Here I am, innocently watching my Yahoo!LAUNCHcastTM video player, wondering why my "personalized" video station insists on airing videos by Akon. You don't know me at all, Yahoo. You just don't love me like Tivo does.
This new song, which is eloquently titled "Sorry, Blame it on Me" begins innocently enough, at least he's not crooning about all the Beeyootiful Girls who will break his heart. Oh, look, it's a nice letter he wrote to his momma telling her he loves her. That's sweet.
And it's signed "You're son, Akon"
Oh, sorry, that was just my head exploding all over your screen. Blame it all on me. The mess, I mean. I take no responsibility for the fact that Akon, his agent, his producer, his mother, and his video girlfriend with the cute Vera Bradley bag all failed fourth grade English.
And I just watched the beginning three more time just to make sure. It says "you're".
Someone please kill me. Preferably not by this method, though. (See THAT'S why I have a mortal fear of Arizona. If the producers of Mrs. America had only thought to consult me, I would have told them that this was an accident waiting to happen. I hope they're shaking out the sheets for scorpions.
I mean, I hope there shaking out they're sheets. Sorry, blame it all on me.)
Happy Labor Day, internet. Here's to hoping you're not assaulted by any offensive grammar.