On the day of the eve of what could be a historic night before tomorrow, I have a few thoughts and ramblings to share.
1. I still believe in Baseball Jesus. As much now as ever before. He has been my beacon of hope since game 1 of the yanks series when He showed me that it's about the team, and not just Schilling. (Schilling getting creamed game 1 was my fault; I was pulling for him, not the team. I have since corrected that, obviously.)
2. You can grow to love a new hat. No, she's not like my first, but she's 3-0, and she's mine.
3. I feel badly for St. Louis fans, especially Abbypilot and New Character. No, I am being smug at all; my statement has NOTHING to do with tonight. Rather, it's a display of sadness that Cardinals fans haven't to this point gotten what they deserve; you guys won 105 games, and went 6-0 in the postseason before the idiot bus stopped in your stadium. I really am sorry for you fans. I still hope you lose, but I feel for you.
4. Tonight, there is to be a lunar eclipse that is reportedly going to turn the moon red for a spell. We HAVE to win tonight; the world is with us, hell, even the moon is looking out for us.
5. It is 18 years ago today that the ball passed through the legs. Like we've said before, let's get all the friggin' shackles off in one year. And hopefully on the same day.
6. I love my friends, I love my life. But for tonight, there is nowhere on God's green earth I would rather be than at Abbotts, sitting with K, Rosco, The Silver FOx, Heather, Chuck, Magnum P.E.I., Chef Mike, Sonny, Siobhan, Snuggles, Cass, Jim, my Bro, Kirk, and countless Sox fans drinking the best beer $2.25 can buy, and waiting for that final pitch, that last moment, the ending SNAP of the ball hitting the glove (oh, by the way I am convinced the World Series this year will end with a K. Don't ask why or who, but I believe.) I miss you guys, never more so than now. But I hold my head high, and prepare to celebrate with Johnny, Proctor, SoCo, Lipstick Mike, the Bertrands, K-Swick, Abbypilot, the Euros, Josh the mosh, BDB, Ronan, Timmy, Heather, D&Z, and myriad people that are backing the Sox largely because I am. Thanks, guys.
7. Weird fact in case you missed it: The Celtics won their first championship against St. Louis (1957); the Bruins broke a 41-year Stanley Cup drought against St. Louis (1970); and the Patriots won their first Super Bowl against St. Louis (2002).
8. I hope they win it for my parents. My dad gets SO pissed at them for all their foibles. My mom gets pissed because the Sox take away from the Patriots news. Enjoy, Mom & Dad.
9. Fuck the Yankees.
10. I propose nicknaming A-Rod and Jeter "Slappy" and "Short-Rod." More fitting, I think.
11. God, I hope we re-sign Varitek.
12. No matter what happens tonight, the Red Sox have earned every one of my tears, laughs, vomit sprees, and clenched fists. Great season guys, thanks. Now go kick some ass.
13. I'm running out of reasons now to leave work early and get this party started....
You know what?
Bye.
(My predicition: Sox 7-Cardinals 3)
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Only a few hours more...
Sigh.
There is a delicate balance of power, influence, karma, and luck floating out there. Sometimes you are fortunate enough to have one or more of these elements swing in your favor. Other times, not so much as they move away from you. Ultimately, I believe, you break pretty much even, like in chance. For the brave and stupid, there are times where you try to evoke an element, or even (gulp) several. Brave and stupid indeed.
So, here I go at it. As you may recall, my precious BoSox hat was stolen by a cute Serbian chick. She even convinced me she had lost it. While I sat there, mumbling and almost weeping (the damn hat and I go back 10 years), it was divulged to me the hat is fine, resting comfortably and in good spirits while this ordeal perserveres. My tears of suffering turned to tears of happiness as I envisioned the streets of Annapolis running red with her blood. As I lept into action, I halted; the Sox are 4-0 with the hat in her possession. I can't break that. So, I have remained quiet, in the hopes the hat will stay exactly where it is. But I can't NOT wear anything Sox. That's just wrong. And my jersey has some weird vibes coming off it.
So I did the unthinkable. I went on the element-evoking offensive.
I bought a new hat.
It's cool. It's fitted, dark blue with a blue and white "B" on the front, and blue and white socks on the back. It similar to my old one, but not exact. There can only ever be one favorite hat in one's life.
I know it is a ballsy move, but I'll have you know I consulted with another member of Red Sox Nation. Thanks, Silver Fox, for giving me the go-ahead.
I've also changed my regimen. You may recall it was Dokken pre-game, no hat, and Raspberry Wheat. Well, I figure I have no right expecting more than the greatest comeback in sports history from that combination, so I changed it. And I'm kicking it up a notch by going alta-schula.
D.L.R.-era Van Halen pre-game, new hat with dark, angry colors, and bourbon (to be relieved only after having a sufficient amount. And then, the only acceptable substitute is Sox Nation's most stalwart ally, High Life.
Yeah, it's going to be messy, and some may not survive. But I'm ready to do what it takes.
I am the ruler of these nether worlds
The underground
On every wall and place my fearsome name is heard
Look around, whoa yeah
Nobody rules these streets at night like me,
nobody
The atomic punk.
Let's kick ass, boys.
Foxxe, man your positions. It's on.
World Fuckin' Serious.
There is a delicate balance of power, influence, karma, and luck floating out there. Sometimes you are fortunate enough to have one or more of these elements swing in your favor. Other times, not so much as they move away from you. Ultimately, I believe, you break pretty much even, like in chance. For the brave and stupid, there are times where you try to evoke an element, or even (gulp) several. Brave and stupid indeed.
So, here I go at it. As you may recall, my precious BoSox hat was stolen by a cute Serbian chick. She even convinced me she had lost it. While I sat there, mumbling and almost weeping (the damn hat and I go back 10 years), it was divulged to me the hat is fine, resting comfortably and in good spirits while this ordeal perserveres. My tears of suffering turned to tears of happiness as I envisioned the streets of Annapolis running red with her blood. As I lept into action, I halted; the Sox are 4-0 with the hat in her possession. I can't break that. So, I have remained quiet, in the hopes the hat will stay exactly where it is. But I can't NOT wear anything Sox. That's just wrong. And my jersey has some weird vibes coming off it.
So I did the unthinkable. I went on the element-evoking offensive.
I bought a new hat.
It's cool. It's fitted, dark blue with a blue and white "B" on the front, and blue and white socks on the back. It similar to my old one, but not exact. There can only ever be one favorite hat in one's life.
I know it is a ballsy move, but I'll have you know I consulted with another member of Red Sox Nation. Thanks, Silver Fox, for giving me the go-ahead.
I've also changed my regimen. You may recall it was Dokken pre-game, no hat, and Raspberry Wheat. Well, I figure I have no right expecting more than the greatest comeback in sports history from that combination, so I changed it. And I'm kicking it up a notch by going alta-schula.
D.L.R.-era Van Halen pre-game, new hat with dark, angry colors, and bourbon (to be relieved only after having a sufficient amount. And then, the only acceptable substitute is Sox Nation's most stalwart ally, High Life.
Yeah, it's going to be messy, and some may not survive. But I'm ready to do what it takes.
I am the ruler of these nether worlds
The underground
On every wall and place my fearsome name is heard
Look around, whoa yeah
Nobody rules these streets at night like me,
nobody
The atomic punk.
Let's kick ass, boys.
Foxxe, man your positions. It's on.
World Fuckin' Serious.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Baseball, Jesus!
The aftermath.
Sheesh, it's amazing. The World Series, for me, cannot possibly top what we've just been through. And yet, three days from now we enter the breach again.
Some random thoughts...
1. I can't decide who I would rather see in the WS. Houston has Clemens, St. Louis has 1946. Either way, f*ck the Yankees.
2. Some quotes from around the horn..
"They played better than us. That's basically it. You can come up with this or that, but the bottom line is that they beat us." - Short-Rod (Derek Jeter)
"Now they'll go back to the drawing board with next year in mind and a newfound hunger in their collective belly. Losing in the World Series to the best team in the other league is one thing -- failing four times in a row to dispatch their bitter rival is quite another. It will stick in their craw for the entire winter, even if they pretend that it doesn't matter. "
-www.newyorkyankees.com
"I said, 'Don't let us win Game 4.' If we win Game 4, that gets us to Pedro Martinez, and then that would get us to Curt Schilling." -Kevin Millar
3. Here's the secret: Josh had Smithwick's all night, didn't smoke, and ate H-to-da-arry Browne's buffalo wings only. Me, I had no Red Sox hat on, listened to Dokken, and drank Raspberry Wheat beer. What's your talisman?
4. I gotta figure out travel plans today or tomorrow. Boy, my mom's gonna be pissed when she finds out I can't come home for Thanksgiving because I'm coming home for the WS.
5. We the people (that is, the Annapolis chapter of Red Sox Nation), made a valiant effort to help break the c-word. At Harry Browne's there was an auction last night of Sox/Ball Lickers memorabilia. The only thing we could afford was a baseball signed by Don Zimmer.
Our plan was simple; bid on the ball, win it, take it out on the street during the seventh inning stretch, burn it, and urinate on it to put out the charred remains. (Boy, beer does that to you, huh?)
We made the bid, but at the last second a bastard outbid us (literally at the last second.) Well, we must of looked really upset, because the winner approached us looking bothered and said,
"You can have the ball if you want. I didn't realize how important it was to you. Why do you want it so bad?"
My compadre Josh began making some story up, but Captain Adam Beer Pants decided to give him the abridged version.
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
To which he replied,
"No, seriously. Why do you want it?"
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
He says,
"But, I'm from New York."
I say,
"Well, then. How about this. You can hold the ball while we're doing it."
Needless to say, we didn't get the ball.
Go Sox. Go.
Sheesh, it's amazing. The World Series, for me, cannot possibly top what we've just been through. And yet, three days from now we enter the breach again.
Some random thoughts...
1. I can't decide who I would rather see in the WS. Houston has Clemens, St. Louis has 1946. Either way, f*ck the Yankees.
2. Some quotes from around the horn..
"They played better than us. That's basically it. You can come up with this or that, but the bottom line is that they beat us." - Short-Rod (Derek Jeter)
"Now they'll go back to the drawing board with next year in mind and a newfound hunger in their collective belly. Losing in the World Series to the best team in the other league is one thing -- failing four times in a row to dispatch their bitter rival is quite another. It will stick in their craw for the entire winter, even if they pretend that it doesn't matter. "
-www.newyorkyankees.com
"I said, 'Don't let us win Game 4.' If we win Game 4, that gets us to Pedro Martinez, and then that would get us to Curt Schilling." -Kevin Millar
3. Here's the secret: Josh had Smithwick's all night, didn't smoke, and ate H-to-da-arry Browne's buffalo wings only. Me, I had no Red Sox hat on, listened to Dokken, and drank Raspberry Wheat beer. What's your talisman?
4. I gotta figure out travel plans today or tomorrow. Boy, my mom's gonna be pissed when she finds out I can't come home for Thanksgiving because I'm coming home for the WS.
5. We the people (that is, the Annapolis chapter of Red Sox Nation), made a valiant effort to help break the c-word. At Harry Browne's there was an auction last night of Sox/Ball Lickers memorabilia. The only thing we could afford was a baseball signed by Don Zimmer.
Our plan was simple; bid on the ball, win it, take it out on the street during the seventh inning stretch, burn it, and urinate on it to put out the charred remains. (Boy, beer does that to you, huh?)
We made the bid, but at the last second a bastard outbid us (literally at the last second.) Well, we must of looked really upset, because the winner approached us looking bothered and said,
"You can have the ball if you want. I didn't realize how important it was to you. Why do you want it so bad?"
My compadre Josh began making some story up, but Captain Adam Beer Pants decided to give him the abridged version.
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
To which he replied,
"No, seriously. Why do you want it?"
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
He says,
"But, I'm from New York."
I say,
"Well, then. How about this. You can hold the ball while we're doing it."
Needless to say, we didn't get the ball.
Go Sox. Go.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
69 and feelin' with my hands...
Ok, monkeys. I am all but freaking out here. The past five days have been draining, to say the least; but they have also been invigorating. Here are some lessons learned.
1. There IS a baseball Jesus. There is. You can doubt his existence, you can question him, you can even try to deny his mercy. But he exists. Just ask me. Or The Silver Fox. Or anyone at Castlebay.
2. Curt Schilling has launched himself into the pantheon of Boston sports legacies. Everyone knows about "das boot", but does anyone realize he wasn't wearing the friggin' thing last night??? It was applying too much pressure on his foot. He pitched seven innings with his fucking ankle tendon sutured to his bone. His BONE!!! Did you watch him between innings? He was in excrutiating pain. But he perservered. His name now resides (in my mind) right next to the names Larry, Bobby, Yaz, Teddy, and Bill. Thank you, Curt.
3. A new hymn.
Be not afraid
I go before you always
Come, follow me
And I shall give you runs
I love you baseball Jesus. Please forgive those who may have doubted.
4. A cute Euro chick stole my Red Sox hat a few days ago. Yes, it is true I have had that had for approximately ten years. Yes, it is true that I value that hat as one of my most prized posessions. But it is also true the Sox are 3-0 when I don't wear the hat. At this point, she can almost keep it. I can get another one while I am buying an authentic Schilling jersey the nest time I'm home.
5. I noticed the CD in my car over the last few days is Dokken's Greatest Hits. Hmmmm. Three days listening to Dokken, three Sox victories. Could it be coincidence? Who gives a shit. I don't have my hat, I'm listening to Dokken tonight on the way home, and I plan on drinking my fair share of High Life while simulcasting the game with Red Sox Nation back at Bad Abbotts. After all, the Annapolis chapter of Sox Nation has important work to do.
Go Sox. F*ck the yanks. Listen to Dokken. Have kinky circus monkey sex with a loved one.
It's all good, baby.
And the rockstar sayeth,
Bring it on.
(b.t.w. the '69' reference is to the fact this is my 69th entry.)
1. There IS a baseball Jesus. There is. You can doubt his existence, you can question him, you can even try to deny his mercy. But he exists. Just ask me. Or The Silver Fox. Or anyone at Castlebay.
2. Curt Schilling has launched himself into the pantheon of Boston sports legacies. Everyone knows about "das boot", but does anyone realize he wasn't wearing the friggin' thing last night??? It was applying too much pressure on his foot. He pitched seven innings with his fucking ankle tendon sutured to his bone. His BONE!!! Did you watch him between innings? He was in excrutiating pain. But he perservered. His name now resides (in my mind) right next to the names Larry, Bobby, Yaz, Teddy, and Bill. Thank you, Curt.
3. A new hymn.
Be not afraid
I go before you always
Come, follow me
And I shall give you runs
I love you baseball Jesus. Please forgive those who may have doubted.
4. A cute Euro chick stole my Red Sox hat a few days ago. Yes, it is true I have had that had for approximately ten years. Yes, it is true that I value that hat as one of my most prized posessions. But it is also true the Sox are 3-0 when I don't wear the hat. At this point, she can almost keep it. I can get another one while I am buying an authentic Schilling jersey the nest time I'm home.
5. I noticed the CD in my car over the last few days is Dokken's Greatest Hits. Hmmmm. Three days listening to Dokken, three Sox victories. Could it be coincidence? Who gives a shit. I don't have my hat, I'm listening to Dokken tonight on the way home, and I plan on drinking my fair share of High Life while simulcasting the game with Red Sox Nation back at Bad Abbotts. After all, the Annapolis chapter of Sox Nation has important work to do.
Go Sox. F*ck the yanks. Listen to Dokken. Have kinky circus monkey sex with a loved one.
It's all good, baby.
And the rockstar sayeth,
Bring it on.
(b.t.w. the '69' reference is to the fact this is my 69th entry.)
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
I believe...and I cry
Tonight I was subject to one of the most disheartening experiences I've ever had. It's not abnormal, mind you. In fact, it's totally understandable. Tonight, the Silver Fox lost faith. Truth be known, we all did at one point or another. I mean, Schilling giving up 6 runs in 3 innings is enough to make any one soul weep. Hell, I cried a bit. But, if there's one immutable thing I've learned, it's that Baseball Jesus loves us, and will come through.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
Say it with me.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
I totally understand in a temporary lapse of faith. I can understand it. Totally.
Personally, i have suffered at the hands of baseball as much as anyone.
And tonight, when The Silver Fox weakened, I almost faltered with him.
but I have faith. Enough for two.
Go Sox, go.
Tomorrow night, Pedro.
And I FULLY expect The Silver Fox to march along side me.
He is my best friend, and I believe in him.
As much as Baseball Jesus.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
Say it with me.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
I totally understand in a temporary lapse of faith. I can understand it. Totally.
Personally, i have suffered at the hands of baseball as much as anyone.
And tonight, when The Silver Fox weakened, I almost faltered with him.
but I have faith. Enough for two.
Go Sox, go.
Tomorrow night, Pedro.
And I FULLY expect The Silver Fox to march along side me.
He is my best friend, and I believe in him.
As much as Baseball Jesus.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
We Don't Need No Education...
Ok, my little monkeys. I knew going into the whole rock and roll list thing would create a stir; and oh! what a stir! A few quick thoughts on the comments thus far...
Anonymous: To who I don't know; for your information, Morrisey came in at #42. Also, have the testicular fortitude to at least name your entry! Coward! A pox on thee! I had the canastas to stick my neck way out in voicing my opinion that Steve Perry is the greatest male rock vocalist. Kindly show me the same courtesy!
Mitch: Yeah, it was tough to put the Boss so far down, but I never really considered him a "rock" vocalist, at least not in the traditional sense of the others. Perhaps on a different list, both he and John Cougar would fare better...
Beth: My darling, big brown-eyed Beth. I at first was taken aback at the sheer vitriol your comment exuded. Feeling shamed by this, I decided to investigate this female who came at me so forcefully. So, I took a little ride on the check out Beth's profile and know thy enemy train.
Here's what I found...
Beth
Gender: female
Location: Massachusetts : United States
About Me
I've already written enough about myself on my three blogs. If you can take the self-absorption, I encourage you to visit any one of them.
Describe the sound of a moist waffle falling onto a hot griddle.
"I did not have sex with that woman."
Interests
Writing
Red Sox
New England Patriots
Nine Inch Nails
Chuck Palahniuk
Boston
books
Jhonen Vasquez
Invader Zim
Favorite Movies
American Beauty
Favorite Music
Nine Inch Nails
Metallica
Tori Amos
Johnny Cash
Beethoven
Dvorak
Rancid
Goodspeed! You Black Emperor
Telefon Tel Aviv
The Pixies
Ani Difranco
Favorite Books
Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Now, in reading this information, I couldn't help but notice one thing...
(excuse me while I clear my throat....ahem...)
Where is Chris Cornell or Soundgarden on your list?
HMMMMMM??????
And with that, we get ready for a little second period action with the score
Thirsty Bunny 1, The Rest of you Chicken F*ckers 0
Anonymous: To who I don't know; for your information, Morrisey came in at #42. Also, have the testicular fortitude to at least name your entry! Coward! A pox on thee! I had the canastas to stick my neck way out in voicing my opinion that Steve Perry is the greatest male rock vocalist. Kindly show me the same courtesy!
Mitch: Yeah, it was tough to put the Boss so far down, but I never really considered him a "rock" vocalist, at least not in the traditional sense of the others. Perhaps on a different list, both he and John Cougar would fare better...
Beth: My darling, big brown-eyed Beth. I at first was taken aback at the sheer vitriol your comment exuded. Feeling shamed by this, I decided to investigate this female who came at me so forcefully. So, I took a little ride on the check out Beth's profile and know thy enemy train.
Here's what I found...
Beth
Gender: female
Location: Massachusetts : United States
About Me
I've already written enough about myself on my three blogs. If you can take the self-absorption, I encourage you to visit any one of them.
Describe the sound of a moist waffle falling onto a hot griddle.
"I did not have sex with that woman."
Interests
Writing
Red Sox
New England Patriots
Nine Inch Nails
Chuck Palahniuk
Boston
books
Jhonen Vasquez
Invader Zim
Favorite Movies
American Beauty
Favorite Music
Nine Inch Nails
Metallica
Tori Amos
Johnny Cash
Beethoven
Dvorak
Rancid
Goodspeed! You Black Emperor
Telefon Tel Aviv
The Pixies
Ani Difranco
Favorite Books
Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Now, in reading this information, I couldn't help but notice one thing...
(excuse me while I clear my throat....ahem...)
Where is Chris Cornell or Soundgarden on your list?
HMMMMMM??????
And with that, we get ready for a little second period action with the score
Thirsty Bunny 1, The Rest of you Chicken F*ckers 0
Monday, September 20, 2004
Rock and Roll will never die.
Hello, faithful little monkeys. I have returned from places near and far with many tales of debauchery and wackiness. But first, i submit for your consideration,
The Best Rock Male Vocalists
It dawned on me today that too little attention is paid to those who brought rock home. Those that made us want to be bad-ass, drink a lot of beer, and love porn; and yet, they could capture our emotions and crush them like a gentle drop of dew on a summer's leaf. (Hey, did anyone else's bullshit meter just go off? Mine is going nuts. huh.)
Anyway, as previously stated, I present to you my list of
The Best Rock Male Vocalists
The first 20 I am strong on, the rest are somewhat in order, but I gots stuff to do! And now, without further ado, i give you...
The Best Rock Male Vocalists
1. Steve Perry (Journey)
2. David Lee Roth (Van Halen)
3. Bonn Scott (AC/DC)
4. Rob Halford (Judas Priest)
5. Freddy Mercury (Queen)
6. Steven Tyler (Aerosmith)
7. Roger Daltrey (The Who)
8. Robert Plant (Led Zepplin)
9. Roger Waters (Pink Floyd)
10. Bono (U2)
11. Chris Cornell (Soundgarden)
12. Ozzy Ozbourne
13. Bruce Dickinson (Iron Maiden)
14. Brad Delp (Boston)
15. Mick Jagger (The Rolling Stones)
16. Sting (The Police)
17. Geddy Lee (Rush)
18. Axl Rose (Guns N Roses)
19. Billy Idol
20. Joe Elliot (Def Leppard)
21. Prince
22. George Thorogood
23. John Fogerty (CCR)
24. Joey Ramone (The Ramones)
25.David Bowie
26. Bob Seger
27. Joe Cocker
28. Ian Astbury (The Cult)
29. David Coverdale (Whitesnake)
30. Corey Glover (Living Color)
31. Neil Young
32. Brett Michaels (Poison)
33. Geoff Tate (Queensryche)
34. Alice Cooper
35. Paul McCartney (The Beatles)
36. Frank Zappa
37. James Hetfield (Metallica)
38. Bruce Springsteen
39. Peter Gabriel (Genesis)
40. Johnny Rotten (Sex Pistols)
41. Joe Strummer (The Clash)
42. Morissey (The Smiths)
43. Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top)
44. Dave Mustaine (Megadeth)
45. Billy Corgan (Smashing Pumpkins)
46. Kurt Cobain (Nirvana)
47. Jim Morrison (The Doors)
48. Gregg Allman (Allman Brothers Band)
49. David Gilmour (Pink Floyd)
50. John Bon Jovi (Bon Jovi)
51. Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails)
52. Eric Burdon (Animals)
53. Warren Zevon
54. Eddie Vedder (Pearl Jam)
55. Don Dokken (Dokken)
56. Steve Miller
57. Ronnie Van Zant (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
58. Robin Zander (Cheap Trick)
59. Lou Gramm (Foreigner)
60. David Byrne (Talking Heads)
61. Eric Clapton
62. Henry Rollins (Black Flag)
63. Edgar Winter
64. Joe Walsh (Eagles).
65. Stevie Ray Vaughan
66. Jimi Hendrix
67. Tom Petty
68. Jeff Keith (Tesla)
69. Dave Mustaine (Megadeth)
70. John Kay (Steppenwolf)
The Best Rock Male Vocalists
It dawned on me today that too little attention is paid to those who brought rock home. Those that made us want to be bad-ass, drink a lot of beer, and love porn; and yet, they could capture our emotions and crush them like a gentle drop of dew on a summer's leaf. (Hey, did anyone else's bullshit meter just go off? Mine is going nuts. huh.)
Anyway, as previously stated, I present to you my list of
The Best Rock Male Vocalists
The first 20 I am strong on, the rest are somewhat in order, but I gots stuff to do! And now, without further ado, i give you...
The Best Rock Male Vocalists
1. Steve Perry (Journey)
2. David Lee Roth (Van Halen)
3. Bonn Scott (AC/DC)
4. Rob Halford (Judas Priest)
5. Freddy Mercury (Queen)
6. Steven Tyler (Aerosmith)
7. Roger Daltrey (The Who)
8. Robert Plant (Led Zepplin)
9. Roger Waters (Pink Floyd)
10. Bono (U2)
11. Chris Cornell (Soundgarden)
12. Ozzy Ozbourne
13. Bruce Dickinson (Iron Maiden)
14. Brad Delp (Boston)
15. Mick Jagger (The Rolling Stones)
16. Sting (The Police)
17. Geddy Lee (Rush)
18. Axl Rose (Guns N Roses)
19. Billy Idol
20. Joe Elliot (Def Leppard)
21. Prince
22. George Thorogood
23. John Fogerty (CCR)
24. Joey Ramone (The Ramones)
25.David Bowie
26. Bob Seger
27. Joe Cocker
28. Ian Astbury (The Cult)
29. David Coverdale (Whitesnake)
30. Corey Glover (Living Color)
31. Neil Young
32. Brett Michaels (Poison)
33. Geoff Tate (Queensryche)
34. Alice Cooper
35. Paul McCartney (The Beatles)
36. Frank Zappa
37. James Hetfield (Metallica)
38. Bruce Springsteen
39. Peter Gabriel (Genesis)
40. Johnny Rotten (Sex Pistols)
41. Joe Strummer (The Clash)
42. Morissey (The Smiths)
43. Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top)
44. Dave Mustaine (Megadeth)
45. Billy Corgan (Smashing Pumpkins)
46. Kurt Cobain (Nirvana)
47. Jim Morrison (The Doors)
48. Gregg Allman (Allman Brothers Band)
49. David Gilmour (Pink Floyd)
50. John Bon Jovi (Bon Jovi)
51. Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails)
52. Eric Burdon (Animals)
53. Warren Zevon
54. Eddie Vedder (Pearl Jam)
55. Don Dokken (Dokken)
56. Steve Miller
57. Ronnie Van Zant (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
58. Robin Zander (Cheap Trick)
59. Lou Gramm (Foreigner)
60. David Byrne (Talking Heads)
61. Eric Clapton
62. Henry Rollins (Black Flag)
63. Edgar Winter
64. Joe Walsh (Eagles).
65. Stevie Ray Vaughan
66. Jimi Hendrix
67. Tom Petty
68. Jeff Keith (Tesla)
69. Dave Mustaine (Megadeth)
70. John Kay (Steppenwolf)
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Do it !!!
LOOK AT THIS LINK RIGHT THE F*CK NOW!!!
I became a Yankees fan the first time my daddy f*cked me.
DO IT! DO IT!! DO IT!!
Now go tell your mother you love her, drink an icy cold beer ot three, and go make sweet love to some sort of barnyard animal (unless you are a Yankees fan, then you probably already are and should quit the livestock and go back to takin' it downtown from pops); the world is coming to an end...
The Sox might just do it.
I became a Yankees fan the first time my daddy f*cked me.
DO IT! DO IT!! DO IT!!
Now go tell your mother you love her, drink an icy cold beer ot three, and go make sweet love to some sort of barnyard animal (unless you are a Yankees fan, then you probably already are and should quit the livestock and go back to takin' it downtown from pops); the world is coming to an end...
The Sox might just do it.
I...uh...er...
Let's say, hypothetically (and I stress hypothetically) you check your email one morning as you try to do every day, and there is an email from an old school buddy living in California. Now let's say (again, hypothetically) that buddy has forwarded you a link under the guise of "ya gotta see this!!!" So, you click on it. After a few seconds the screen goes dark, and...
you see an old ex-girlfriend in a porn that cost about fifteen bucks to make, including buying coffee for the cast and crew when it's a wrap.
Yeesh.
(Well, Yeesh hypothetically)
you see an old ex-girlfriend in a porn that cost about fifteen bucks to make, including buying coffee for the cast and crew when it's a wrap.
Yeesh.
(Well, Yeesh hypothetically)
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Bad, bad math.
Ok, gather 'round, everyone. I'm going to impart a bit of wisdom you all would do well to heed. if you ever listen to anything I ever say to you, make it this; trust me.
NEVER have more shots than beers. NEVER, EVER, EVER. EVER.
I had the dubious honor of turning 34 yesterday. The plan, as presented to me, was for a few friends to help celebrate quietly. Why must my home consistently be turned in to a house of lies? "Few" turned into roughly 20, and "quiet" became "Tiki Night" at McGarveys'. I was deceived. And boy did I pay for it. I had more shots than beers. Never ever again. In fact, I think I'm abolishing all shots entirely. It's not worth feeling like I have part of Annapolis' sewer system running through me. Yuck.
Anyhoo, i still plan on posting stuff about the trip with the Foxxe, i lave lotsa lists to share, and so much more!
See ya!
NEVER have more shots than beers. NEVER, EVER, EVER. EVER.
I had the dubious honor of turning 34 yesterday. The plan, as presented to me, was for a few friends to help celebrate quietly. Why must my home consistently be turned in to a house of lies? "Few" turned into roughly 20, and "quiet" became "Tiki Night" at McGarveys'. I was deceived. And boy did I pay for it. I had more shots than beers. Never ever again. In fact, I think I'm abolishing all shots entirely. It's not worth feeling like I have part of Annapolis' sewer system running through me. Yuck.
Anyhoo, i still plan on posting stuff about the trip with the Foxxe, i lave lotsa lists to share, and so much more!
See ya!
Sunday, August 08, 2004
Catchin' up.
Hello, my little monkeys. I must apologize for my absence as of late. Busy busy busy. Some important items, tho;
most importantly, a belated blogesque 'shout-out' to the lovely Heather Jean Shannon Thomas, who had a most delightful birthday scant days ago. Her blog, 'Shards,' is a wonderful amalgam of thoughts, beliefs, and cool sites where you can make a characature of yourself holding a fish. Good, good stuff.
And now, in honor of Mrs. Shannon's (tee hee hee "Mrs.") birthday, I shall compose seventeen anagrams from Heather Shannon's Birthday.
1. A HATBAND EH HERN HORNY SITS
2. A BARNHARD HES YEN HINTS HOT
Ok, there will only be two, because i suck at this (but I CAN do the 'floating thumb' thing pretty well.
Happy Birthday, Heather!
most importantly, a belated blogesque 'shout-out' to the lovely Heather Jean Shannon Thomas, who had a most delightful birthday scant days ago. Her blog, 'Shards,' is a wonderful amalgam of thoughts, beliefs, and cool sites where you can make a characature of yourself holding a fish. Good, good stuff.
And now, in honor of Mrs. Shannon's (tee hee hee "Mrs.") birthday, I shall compose seventeen anagrams from Heather Shannon's Birthday.
1. A HATBAND EH HERN HORNY SITS
2. A BARNHARD HES YEN HINTS HOT
Ok, there will only be two, because i suck at this (but I CAN do the 'floating thumb' thing pretty well.
Happy Birthday, Heather!
Saturday, July 31, 2004
F*ck it again.
I created this entry to apologize to Orlando Cabrera and Doug Mientkiewicz, the two players the Sox ultimately got for Nomah. I referred to them as "two retards and a hand job."
I was harsh. I was abruptly unfair. I shoudn't have.
Then I looked at their stats.
Orlando Cabrera: .246, 4 HR, 31 RBI
Doug Mientkiewicz: .246, 5 HR, 25 RBI
I just can't do it. I can't.
As stated previously, the Red Sox today traded Nomah for two retards and a hand job.
At least Boston fans got fucked in the deal. That's better than a hand job, I guess. But it feels more like we got fisted.
Huh.
I was harsh. I was abruptly unfair. I shoudn't have.
Then I looked at their stats.
Orlando Cabrera: .246, 4 HR, 31 RBI
Doug Mientkiewicz: .246, 5 HR, 25 RBI
I just can't do it. I can't.
As stated previously, the Red Sox today traded Nomah for two retards and a hand job.
At least Boston fans got fucked in the deal. That's better than a hand job, I guess. But it feels more like we got fisted.
Huh.
Oh f*ck.
Sometimes life shows you a preview of things to come. Sometimes those things are really good. Sometimes, not so good.
The Sox just traded Nomah for two retards and a handjob.
Oh f*ck.
The Sox just traded Nomah for two retards and a handjob.
Oh f*ck.
My Kingdom for a Firkin of Belhaven.
Geez, I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really want a Belhaven on tap right now.
Oh, by the way, a firkin is 72 pints. Or 144 cups. Or 288 gils. Or 6,912 teaspoons.
Look, I'm just thirsty, ok?
Oh, by the way, a firkin is 72 pints. Or 144 cups. Or 288 gils. Or 6,912 teaspoons.
Look, I'm just thirsty, ok?
Finally, some answers...
I'm hard at work today. I spearheaded an effort to help save all mankind from itself. I am proud to report we devised a tool (hee hee, I said "tool,") to solve the age-old dilemma...
What's for lunch?
Cinema Lunch Generator
What's for lunch?
Cinema Lunch Generator
Thursday, July 29, 2004
11 Minutes of Huh?
I had a really weird night last night...
So there I was.
I was sitting on my steps, practicing guitar in preparation for the lesson I give my friend John every Wednesday night. My roommate, Jason, had come outside to hang out and chat. We were sitting there, drinking icy cold beer and chatting when a girl rounds the corner down the street from our apartment. She's about 16, maybe 17. She walks the block or so towards us, peers into the new piano shop about three doors down from us, and then tentatively approaches us.
Odd sixteen-year-old: "Excuse me, do you have the time?"
TB: "Uh, yeah. It's 9:55."
OSYO: "Great, thanks."
And she walks off. Well, she gets about eleven feet from us, stalls, and then returns.
OSYO: "So, uh, what songs can you play?"
TB: "You mean, songs you might know from the radio?"
OSYO: "Yeah."
TB: "None, really. I just play my own stuff for my own pleasure."
OSYO: "Oh. So, uh, do you guys live around here?"
Jason Bertrand: "Yeah, we live here."
OSYO: "That's cool. I live in Arnold."
At this moment, a woman rounds a different corner with a camera on a tripod.
Camera Gal: (in a thick European accent) "Can I take your picture?"
JB: "Uh, sure. Hang on though; I have to fix Old Glory." (The American flag hanging from our doorway which had become tangled.)
CG: "Ok." She takes a picture. (click)
JB: "Hang on!"
CG: "Sure." (click)
OSYO: "So, uh I work right around the corner at Buddy's restaurant."
TB: "That's cool."
Enter another girl with a camera on a tripod. She sets up next to the first girl, about six feet away, and starts taking pictures of CG.
CG2: (to CG) “Can I take your picture?”
CG: “Sure. Hey, are you almost done with the flag?”
JB: “Yep.”
CG: “Great!” (click.)
CG2: “Smile!” (click2)
OSYO: “So, uh, you guys ever get to Buddy’s?” (click) (click2)
TB: “Yeah, we’ve gone for brunch a few times. It’s pretty good.” (click)
(click2)
CG2: (to JB) “Can I take your picture?” (click)
JB: “Sure. What’s this for?” (click2)
OSYO: “Well, I don’t work Sundays. Well, I work at four.” (click)
At this point a third photographer with a tripod is setting up shop at the end of the block and starts photographing the whole scene.
JB: “That’s cool. I’ve eaten there once or twice for dinner.”
(click) (click2) (click3)
CG2 starts taking pictures of JB and TB. CG starts taking pictures of P3.
OSYO: “Uh, you guys should come in some time for dinner. I can hook you up.”
TB: “Uh, yeah, right.” (click3)
(click2) (click)
JB: “So, what’s up?”
OSYO: (click) “Oh, nothing.”
TB: “So, do you play guitar?”
OSYO: “No. I don’t have the coordination for it. I play piano, though.”
(click) (click3) CG2 is reloading her camera.
TB: “You play piano. That takes coordination.”
(click2) (CG2 is done reloading.)
OSYO: “Yeah, but not for guitar.”
JB: “What kind of piano do you play?”
OSYO: “Well, I only have a keyboard right now, but I’m saving for a full-size one. There’s a piano store on the next block that sells some great ones.”
(click)
JB: “Actually, it’s a few doors down.”
OSYO: “No, I’m pretty sure it’s on the next block near where my mom picks me up.”
(I remind everyone at this point she was peering into the piano store window at the beginning.)
JB: “okay…”
OSYO: “Yeah, so, what’s going on?”
TB: “Nothing.” (click) (click2)
P3 packs up and walks off.
(click)
CG: “Thanks, guys!”
JB, TB: “Sure.”
(click2)
OSYO: “Got a light?” (click2)
CG packs up as well, and walks up the street.
TB gives OSYO a light.
OSYO: “Thanks. Yeah, so, you guys should come in and visit me sometime.”
JB: “Yeah, well, our schedules are kinda odd. We’ll see.”
OSYO: “Well, I guess I gotta go. Nice to meet ya!”
JB, TB: “Yeah, you too.” (everyone shakes hands. OSYO walks off.)
CG2: “Thanks, guys!”
JB, TB: “Sure. What’s this for?”
CG2: “Just out taking some pictures, that’s all.”
CG2 walks off.
JB, TB sit there alone, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
Total elapsed time: 11 minutes.
So there I was.
I was sitting on my steps, practicing guitar in preparation for the lesson I give my friend John every Wednesday night. My roommate, Jason, had come outside to hang out and chat. We were sitting there, drinking icy cold beer and chatting when a girl rounds the corner down the street from our apartment. She's about 16, maybe 17. She walks the block or so towards us, peers into the new piano shop about three doors down from us, and then tentatively approaches us.
Odd sixteen-year-old: "Excuse me, do you have the time?"
TB: "Uh, yeah. It's 9:55."
OSYO: "Great, thanks."
And she walks off. Well, she gets about eleven feet from us, stalls, and then returns.
OSYO: "So, uh, what songs can you play?"
TB: "You mean, songs you might know from the radio?"
OSYO: "Yeah."
TB: "None, really. I just play my own stuff for my own pleasure."
OSYO: "Oh. So, uh, do you guys live around here?"
Jason Bertrand: "Yeah, we live here."
OSYO: "That's cool. I live in Arnold."
At this moment, a woman rounds a different corner with a camera on a tripod.
Camera Gal: (in a thick European accent) "Can I take your picture?"
JB: "Uh, sure. Hang on though; I have to fix Old Glory." (The American flag hanging from our doorway which had become tangled.)
CG: "Ok." She takes a picture. (click)
JB: "Hang on!"
CG: "Sure." (click)
OSYO: "So, uh I work right around the corner at Buddy's restaurant."
TB: "That's cool."
Enter another girl with a camera on a tripod. She sets up next to the first girl, about six feet away, and starts taking pictures of CG.
CG2: (to CG) “Can I take your picture?”
CG: “Sure. Hey, are you almost done with the flag?”
JB: “Yep.”
CG: “Great!” (click.)
CG2: “Smile!” (click2)
OSYO: “So, uh, you guys ever get to Buddy’s?” (click) (click2)
TB: “Yeah, we’ve gone for brunch a few times. It’s pretty good.” (click)
(click2)
CG2: (to JB) “Can I take your picture?” (click)
JB: “Sure. What’s this for?” (click2)
OSYO: “Well, I don’t work Sundays. Well, I work at four.” (click)
At this point a third photographer with a tripod is setting up shop at the end of the block and starts photographing the whole scene.
JB: “That’s cool. I’ve eaten there once or twice for dinner.”
(click) (click2) (click3)
CG2 starts taking pictures of JB and TB. CG starts taking pictures of P3.
OSYO: “Uh, you guys should come in some time for dinner. I can hook you up.”
TB: “Uh, yeah, right.” (click3)
(click2) (click)
JB: “So, what’s up?”
OSYO: (click) “Oh, nothing.”
TB: “So, do you play guitar?”
OSYO: “No. I don’t have the coordination for it. I play piano, though.”
(click) (click3) CG2 is reloading her camera.
TB: “You play piano. That takes coordination.”
(click2) (CG2 is done reloading.)
OSYO: “Yeah, but not for guitar.”
JB: “What kind of piano do you play?”
OSYO: “Well, I only have a keyboard right now, but I’m saving for a full-size one. There’s a piano store on the next block that sells some great ones.”
(click)
JB: “Actually, it’s a few doors down.”
OSYO: “No, I’m pretty sure it’s on the next block near where my mom picks me up.”
(I remind everyone at this point she was peering into the piano store window at the beginning.)
JB: “okay…”
OSYO: “Yeah, so, what’s going on?”
TB: “Nothing.” (click) (click2)
P3 packs up and walks off.
(click)
CG: “Thanks, guys!”
JB, TB: “Sure.”
(click2)
OSYO: “Got a light?” (click2)
CG packs up as well, and walks up the street.
TB gives OSYO a light.
OSYO: “Thanks. Yeah, so, you guys should come in and visit me sometime.”
JB: “Yeah, well, our schedules are kinda odd. We’ll see.”
OSYO: “Well, I guess I gotta go. Nice to meet ya!”
JB, TB: “Yeah, you too.” (everyone shakes hands. OSYO walks off.)
CG2: “Thanks, guys!”
JB, TB: “Sure. What’s this for?”
CG2: “Just out taking some pictures, that’s all.”
CG2 walks off.
JB, TB sit there alone, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
Total elapsed time: 11 minutes.
Painful Discovery.
I don't know how it happened, but it did.
It's tough to be a superhero when all who know you are constantly suspicious, and therefore nosy. It worse than papparazzi, because you know they only do it because they care.
Well, I've been found out. So, I might as well come clean.
By day, you all know me as mild-mannered, sober, Adam.
But, by night, I'm....
Der Mann Der Den Kindern Fische und Freude überall Gibt.
Yep, that's right. Loosely translated, it means
The Man Who Gives Fish and Joy To Children Everywhere.
Man, I was trying to keep it a secret. But I got cocky, and got caught. How, you ask? Well, I posed for a photo whilst distributing said fish and joy. I was in Tiannamen Square a few nights ago (well, night to us, day to them.) A tourist said,
"嘿! 那不是帶來魚和喜悅給孩子到處的人?"
(Hey, isn't that the Man Who Brings Fish and Joy to Children Everywhere?)
To which I replied (naturally),
"當然我是, 您傻的短的人! 這裡! 有一條魚和一些喜悅為您的孩子!"
(Of course it is, you silly, short person! Here! Have some fish and joy for your children!)
They took the fish and joy gladly. Then then mother (I assume she was the mother) said,
"但我們怎麼可以曾經感謝您魚? 它是顯然的一個人如您太重要以至於不能完成魚和喜悅工作為自由!
(But how can we ever thank you for the fish? It is obvious a man like you is too important to do fish and joy work for free!)
So I said,
"所有我問是您敬佩我的 從一個中等距離和給我的汽車超級幸運的亮光, 百分之一百!!!
(All I ask is you admire my genetalia from a medium distance and give my car a super-lucky shine, 100%!!!)
Ah, we all laughed. Then she snuck out a camera! The 母狗 took my picture! Well, I managed to take most of the fish back, but the joy was lost. I mean, you can't really take back joy cleanly, can you? And, wouldn't you know, the next day my friggin' picture was on the web.
So, I give up. I'm sorry, children of the world, Der Mann has to hang 'em up for a while.
Der Mann at Werk
(The incriminating photo.)
Sigh. That's what you get for trying to do the right thing.
It's tough to be a superhero when all who know you are constantly suspicious, and therefore nosy. It worse than papparazzi, because you know they only do it because they care.
Well, I've been found out. So, I might as well come clean.
By day, you all know me as mild-mannered, sober, Adam.
But, by night, I'm....
Der Mann Der Den Kindern Fische und Freude überall Gibt.
Yep, that's right. Loosely translated, it means
The Man Who Gives Fish and Joy To Children Everywhere.
Man, I was trying to keep it a secret. But I got cocky, and got caught. How, you ask? Well, I posed for a photo whilst distributing said fish and joy. I was in Tiannamen Square a few nights ago (well, night to us, day to them.) A tourist said,
"嘿! 那不是帶來魚和喜悅給孩子到處的人?"
(Hey, isn't that the Man Who Brings Fish and Joy to Children Everywhere?)
To which I replied (naturally),
"當然我是, 您傻的短的人! 這裡! 有一條魚和一些喜悅為您的孩子!"
(Of course it is, you silly, short person! Here! Have some fish and joy for your children!)
They took the fish and joy gladly. Then then mother (I assume she was the mother) said,
"但我們怎麼可以曾經感謝您魚? 它是顯然的一個人如您太重要以至於不能完成魚和喜悅工作為自由!
(But how can we ever thank you for the fish? It is obvious a man like you is too important to do fish and joy work for free!)
So I said,
"所有我問是您敬佩我的 從一個中等距離和給我的汽車超級幸運的亮光, 百分之一百!!!
(All I ask is you admire my genetalia from a medium distance and give my car a super-lucky shine, 100%!!!)
Ah, we all laughed. Then she snuck out a camera! The 母狗 took my picture! Well, I managed to take most of the fish back, but the joy was lost. I mean, you can't really take back joy cleanly, can you? And, wouldn't you know, the next day my friggin' picture was on the web.
So, I give up. I'm sorry, children of the world, Der Mann has to hang 'em up for a while.
Der Mann at Werk
(The incriminating photo.)
Sigh. That's what you get for trying to do the right thing.
Friday, July 23, 2004
Why?
Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just a little daft in the head.
But why does it seem is though America consistently fucks up? Why do we seemingly always drop the ball when it comes to doing the right thing?
I thought of this as I read The Silver Fox's entry regarding the Tour de France. It got me thinking. Why does the world hate us so?
It couldn't be the whole Iraq thing, could it? Such subversive behavior couldn't be it.
Maybe it's the whole Americans cheat at practically everything we compete at because we are so about the fame and money and 'glory' that we leave our dignity and integrity in the poop sample we send to the BALCO lab? Nah, couldn't be that.
Perhaps it's scandal after scandal spanning every conceivable arena: Martha Stewart, Enron, the Presidency, sports figures (remember the "13-year-old" that won the Little League World Series for new york by throwing 90-mph heat? They cheat in Little League, for fuck's sake. Disgusting.) But, maybe that's not it.
Could it be the way we simply take what we want, when we want it? Possibly.
Maybe it's simply because we are the bullies of the world, and have been for a long, long time.
And who doesn't like to see the bully get their friggin' asses handed to them?
Boy, it's getting tougher and tougher to hold my head high when I say I'm an American.
But why does it seem is though America consistently fucks up? Why do we seemingly always drop the ball when it comes to doing the right thing?
I thought of this as I read The Silver Fox's entry regarding the Tour de France. It got me thinking. Why does the world hate us so?
It couldn't be the whole Iraq thing, could it? Such subversive behavior couldn't be it.
Maybe it's the whole Americans cheat at practically everything we compete at because we are so about the fame and money and 'glory' that we leave our dignity and integrity in the poop sample we send to the BALCO lab? Nah, couldn't be that.
Perhaps it's scandal after scandal spanning every conceivable arena: Martha Stewart, Enron, the Presidency, sports figures (remember the "13-year-old" that won the Little League World Series for new york by throwing 90-mph heat? They cheat in Little League, for fuck's sake. Disgusting.) But, maybe that's not it.
Could it be the way we simply take what we want, when we want it? Possibly.
Maybe it's simply because we are the bullies of the world, and have been for a long, long time.
And who doesn't like to see the bully get their friggin' asses handed to them?
Boy, it's getting tougher and tougher to hold my head high when I say I'm an American.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
The Juke Box Hero speaks...
Ok, so I took Whiskypants' personality test. And I swear to all that I hold dear no manipulation was done. None.
Wackiness: 168/100
Rationality: 182/100
Constructiveness: 226/100
Leadership: 172/100
You are a WRCL--Wacky Rational Constructive Leader. This makes you a golden god. People gravitate to you, and you make them feel good. You are smart, charismatic, and interesting. You may be too sensitive to others reactions, especially criticism. Your self-opinion and mood depends greatly on those around you.You think fast and have a smart mouth, is a hoot to your friends and razorwire to your enemies. You hold a grudge like a brass ring. You crackle. Although you have a leader's personality, you often choose not to lead, as leaders stray too far from their audience. You probably weren't very popular in high school--the joke's on them!
You may be a rock star.
I've said it before, and it applies once more.
I don't put on my rock star face...I am the rockstar.
Ladies, the line starts in the back.
Wackiness: 168/100
Rationality: 182/100
Constructiveness: 226/100
Leadership: 172/100
You are a WRCL--Wacky Rational Constructive Leader. This makes you a golden god. People gravitate to you, and you make them feel good. You are smart, charismatic, and interesting. You may be too sensitive to others reactions, especially criticism. Your self-opinion and mood depends greatly on those around you.You think fast and have a smart mouth, is a hoot to your friends and razorwire to your enemies. You hold a grudge like a brass ring. You crackle. Although you have a leader's personality, you often choose not to lead, as leaders stray too far from their audience. You probably weren't very popular in high school--the joke's on them!
You may be a rock star.
I've said it before, and it applies once more.
I don't put on my rock star face...I am the rockstar.
Ladies, the line starts in the back.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
The Foxy List.
An extra-special WAHOOO! the The Silver Fox, who turns a paltry 34 today. That's right, ladies, step right up and lay yer dowry down!
In honor of TSF, here are some interesting statements about the number '34.' It's my gift to you, Fox. I'm so sorry.
Fun Statements About The Number 34. (or, the Foxy list)
1. "34" was Nolan Ryan's number when he pitched.
2. "3" plus "4" equals 7.
3. If you say the numbers really fast ("threefour") it sounds almost like your sneezing.
4. 34 is half of 68.
5. In Egyptian times, they used 'numbers' to count things, much like they do today in modern Mesopotamia.
6. "3443" is a palindrome.
7. In Chaldean numerology, "34" is "3+4."
8. Also in Chaldean numerology, "3+4" signifies enthusiastic, optimistic, and fun-loving. That's
our wacky Fox to a T!
9. The Yankees have 34 losses today! (That's about 100 too few, the dicksuckers.)
10. The Royals only have 34 wins today!
11. 33 is only one away from being 34! (keep streching and drinking your milk, little one!)
12. Jose Cappellan of the Greenville Braves is the 34th best player in the AA minors!
13. If you put 17 women in a room, you'd have 34 boobies!
14. The T-34 medium artillery tank was designed in 1937!
15. Exodus 34 quotes, ""Cut two stone tablets like the former, that I may write on them the commandments which were on the former tablets that you broke." Gee!
16. in 1861, America's flag only had 34 stars! (Look out! Here comes Kansas!)
17. Chapter 24, paragraph 1 of Utah's Code 34 specifically prohibits blacklisting employees!
Gosh! That's seventeen already, which...is....half...of..... 34!!!
Boy, we sure had fun tonight, didn't we my little monkeys! Well, Fox, have an outstanding birthday, and I'm sorry I'm not there to share it with ya. Have many for me, ok?
See ya everyone.
In honor of TSF, here are some interesting statements about the number '34.' It's my gift to you, Fox. I'm so sorry.
Fun Statements About The Number 34. (or, the Foxy list)
1. "34" was Nolan Ryan's number when he pitched.
2. "3" plus "4" equals 7.
3. If you say the numbers really fast ("threefour") it sounds almost like your sneezing.
4. 34 is half of 68.
5. In Egyptian times, they used 'numbers' to count things, much like they do today in modern Mesopotamia.
6. "3443" is a palindrome.
7. In Chaldean numerology, "34" is "3+4."
8. Also in Chaldean numerology, "3+4" signifies enthusiastic, optimistic, and fun-loving. That's
our wacky Fox to a T!
9. The Yankees have 34 losses today! (That's about 100 too few, the dicksuckers.)
10. The Royals only have 34 wins today!
11. 33 is only one away from being 34! (keep streching and drinking your milk, little one!)
12. Jose Cappellan of the Greenville Braves is the 34th best player in the AA minors!
13. If you put 17 women in a room, you'd have 34 boobies!
14. The T-34 medium artillery tank was designed in 1937!
15. Exodus 34 quotes, ""Cut two stone tablets like the former, that I may write on them the commandments which were on the former tablets that you broke." Gee!
16. in 1861, America's flag only had 34 stars! (Look out! Here comes Kansas!)
17. Chapter 24, paragraph 1 of Utah's Code 34 specifically prohibits blacklisting employees!
Gosh! That's seventeen already, which...is....half...of..... 34!!!
Boy, we sure had fun tonight, didn't we my little monkeys! Well, Fox, have an outstanding birthday, and I'm sorry I'm not there to share it with ya. Have many for me, ok?
See ya everyone.
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