commonplace commoditization of my words. I thought I could write a song about something complex, if what I was going through was not complex. Now, with my superior intellect, and the clear fact that I'm am ten times beyond the human species, a branch of God's Creation which I like to call Incarnate Dopeness, I've realized that my extra-exquisite, and unchallenged intellect protects what you threaten, captain to liutenant
Edwin: Bing
Lauryn: Even take cadets in. I've discovered you all are slow like mollasses, I triple bypass you, on a psychodelic road to Damascuss, you all trip, but I amass creme like Jackie Kennedy Onassis. Mohagony travels at the speed of sound, I span the mainstream but still estemmed under ground, my paramaters, you know.
Edwin: She raps up contaminants
Lauryn: You wanna thank me cuss my statements so prodigious, style so prestigious, I make sinners act religious. But despite this, I've realized, and come to the conclusion that I can make the environment toxic, by not making my desire palatable to you. So I've traded in the lines "I Get Out, Let Me Out" for "N-igga Hell No". I think that's more palatable. Five years ago I would have let that woman in the store touch me, and I would have held up that phone sign. Now
(picks up guitar)
Lauryn: N-igga hell no. Now take the picture.
(Everyone clueless)
Lauryn: I was ready to take the picture just then, and you didn't. Oh well, I'm going to the hotel. Clef, have them digitally put a picture of me in.
Okay, people have been asking about these, if I had them saved and what not, and at least four people have contacted me asking whether or not I still had them. I guess they must have made something of an impression...Meh.
Disclaimer: Philo's Phone Conversations are jokes. These are not real encounters/conversations/interviews with Lauryn, Ms. Hill, Ms. Boogie, L Boogie, Lauryn Hill, Lauryn N. Hill, Lauryn Noel Hill, or CRAZY BLOOD CLOT, or any of the names she has been none by. These are exaggerations, extreme exaggerations tempered with humor designed to
1. Exaggerate humorously the many eccentricacies of Lauryn Hill.
2. Poke fun at her fans who are sometimse obsessive, fickle, or downright rude.
by PhilosopherSelah (from Runboard)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
LAURYN AND VERIZON
Verizon Manager: Okay, guys, we'd like all of you to hold up the phone symbol, which we're going to use as the promotional symbol for the capaign.
Wyclef: Like this
Verizon Manager: Yes, exactly like that.
Pras: And we hold through the whole photo shoot
Verizon Manager: Only when we're snapping pictures, otherwise you don't have to do it.
(Lauryn has four people adjusting her wig, and two sewing her specially made hobo/poorman-sheek outfit together, and is strumming her guitar)
Verizon Manager: Laur..
(One of Lauryn's people gives him the eye)
Verizon Manager: I mean Ms. Hill, do you want to try it.
(Edwin Marcelin, Lauryn's friend and confidant, walks out from the back of the room)
Edwin and Lauryn make eye contact
Edwin: She's not going to do it
Verizon Manager: Well that will ruin the whole campaign
(Edwin and Lauryn make eye contact again)
Edwin: She doesn't care. She prefers to just look fly, but too dope, you know black women are considered the mule of society, and that's a very toxic situation
Verizon Manager: She's not saying that you are.
Lauryn: He can interpret my eyes. Edwin and I are on a higher plane of nobility, as are all the people who get to call me Lauryn.
(Lauryn interrupts Edwin)
Lauryn: I wanna do a song for you (strums chords)
You ask me if I wanna hold your symbol up
N-igga hell no
You wanna try and comprimse me
N-igga hell no
My style is dope without you
so n-igga hell no
Let me be, I get out
n-igga hell no
n-gga hell no (hits high note and runs back down the scale)
Edwin: That was good Lauryn
Lauryn, ends song: N-igga, hell no.
(Lauryn puts down guitar)
Lauryn: I realize that in the past my immense penchant for superb verbage, my superfluosuly awesome brilliance, and my desire to express things without making them palatable to the masses, has stopped the commonplace commoditization of my words. I thought I could write a song about something complex, if what I was going through was not complex. Now, with my superior intellect, and the clear fact that I'm am ten times beyond the human species, a branch of God's Creation which I like to call Incarnate Dopeness, I've realized that my extra-exquisite, and unchallenged intellect protects what you threaten, captain to liutenant
Edwin: Bing
Lauryn: Even take cadets in. I've discovered you all are slow like mollasses, I triple bypass you, on a psychodelic road to Damascuss, you all trip, but I amass creme like Jackie Kennedy Onassis. Mohagony travels at the speed of sound, I span the mainstream but still estemmed under ground, my paramaters, you know.
Edwin: She raps up contaminants
Lauryn: You wanna thank me cuss my statements so prodigious, style so prestigious, I make sinners act religious. But despite this, I've realized, and come to the conclusion that I can make the environment toxic, by not making my desire palatable to you. So I've traded in the lines "I Get Out, Let Me Out" for "N-igga Hell No". I think that's more palatable. Five years ago I would have let that woman in the store touch me, and I would have held up that phone sign. Now
(picks up guitar)
Lauryn: N-igga hell no. Now take the picture.
(Everyone clueless)
Lauryn: I was ready to take the picture just then, and you didn't. Oh well, I'm going to the hotel. Clef, have them digitally put a picture of me in.
