Well, where do I begin? The Phillies are going to the World Series, and apparently the best way to celebrate that is to go out on the streets of Philadelphia and go crazy. Cars and taxis were beeping, everyone on the streets was yelling, it was pure havoc and overwhelming joy. Everyone was happy, it was bliss. Then me and my friends decide to go to Drinkers and to really celebrate. We start off with a round of Miller High Life 40’s. That’s when everything started to go crazy. I had to buy cigarettes across the street at CVS and decided to get a bag of Twizzlers. Which prompted to a challenge between me and this girl in catching them in our mouths being thrown to us from across the bar. It was a big event in the bar and we had a small crowd watching. The next thing I know a friend of mine says he went into an alleyway to puke and puked on the side of the car and the dude came outside and saw him do it. So he ran away. Drinks kept pouring and the love in the room was at a max. Then with the help of my roommates we managed to get my car home and park near our house. That was only the night.
I woke up at 8:30 AM, apparently I had set an alarm for myself, but I don’t remember doing that. I don’t remember much about the late hours of the night, such as putting my whole face into a cold batch of stir fry and chonking it, or having my pants pulled down around my ankles. I had to go drop off my car at the shop to have my side view mirror fixed. So, I left the house early to go take care of business. I couldn’t find my car. Called my roommate twice, and I still couldn’t find it with his directions. Then I realized I must have parked it in this construction zone, and it’s a tow away zone. So, I called Philadelphia Parking Authority, and they didn’t have my car, but they knew who towed it. George Smith Towing. I got their number and called them. They had it, but they are located on 61st and Passyunk. Pretty far. So, I called the cab company, and had them send one to the corner of my block. I ran to the ATM to get cash out to pay the towing company and ran back home. The cab company called, and I had missed the cab. I got them to send another one. He finally came 5 minutes later and took me off to 61st Street. It was a $15 cab ride. I get dropped off at this rinky dink towing place with a window that was completely tinted. So that when you’re talking to the people you can’t see them or know what they’re doing. I come up to the window and describe my car, he says it’s going to cost $205, and they only take cash. I only had $180 on me. I ask if they have an ATM machine, they said it’s down the block at the Purple Orchard. I begin my 1/2 mile walk down 61st Street. I see a Hess station, so I stop there first, they say, “No ATM, go to Purple Orchard.” Across the street is the Purple Orchard, and it’s a gentleman’s club in a very seedy area of Philly and the entire building is all purple, of course. It’s about 9:30 AM, they’re not opened. But, I see behind them is a Fantasy Boutique place, and it’s a 24 hour porno shop. Sweet. I go in and they have an ATM, but the dude there won’t let me use it unless I buy something. Seriously? No problem. I buy a DVD with a real gross name and I head out down my 1/2 mile walk back to the impound lot. I pay the dude there, I get my car, and I drive all the way home. Now, I hadn’t called my parents to let them know I’m coming, because I’m stupid. I need my mom’s car to get back to Philly for work at 12:30. So, I don’t know if my mom’s keys are at the house. I run home, find the keys. Then drive back to the car place to drop off my car to be fixed. I then begin my walk to my house from the car place. It’s a little over a mile, but I realized if I can jump this fence I could make it there in half the time. Lucky me, I find two planks missing in the fence. I squeeze through and am in someone’s backyard. I run out of there and back to my house, pick up my car and then decide I’m not running late enough, how about a haircut. I get to the Hair Cuttery at about 11AM. As I wait to get my hair did, I realize that I’m still really hungover and I start feeling sick. The lady cuts my hair and many times I think to myself. I hope I don’t throw up all over the place. That won’t make for good times. I hold it in, and am out of there by 11:22ish. I get back in my mom’s car and drive back to Philly. I make it home at 11:45. I jump in the shower for 5 minutes, change, make myself a sandwich and jump back in the car to drive to work. I get to the garage and there’s like no spaces, I end up parking on the 11th floor roof. I finally get into work, and as I’m walking in the lobby I past 2 guys in Phillies gear. As we past the guy does a double take and tells his friend, “I think that’s the guy from last night catching the Twizzlers in his mouth.” BAM! Full circle.
This is my life folks, I don’t make this shit up. Love it or leave it.
“Not that I don’t feel like I’m part of the team, but when you get that nice celebration coming in the dugout and you’re getting your ass hammered by guys, there’s no better feeling than to have that done.”— Matt Stairs, after our victory last night, and apparently he likes getting his ass hammered by guys, from Philly.com
I’m sorry for not writing much recently. You see I’ve been all involved in the Phillies playoff thing. And it’s all I can think about. I don’t even really know why I’m typing this now. I should be worshipping in front of my Pat Burrell altar.
Yep, the Phillies are still in the playoffs and Pat Burrell is fuckin’ pissed. I was watching him closely last night (I always do). He had that mean look on his face and I’m pretty sure he was swallowing a lot of dip. He accidentally does that a lot, but he’ll be ok in the end. Phillies up 1-0 on the Dodgers in the NLCS? LOVE IT! Touch me, touch me, touch me. Cause I’m skanking up the floor.
"I’m the worst catcher ever, but I do love refried beans and sliders."
I bet you thought I was going to the Eagles next. Nope, Flyers home opening game is Saturday night. And I’m going! Oh, yeah. Can you feel it? Can you feel the Flyers? I looked into buying a #5 Bradon Coburn jersey. Fuckin’ $170. That’s a little high, little high. So, instead I’m going to paint one on my skin. Oh, and great news folks. Guess who is dropping the ceremonial first puck. Hockey legend, Sarah Palin. What the fuck? She is so stupid. You want to get booed? Drop the first puck at a Flyer’s game and have nothing to do with anything. That’s you Palin, I’m going to boo the shit out of you in my painted on Flyers jersey. And then hopefully pass out in my seat drunk or fight someone who looks weird.
Yep, this photo makes so much sense.
49ers? Jesus, if we don’t tromp all over them and fuck J.T. O’Sullivan’s ass until it bleeds, then something is wrong. I know the 49ers are better than the sorry season they had last year, but they are still pure shit. Piles and piles of shit. Prediction? 49ers - 3, Eagles - 314.
"Boop, boop, boop, I’m JT."
#4: Friday Night
Yeah, tonight is Friday. And as usual I get out at 9PM. Sweet! So, what is in store for me tonight? What will happen? All I know so far is I got a message via Facebook saying “Jager Bombs, BAM!” Which is weird, because I usually don’t do Jager Bombs due to the fact that they have a huge gay following now. But, I’ll do them every now and then just to get hammered. But, to suggest to do Jager Bombs on a random Friday night is a little odd. Oh, well perhaps it has something to do with me winning Fantasy Baseball and that I am still owed 8 bottles of liquor. Greatest bet ever. Winner of Fantasy Baseball gets a bottle of liquor from everyone who lost. I got my first one 2 days ago. Yukon Jack.
I’m guessing that is Yukon Jack.
#5: Playoff Beard
Close to being 2 weeks old and it is grizzly as hell. I look at myself in the mirror and I growl. Constantly. Look at that ol’ grizzly bear, he’s looking for the kill. LOOK OUT!
Today starts the Phillies run into the playoffs. BAM! Aren’t you excited? I am. We’ve come so far and traveled for so long to reach this point. And now we are here. Today’s game, 3PM? What the fuck? Fuck you scheduling. Who can watch a 3 o’clock game? Someone is trying to downplay the Phillies postseason run. But, I managed to get my hours switched around today to be out at 5PM. So, I should be able to catch the end of the game on TV. Sweet, kind of, not really, at least better than nothing.
Cole Hamels is going to diarrhea all over Yovani Gallardo and the Brew Crew. Tell Yovani to either head back to Mexico or finish trimming my hedges.
Pat Burrell left practice yesterday with a sore back, so I went over and gave him a rub down for about 4 hours. He’s good to go. Smile for us Pat.
Bruntballs and Matt Stairs made our playoff roster. Looks like we will definetly win the World Series now. BRUNTBALLS! STAIRS!
I’m growing a playoff beard. That is all. And get ready to rock.
Let me tell you a little story. Last night after coming home all sad and depressed from a sad, sad Eagles loss, I parked my car on Christian Street. I got out of my car to see a white cat with black spots eating from some plate that someone had placed outside for her. Now, usually when I see stray cats and I try to get them to come to me for petting or whatnot they run away and fast. Not this one, I called to her and she came right up to me, let me pet her and was rubbing her head against my legs and purring. I’m a sucker for friendly cats. I began walking down 18th Street and she followed me. In fact, she followed me right up to my door. Now, I don’t have cats, but I do have a bag of cat treats at our place (not sure why). So, when I went in, she followed and I gave her a ton of cat treats. She was in heaven. And then it happened.
I heard a rumble from up above. It sounded as if the landlord was awake. I called to him, to see the wonder I had found. He came downstairs, slowly, deliberately. He was all groggy eyed and full of pure evil. He looked at the cat, the cat looked at him. He began to speak. “Get that fuckin’ cat out of my house.” But, landlord, it’s a good cat, very friendly. She doesn’t bite, can’t she stay? “Get that fuckin’ cat out of my house.” But … “No, buts, you shithole, get that fuckin’ cat out of my house.” He went back up to his lair and shut the door forcefully. I sat back on the couch, I tried my hardest to hold back my tears. It was useless. Why did I have to give something back that I could love and care for? WHY? And then I heard it again from upstairs, “GET THAT FUCKIN’ CAT OUT OF MY HOUSE.” I opened the front door and threw some treats out there. She left. I shut the door and went to bed. I left my window open from my room, just in case. Just in case she would cry for me.
Life has its ups and downs, but some people just are so full of hate and anger with the world they don’t care about other’s feelings, or emotional levels. Love and kindness needs to be practiced more often, or the world just may forget how to do it.
“And then my landlord came downstairs, and with his violent angry eyes staring into my soul, he forced me to kick my new found cat back out onto the streets. These are indeed hard times.”— Hamish, in remembrance
Yeah, blow me. Sorry for no posts this week, but I will always guarantee you a Hamish update weekend post. So, here we go.
Welly, welly, welly, well. Up only one game on the Mets as we move into a 3 game series with the Nats. If we don’t win all these games, and we end up having to play a fuckin’ make-up game I’m gonna be pissed as shit. I can only promise you we will win Saturday with Jamie Moyer. Everything else is up in the air. But, if you believe with me, we will win all 3 and fight like champions in the playoffs. GO YOU FUCKIN’ PHILLIES, GO!
Well the Eagles continue to have huge game times. Sunday night versus Chicago. And I thought I was supposed to be a cubs fan for the rest of the season, I must say fuck you to Chicago once the Brew-Cubs game ends Sunday and try my best to penetrate the horrible Chicago Bears. The Bears are pure shit and Kyle Orton is a pile of strained bloody hemroid poo. Eagles defense will rape them and Eagles win 66-3.
"Look at me, I’m drunk and the quarterback for the Bears. I’m the man now, dog."
Going to see Weezer Saturday night with King Kong at the E-Center (refuse to call it whatever it is really called now, always, always E-Center). Going to be a shitfest of drunken Weezer watching and stealing hippie girl’s hemp purses. Good times to the sweet rhythms of the Weezer. “No weezin’ the juice”
#4: Fantasy Baseball/Football
Well, we only got 3 days left in Fantasy Baseball and it’s me vs. Barry in the finals. The winner to receive 9 bottles of alcohol and I’m currently up 7-2. This is getting me so freakin’ hyped. I want the win bad.
Also on football side of things, I’m also playing Barry. And we’re both a miserable 1-2. Should be a fun day of yelling at each other and then fighting each other in sumo gear. You’re my fantasy.
Seems like every Friday I need to post something about this upcoming weekend. And it’s only like that because weekends have been starting to kick some major ass. It’s been chock full of nuts and goodness. Let it get started.
#1: Friday Night Party Town
Tonight there is a huge bash for 6 combined celebrated birthdays. It’s got over 100 Facebook confirmed guests. I think that’s a lot, but it’s bullshit. Nobody really likes these 6, I know because I personally hate all of them. But, I will still go, because there’s been mention of free Miller High Life. And that’s like gold to me. Pure gold. Your name is pronounced Algar, right?
#2: Flag Football
Even though we got our chodes handed to us last weekend, I still look forward to playing some smash mouth flag football. It’s a reason to wake up Saturday morning, and God knows I need one. Now if I can only find someone who can sew my jersey back together …
#3: The Phillies
7 in a row? Sweeped the Brew-crew and the Braves? Jesus. I can’t handle this kind of streak. Let’s see if they can keep their dynamite power going through fishtown. I want to see Dan Uggla bleeding out of his rectum by the end of the next series. BLOOD OUT OF THE RECTUM!
#4: The Eagles
Oh, boy. A 4:15 game? That means a 10 hour tailgate! This could be dangerously awesome. A big grill filled with hot dogs and chocolate milk will be served. There will be beer. There will be corn hole. There will be a bunch of drunk dudes screaming obscenities at everyone. Exciting, exciting times.
Well, there’s a lot going on this weekend. And in my head it all comes together in one beautiful orgy of fun and excitement. But, I want you all to know that I practice in caution. There are a lot of ways a man can hurt himself in this world. Especially when alcohol, football and women come into play. So, I want everyone to be careful who will be joining me on any of my excursions this weekend. Because my balls are on the wall, and I’m ready for some MOTHERFUCKIN’ ACTION!
“Because days come and go, but my feelings for you are forever.”— Hamish, finally realizing what listening to WMMR at work does to him, he wakes up in the morning singing these horrible modern rock songs that he doesn’t even know. Shit WMMR, why you trying to get crazy with me man, don’t you know I’m loco?
You ever been sitting around and your alone and you are constantly turning around and to the sides because you think someone is there? I do that all the time. It’s not paranoia. There is someone there, and you better be fuckin’ careful man. Cause if you don’t keep turning around looking for him, he will know. Then he will attack, like a banshee. He will come at you with so much ass kick you won’t know if you just had a heart attack, a stroke, or you if you just gasmed in your pants. Things will get blurry and your eyes will tear up. Blood will rush out of your armpits, and your ears will squirt out brain fluid. Then just when you think all hope is loss and you are about to die, you look up and see this man:
Johan “Satan” Santana.
Believe in the Phillies, and hate the Mets folks. The Phillies are always more righteous, and the Mets are devil worshippers. Your only hope is that Jimmy “Christ” Rollins will slay Satan Santana with his over sized Rollins’ Dong™.
“I can’t take the kind of excitement from that MNF game last night. I shit my pants 3 times, peed twice, and lactated until my McNabb jersey curdled.”— Hamish, a lot of stuff comes out when we play Dallas, and I don’t really lactate
I had something very interesting to talk about and discuss, but I totally forgot what it was. Sucks for you. I’ll just talk about something random. How about the weekend?
So, at work our MRI scanner has been down since Tuesday evening, and I’ve been coming in and having to leave early. Which sounds great, but I wouldn’t get paid for those hours I don’t work. So, I’ve been forced to using vacation time and that sucks. I don’t have a lot of vacation time built up yet, and now I have less. Thanks a lot Siemens.
#2 Flag Football:
Looks like we will actually play this week after getting rained out last week. And I’m pumped. So pumped, it’s got me to shit my pants multiple times out of extreme pumpiness.
Do it. Do it. Like I say all the time, I will not give up on the Phillies. Especially not when Jamie Moyer’s pitching. I feel like he’s my Dad, and he’s doing it all for me. I want to hug him, I want him to tuck me in, I want him to tell me bedtime stories, and I want him to beat me when I do bad things. Oh, Jamie, take me away.
There’s been an overflow of slugs in our backyard. But, I don’t want you to be scared, I’ve been chucking them into the neighbor’s yards. It’s been about two a night, and I’m getting sick and tired of these fuckin’ slugs. They better watch out, I’m pissed.
They’re gonna kick the Cowboy’s ass. Cause the Cowboys suck, and yep, they suck.
“Me and Donovan we’d have Monday nights where I was the bartender or he was the bartender.”— T.O. apparently got crunked with McNabb a lot, when asked if he did the same with Romo, he laughed and said, “I’m afraid he might grab my nutsac, he’s a girl drink drunk.”
Last night after everyone went to bed, I went outside to smoke a cigarette and I saw the craziest shit I’ll probably ever get to see in the nature world. I saw two slugs having sex. Yes I did. I couldn’t help it but to just sit there and watch it in awe. It was disgusting and revolting, but at the same time it was beautiful. I caught them creating a mucous string and just circling around each other going down from a perch. Around and around, so sexually, so beautiful. Then at the end, I saw it. They both emitted this white object from their bodies, I thought they might be giving birth. It turns out that was their nasties. And I was the only one who got to see these two slugs have sex for me. This isn’t any kind of joke folks, I watched two slugs fuck for about 15 minutes. Slug fucking is beautiful and disgusting, just like Adam Eaton licking your asshole.
Well another weekend is upon us, so soon. And this one is big, bigger than shit. And I’m so excited my nipples could cut holes through human skulls. Seriously, I’ve been practicing on pigeons. I’ll start off light.
Yes, the glorious tradition of flag football season starts tomorrow for me & my team the Steamy Poo Pilers. I love getting out there and pushing giant out of shape guys around and then winding up with bruises all over my body. So sexy. Hopefully we will win and Skip will buy us all ice cream afterwards. Barry? Can you point us in the direction of the ice cream shoppe?
Yes, NFL season is upon us. And if last night’s game is any indication, this year is going to blow chunks. Ugh, that game sucked ass. Probably because I was rooting for Clinton Portis the whole time and could give 2 shits about the Giants and Eli Manning’s woes. Fuck him. I hope he trips and falls on his vagina and sucks his offense line up it. But, Sunday morning will be a glorious morning, with a 7AM tailgate at the Eagles lot, and a stomping of the Rams afterwards. I can’t wait to see Jon Runyan, Michigan, fist fuck the puny Ram’s assholes.
Yes, before Sunday morning comes Saturday night with a UFC card that looks and feels amazing. Liddell vs. Evans will be a blood bath. Then for some reason Rich Franklin will be shitting on deaf Matt Hamill. Poor guy. He can’t hear a lick and then Rich Franklin is going to pretend like the ref stopped the fight and then proceed to rip his nose off to make Hamill lose another sense. And as usual a bunch of men bumping uglies off of mesh shorts gets everyone real hot for action!
Yes, the Phillies have a 3 game series with the Mets. If they can pull gold from their assholes one more time and sweep the Mets here. BAM! We are tied a top the D-Squash ladder. Eradicator!
But seriously folks, how often does a weekend come around like this with so much promise and hope? Too bad tonight’s gonna suck. Some shitty band is going to play at some shitty bar and I’m forced to go with a bunch of fish assholes. Well, soup’s on!
So, it’s the first week of regular season football and you better be ready for some Eagles shit to fly into your mouth. I hope everyone else is feelin’ as funky as I am, all geared up for Eagles to kick some Ram ass. But, what can we expect this year? And who can we trust? This is why I’m here, and I did a little research for all of us to know which Eagle we should root for.
The number one key in trusting an Eagles’ cheerleader is her answer to the question: Pat’s or Geno’s. Ashley is the first to answer Pat’s (instead of the horribly shitty answer both, or the horribly gay answer of Geno’s). Also to note is her favorite Eagle pick of Tony Hunt, also a great fantasy football draft choice. Negatives is her love of Mariah Carey and she likes to crank her knuckles. Crank? I’m guessing she injects meth into her knuckles for fun, too much for me.
Dana has also correctly chose Pat’s as the cheesesteak of choice. But sadly that might be the only good thing about her besides that she likes Billie Jean by Jacko. Things to worry about: Well, she owns 153 pairs of shoes, and knows she owns exactly 153 pairs of shoes. Ok … And her first concert ever seen was Aaron Carter. Hmmm … And she uses the word “like” in every sentence. Uh oh … And her dream job would be to teaching disabled children. Wait. Stop. That’s her dream job? Shit Dana, you can go out there and teach them. It’s not that hard, you can make your dreams a reality. It’s not that hard to become a disabled child teacher. But, here you are flaunting your body with your 153 pairs of shoes. I hate you. But, you like Pat’s, so you can be trusted.
Jamie is also kind of scary looking and rather eat a Pat’s. She’s a snowboarder, which is cool, and she likes Evanescence, which is not cool. Besides that Jamie is all around awesome. She wants sushi as her last meal, her dog’s name is Halo, she was once a cranberry farmer, and she wants to go to Peru to study the enigma of the Nazca Lines. Also her major in college was kinesiology. Jamie blows my mind and I want her to come over tonight.
Janelle is a vegetarian, but chose Pat’s due to their cheese fries being better. That still counts. Trust me. She is a self proclaimed huge video game nerd and her first band seen was Steve Miller. Then she goes on and on about boring stuff and family shit. Ok, Janelle, we get it, your favorite Eagle is Westbrook and favorite place in Philly is the Art Museum. How original … (these dots represent I’m trailing off and beginning to drift into sleep).
Nikki is after my heart saying she wants a Pat’s, wiz with. Bam! Her favorite player? Jon Runyan, Michigan. Favorite food includes calamari and sushi. She has bad road rage and wants to kill people. One issue is the mentioning of the boyfriend. Yes, I know it’s great that he’s hardworking and kind. But people don’t want to read about this asshole, we want to read about your asshole.
Rachel likes Pat’s and she might be able to beat me up. Her ideal job would be being a spy with a hot jumpsuit and a matching motorcycle. Alright Rachel! Worst fear? “I’m fearless.” Rachel would kick a hole through a school. Last meal? Chicken fried steak, white gravy mash potatoes, green beans and a chocolate milkshake. Wow. Favorite song? Beyond the Sea by Frank Sinatra? Frank Sinatra? You dumb bastard, poor Bobby Darin, they even make a movie about him starring Kevin Spacey and no one knows who he is.
Well there you have it. 13 out of 38 Eagles cheerleaders that can be trusted and you can root for this year. Due to the fact that they all chose Pat’s cheesesteaks over Geno’s. And now I have to go do something less mind numbing for I have this overwhelming feeling like I need to go out and buy a bunch of pairs of shoes.
Let’s get one thing straight, right off the back, I’m not having sex. Not right now. Actually I’m at the computer now, typing away another shit storm of insanity. But, I’ve been intrigued by something I saw in a movie awhile ago. Now, I’m not sure what it’s called, probably a back bridge, but it looks like this:
It’s a move that only some people can perform and actually after challenging many of my friends I’ve only found one other guy who can perform it, unfortunately he is the one who had seizures yesterday from Camel Crush cigarettes, but that’s a different story all together. So, being a flexible human myself and able to perform a back bridge, I’ve wanted to go out there and perform the move I saw in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which is a back bridge, whilst someone rides you from above.
I have dubbed this the “Artemis,” after the Greek goddess of archery. Notice the bow like manner that the back bridge creates, and the woman is like the arrow. Get it?
Now I have yet to perform the Artemis for one of the reasons listed below:
I’ve been in a relationship with a 350 lb. girl who I can’t support her weight in that position.
I’m too drunk to remember to perform the Artemis.
It’s hard to get the full extension when you’re handcuffed to the bed.
I refuse to have sex until my wedding night.
I’m abstaining from sex for fear that my Johnson might fall off.
Now whatever the reason may be, I have yet to perform the Artemis. But, I want everyone who reads this blog (all 6.5 of you) to go out and spread the word of the Artemis. Tell your co-workers, tell your friends and family, tell homeless men on the street. Because if I can’t do it, I want everyone else out there to be having awesome sex.
“Warning to all: Camel’s new Crush cigarette can cause seizures.”—
- Hamish, really warning everyone, I saw it happen
For all who don’t know, Camel’s Crush cigarette is a regular camel cigarette with this blue ball in the filter. Whenever you want while smoking it you can squeeze and pop that blue ball. From then on you are smoking a menthol. I bought a pack out of curiosity. It’s insane and fun. But, again, it may give seizures, so be careful.
Look, I don’t want people complaining when I’m not writing blogs everyday. You shit heads. I have a lot going on in my life that I need to take care of, and all you want me to do is sit at home and write little stories about retarded shit, so you can possibly giggle at your work day. Fuck you Shit Heads. I’m not here for your entertainment. I’m not some trained monkey in a little suit dancing to the hits of polka’s past. So, calm down and relax. And I’m sorry you Shit Heads.
So, I hit random song on my EXTENSIVE iTunes playlist and I hit on a song called Tender Love by the Force MD’s, which has a massive 17 play count for a song I don’t really know. So, I’m going to write a little essay on it.
How can humans grasp the power of love? It is a question we all deal with in our lives, some more than others. When I think of 5 dudes wearing Soul Glo, I think of love. I’m not talking about love you have for your family, love for your favorite pet, or even love of your favorite sweater. I’m talking about wholesome, pure, tender love. Tender love is love so tender. And all you need to gain that love is a mink coat, gold chains, and a jheri curl. Once you get these 3 things together, you can have everything you can ever dream of. The world is your oyster, it’s up to you to open the oyster up and pull out that pearl necklace.
So, my play count on Con Te Partiro is up at around 25 now. I still don’t know most of the words, but I do have the basic scheme when it comes to pitch and tone and sound of it. I keep hearing it in my head over and over again. But, I am still worried about performing it at my recital. I’m not sure what people will think or if they will be impressed at all. Will my opera training pay off? Will anyone care about what I’m doing? And who is this man?
Is he singing, or has someone just entered his rectum?
So, I saw Step Brothers this weekend, and while it was a delightfully horrible movie I did pick up something from it that I can’t get out of my head. Will Ferrell sings an opera song in it and I recognized it and I thought it was beautiful. So, after a simple google search I found it and downloaded the Andrea Bocelli version. It’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I don’t think you people know what you’re missing out on. If you’re bored, go for it, Con Te Partiro by Andrea Bocelli. Get it, listen to it, and learn it. Because that’s what my small goal of this week is, is to listen to this song every waking second of this week and then memorize it and then sing it aloud during a recital of sorts. Perhaps put it on YouTube …
One day I hope to be that blind man, walking down a road that I have no idea where it is and then start singing opera for all to hear, all to hear …
“One day my father just said, “Goddamn it, you’re seventeen, stop being a fucking dinosaur and get a job!”— Dr. Robert Doback (Richard Jenkins), in Step Brothers, and also a very important lesson for all of us to learn from and grow …
No matter what I do or where I go, there’s always a fuckin’ person who thinks they’re better than me. And this week it’s the cosmonauts. Those assholes. I mean seriously, so what if you went into outer space. What’s so great about outer space? The chance of dying? Weightlessness? The horrible freeze dried food? Peeing in weird places? Well guess what I got all those same sensations two weeks ago at the Wildwood Boardwalk, and I don’t think I’m the shit of the shants. Fuck cosmonauts and their bullshit lifestyles.
“I wouldn’t live with you if the world was flooded with piss and you lived in a tree.”— Julie Buckman (Martha Plimpton), in Parenthood, and how I feel about living with my roommates, and the world is flooded with piss and I’ve given up hope.