As the beginning of yet another NHL season draws nigh, the frozen land mass we call home is atwitter with anticipation. That’s right - atwitter. For soon the painful off-season known as “summer” will be a distant memory, and order will be restored to the cosmos as the teams once more take to the ice in an orgy of blood, violence and two-line passes. And once again Saturday nights will have meaning as we welcome the return of the greatest television program in our nation’s history (aside from Degrassi, The Beachcombers and Danger Bay): Hockey Night in Canada.
For those of you south of the border who may be unfamiliar with this unparalleled sports phenomenon, it is a weekly masterpiece that is broadcast by our national television network (the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, or the “CBC”). In short, HNIC provides Canadians with a reason to put their snow pants on each morning and, more generally a reason to live. We will not take the time and valuable internet space to list the endless string of state-funded programs produced by the CBC that have entertained our nation over the years, but suffice it to say that the CBC’s programming is widely recognized (in the Yukon and parts of New Brunswick) as being almost above average. With accolades like that, therefore, it is hardly surprising that the network boasts the greatest hockey coverage in the world (followed closesly by the Versus Network). Below is a sample of how easily we Canadians are amused (please note the informative “Ricky Bobby-esque” religious discourse on Baby Jesus):
An essential part of the Hockey Night in Canada experience (which is much like the Jimi Hendrix Experience, though less racially diverse) is the Hockey Night in Canada theme song. Every child exits a Canadian womb with this song genetically coded into their music memory. It is sung in schools, churches and strip clubs across the nation. Also, it doesn’t have any words, so it’s easy for us Canucks to sing along with. For those unfortunate souls who have never had the pleasure, please sit back and enjoy the greatest theme music (probably) not written by John Williams:
Sadly, due to increasing tension between the CBC and the owner to the rights of our unofficial national anthem, the CBC announced at the end of last season that they would no longer be able to use the hallowed song as its intro hymn. Though we were initially disheartened to hear that this piece of history was to be forever lost (or picked up by TSN, which amounts to effectively the same thing), we have since had a change of heart. Why, you ask? Because the CBC, in its infinite federally-funded wisdom, has cleverly decided to replace the song with a theme composed by the fans themselves! Genius! After all, if you throw a bunch of drunk hockey fans in a garage with some guitars, an amp, a case of beer, a complete lack of talent and a computer, you are virtually guaranteed to have a hit song in a matter of weeks. It’s like the whole “monkeys on a typewriter” thing.
Thankfully the CBC also saw fit to post the various (unvetted) submissions on its website, so the fans can keep tabs on the musical competition as it unfolds. We here at Food Court Lunch have been following the fast-paced action with great fascination, and we can assure you that the competition has been fierce. Apparently we live in a tundra full of musical talent! Although not “official” judges of the event, we have taken the liberty of selecting what we believe to be the top contenders for the grand prize. And while our selections will not necessarily be determinative of the outcome, we’re pretty confident that the CBC will look to us for guidance. So without further ado, please enjoy FCL’s Picks for the New Hockey Night In Canada Theme Song:
1) The “Out of Work Metallica Cover Band” Theme (formerly known as the “List of Canadian Cities Read Over Guitar Feedback” Theme):
2) The “Words Cannot Express” Theme (formerly known as the “Is That Gourmet Spud’s Mom?” Theme):
3) The “Samba 1″ Theme (formerly known as “Someone’s At the Door” Theme):
4) The “Jon Bon Jovi Circa. 1988 Tribute” Theme:
5) The “Just F-ing Awesome” Theme:
6) The “Really?!” Theme:
7) The “Can We Submit Our Song on 8-Track?” Theme (formerly known as the “Press Play On Tape” Theme”):
8 ) The “Class of ‘78 High School Band Reunion” Theme:
9) The “Who Taught My Mom How To Use The Internet?!?” Theme:
10) The “Boo Ya!” Theme (formerly known as the “Is That David Cross?” Theme. Also formerly known as the “‘Shoots A Score’? Really? You Don’t Watch A Lot Of Hockey, Do You?” Theme):
Well, CBC - the future certainly looks bright! They’re all winners in our books!
(‘Ode to Joy’ plays and audience cheers as we return from commercial break)
Nancy Pimental: …aaaaaaand we’re back with the exciting conclusion of “Win Latrell Sprewell’s Money”! You’re up against a tough opponent today, Latrell - how are you feeling?
Latrell Sprewell: (sitting in isolation booth) I keep telling you - I don’t know what is going on here! Why do you keep saying people are trying to win my money?
Nancy: Latrell, we asked Paulo, the actuary and amateur dog breeder from Portland, Oregon, ten questions. He answered five of them correctly. That means you’ve got to get at least six questions right in order to hang on to your $5000.
Sprewell: (frantic)But I don’t have $5000 to lose! I mean…is this even legal?
Nancy: I’m going to ask you the same ten questions I asked Paulo. You have sixty seconds - are you ready?
Looks like Clay’s already managed to work off most of the baby weight. Strange, but I always assumed the baby would look at least a bit like Ruben Studdard. But I’m no genetician.
Nothing new here. We put a tire around grandma’s waist years back to keep her safe. Didn’t protect her from falling, but it sure made it easier to roll her down the driveway once nature took its course.
It broke my wife’s heart when we had to return our Chinese orphan. But what are you going to do? It was covered with lead paint and none of the seams matched up.
To the IT department: The opinions expressed in this blog do not reflect the views of the dedicated employee who, on a short break from his work tasks, drafted this post while sitting at his desk fielding calls from his beloved superiors in a manner befitting of someone who aspires to grow with the company.
(Lockeroom. Browns Stadium. Cleveland, OH. Braylon Edwards and Kellen Winslow Jr. stand looking over something, laughing)
Edwards: (giggling) This is going to be hilarious.
Winslow Jr.: Quiet, quiet. Here he comes.
(Brady Quinn enters lockeroom)
Quinn: Hey guys. What’s so funny?
Winslow Jr.: (barely stifles laughter)
Edwards: (to Winslow Jr.) Shut up. (to Quinn) Say, Brady. Did you hear the good news?
Quinn: (excited) You mean…I’m starting on Sunday?
Edwards: Even better! (throws magazine at Quinn)
Quinn: (startled) What the…
Edwards: Christmas came early!
(Edwards and Winslow Jr. laugh hysterically)
Quinn: Oh, real mature, guys.
Winslow Jr.: Hey…maybe you guys can finally take the relationship public!
Quinn: Jerks.
(Jamal Lewis enters lockeroom)
Lewis: What’s going on in here? Go on, you two idiots, skedaddle!
(Edwards and Winslow scurry out of lockeroom, laughing uncontrollably)
Lewis: Those two bugging you again, champ?
Quinn: Aw, it’s okay Jamal. I’m used to it.
Lewis: No, it’s not okay. You’ve got to start standing up for yourself, man.
Quinn: What’s the point? It’s not just them. Everyone is always making fun of me. Teammates, fans, those assholes over at KSK…
Lewis: That’s because you let them. Listen, take it from me - you either start fighting back, or you’ll always get treated like a straight punk.
Quinn: I don’t know.
Lewis: Well, I do know. Look, man, when I was sent to prison, you better believe I was a target. Everybody wanted to take a shot at the millionare NFL running back. I must have been in a fight a day the first week I was there.
Quinn: That sucks.
Lewis: You’re damn right it sucked! But did I just sit back and take it? Hell no! I may not have won every fight, but it was always at least a split decision!
Quinn: Wow. That’s amazing.
Lewis: It’s not that amazing. You’ve just got to make a decision - are you going to be a man…or a bitch?
Quinn: (stands up) You know what…I’m going to be a man!
Lewis: That’s what I’m talking about!
Quinn: I’m going to go out there and punch Braylon and Kellen right in their big yaps!
Lewis: Attaboy!
Quinn: Thanks, Jamal.
Lewis: No problem. But hey…what’s your hurry, man?
Quinn: Huh?
Lewis: I’m saying, why do you have to go and take care of that right now? I mean, we’ve got this whole big lockeroom to ourselves…
Quinn: I…I don’t understand.
Lewis: Look, man, you don’t have to play coy with ol’ Jamal. I’ve been in the joint. I know how things go down.
Quinn: How what goes down?
Lewis: (puts hand on Quinn’s shoulder) Come on…don’t make me spell it out.
Having recently returned from my annual trip to Reno Las Vegas, it struck me that many of our readers may be relative novices when it comes to the ins and outs of the Vegas experience. Indeed, some of you may be entirely unfamiliar with the sacred “Vegas Code” (which is a lot like the Da Vinci Code, without Tom Hanks). In our ongoing efforts to educate the unwashed masses, therefore, we have compiled the following list of rules that, if followed to the letter, will guarantee the ultimate Las Vegas adventure:
1. Always Stay “Off Strip” - The most important element of any trip to Vegas is where you stay. A lot of amateurs will make the mistake of booking a hotel on the famous Las Vegas “Strip”, thinking that they want to be close to the action. Rookie mistake. All of the big players know that you want a nice 6-10 mile buffer between your hotel and the so-called action. Accordingly, when your buddy tells you he has found a great deal at the Days Inn, which is only a “short cab ride to the Strip”, book it! That way, when “the ladies” ask where you are staying, you can dazzle them with your thriftiness (and the prospect of a lengthy cab ride to a sub-par motel).
2. Always Gamble Drunk - Another common mistake among rookie Vegasers is to hit the tables while sober. If history has taught us anything (aside from the fact that the Irish will commit unspeakable acts in the name of the potato), it is that gambling should always be done while (heavily) intoxicated. Science shows that humans make their wisest decisions while “wasted” (that’s a scientific term - look it up). Accordingly, when you return from the local “ballet” at 6:30 in the morning and your friends are pushing for some breakfast, resist the peer pressure. Now is the perfect time to hit the tables!! You’re a god who cannot be beaten at this point, particularly by some fancypants dealer with a smug expression and quick hands. Show them who’s boss (Tony Danza)! Hell, double-down on everything just for the hell of it. You simply cannot lose. And if you do, there’s always an ATM nearby. If at all possible, try to act like this guy.
3. The Strippers Really Like You (& Only You) - A lot of nay-sayers will tell you that strippers are merely in the game for the money, and that their motives are purely mercenary. This is pure folly. Strippers are simply looking for true love. Sure, they make a little money on the side, but the fact remains that they are waiting for Mr. Right to walk through that heavily-guarded door at 3:00 AM. As such, if you are lucky enough to find yourself engaged in a conversation with a stripper who shows signs of being interested in you and what you have to say, do not waste this rare opportunity! She really likes you. In order to show her that you feel the same, be sure to shower her with money (tip her for dances, buy her shots, offer to fund her ongoing education as an actuary). You’d be amazed at how many actuaries-in-training there are in the Vegas strip clubs, all of whom have been waiting for a guy like you. And if your friends try to drag you out of there, remember that they just don’t understand what true love is. They are not true friends.
4. Groups of Guys Reign Supreme - The nightlife in Vegas is unparalleled: Celine Dion, Cher, Carrot Top and, of course, Danny Gans (also known as “The Entertainer of the Year”, according to Mrs. Gans). If you are unfortunate enough to miss out on all of this action, there are always the clubs. They’re ok, I guess. But if you go this route, be sure to travel in large groups of guys. The clubs are desperate for hordes of awkward, poorly-dressed males, so travelling in nerd packs is definitely the way to go. Trust me. Also, don’t plan in advance. Just see where the night takes you. When you end up outside of a suitable venue, just stand awkwardly with the other members of your gender and try to flag down the bouncer. Once you explain that you and your friends just want to get in to the club for some drinks and to cut a rug, he will let you right in. If he doesn’t, be sure to badger him constantly. Whatever you do, do not offer him any money - this will be taken as an insult, and you may suffer for your rudeness.
5. Bottle Service Is Always A Bargain - Since the dawn of mankind, philosophers have passionately debated the timeless question of whether it is better to get bottle service than to buy drinks at the bar. Sometimes you don’t have a choice (we call those weekdays in Vegas… and weekends). However, when you do, always go with bottle service. It is a steal! Admittedly, the 700% mark-up on the cost of the bottle will seem expensive at first, but think of all the time you’ll save by not having to stand in line! Also, you get a tiny couch to sit on, and an equally tiny table around which to huddle. You cannot put a price on this luxury! But be warned! There is a risk that your table will be approached by young ladies looking for fun and a few free drinks. Send these harlots packing, my friend. You are there to get drunk with your friends in a corner, not to socialize with women in need of alcohol. Keep your heads down, and drink the bottles as quickly as you can. If you’re looking for love, your best bet is definitely the bottle service hostess. These poor creatures are rarely hit on, and are dying for you to speak to them. The 20% commission they are making off of your $2000 table purchase in no way influences how witty and charming they find you. Finally, if you do make the mistake of inviting ladies to join you at the table, be sure they bring their friends. Pour as many drinks as you possibly can for all of the well-wishers who pass by. Once you have made a single drink for them, they are duty-bound to stay with you for the remainder of the evening and engage you in glorious conversation. Moreover, they will be so full from the first drink that they could not possibly think of asking for another. And if you run out of booze, fear not - you can always order another bottle…
Our absolute sincerest apologies, but with all four humble contributors to this site out of country/pocket these last few days, we’ve got nothing original today (correct response: how is that different than any other day?) We’ll be back with something new tomorrow, but for now we thought we would revisit one of our old posts (below) back when no one, as opposed to almost no one, was reading us. Why have I chosen one of my own posts? Because I can, damnit! Also, I’m a shameless self-promoter. Grazie.*
There is nothing we at foodcourtlunch care more about than the safety of our readers. Granted, this could have something to do with the fact that most of our readers are members of our immediate family. Tough to say for sure.
But if your family is anything like ours, then they get spin-kicked. A lot. So much, in fact, that we were inspired to put together the following list of ten ways to avoid getting hit by spin-kicks, if for no other reason than to preserve our respective genealogical lines. We hope you find the list useful. And if just one person avoids getting spin-kicked because of it, then it will have been worth it. Here goes:
1. Practice, Practice, Practice
No mystery here. The second best way* to avoid getting spin-kicked is to become unspinkickable. And the best way to become unspinkickable is through practice. It’s pretty simple - all you need to do is find a friend who is good at spin-kicks. Have him kick you about thirty or forty times. Eventually, your ability to anticipate and react to the oncoming kick will become so ingrained, you will be moving your head out of the way before his foot has left the ground. And to get you started, here’s a helpful hint: a spin-kick starts in the hips, not in the foot. This will cut a crucial 10 to 20/100ths of a second off your reaction time.
*See #10.
2. Negotiate
As my old boss used to tell me, “it ain’t a spin-kick until heel meets jaw. Every second before then is a chance to make a deal.” According to the Northern Ontario Ministry of Assault by Spin-Kick (N.O.-M.A.S.), half of all spin-kicks are a result of a misunderstanding, and are therefore avoidable. Hence, the ability to reason and relate with your would-be spin-kicker is an invaluable skill.
And you don’t have to be a seasoned corporate lawyer or a high-powered helmet executive to master basic negotiation techniques. The business section of any bookstore will have a number of titles on negotiating that should be more than enough to get you started. Now some of you might be saying, “but money’s tight around my house, and we don’t have twenty or thirty dollars to go and spend on a book about negotiating.” Well, have you ever heard of a little something called “the library”?
The library.
3. Helmets
Technically, wearing a helmet won’t help you avoid getting spin-kicked, but it will lessen the impact of a spin-kick significantly. Unless your parents are named Carl and Bonnie Lindros. If that’s the case, well…you’re pretty much fucked.
4. Wear Religious Clothing
Q: What do priests, nuns, rabbis and Tibetan monks all have in common?
A: They rarely, if ever, get spin-kicked.
For whatever reason, people tend not to kick men and women of the cloth (at least not in the head - see #5). If you find yourself the target of an intolerable amount of spin-kicks, try adding a habit or a kippah to your wardrobe. You will notice a drastic drop-off in the number of spin-kicks almost immediately. I can’t say why exactly, but believe me, it works.
Note: the above is not to say that just because someone is dressed in religious clothing, then they are not a threat to spin-kick you. In fact, the opposite is true. The world’s best spin-kickers become the best because they are always two steps ahead. So whereas you might think that the bald man in the orange cloak is dressed that way to avoid getting spin-kicked, there is a very real chance that this is just what he wants you to think, and is in fact lulling you into letting your guard down. Which leads us to #5…
5. Strike First!
Out of an abundance of caution, I find it safest to assume that anyone wearing religious clothing is going to try and spin-kick me. So I take a proactive approach, and neutralize each potential threat with a short, swift kick to the groin. I have been known to cross the street to do this.
You may ask why I choose a kick to the groin instead of a spin-kick. A fair question; the answer is two-fold. First, while I am a master at avoiding getting spin-kicked, I am a terrible spin-kicker myself (those who can’t do…LOL). Second, I don’t care how good a spin-kicker you are, you are NOT going to be able to spin, elevate (optional) and kick before I can kick you down below. A groin kick is quick, direct and very effective.
You may also be thinking that kicking every single person wearing religious clothing that you see in the groin is being a bit paranoid, but I think the results speak for themselves. I haven’t been spin-kicked in over thirteen years, and I’ll take that over no longer being invited to weddings any day.
6. Pick a fight with this guy…
7….or this guy…
8. …but avoid fights with these guys…
9. …and especially this guy.
He doesn’t give a damn who he spin-kicks.
10. Never Leave Your House
Fact: J.D. Salinger has never been spin-kicked.
Last, but certainly not least, the best way to avoid getting spin-kicked is to become a recluse. N.O.-M.A.S. reports that 80% of all spin-kicks happen outdoors, or in gymnasiums with high ceilings. So why risk it? With the advent of food-delivery, indoor plumbing and Internet pornography, mankind has never been less dependent on the outdoors than he is now. And if it is boredom you are worried about, relax! There are plenty of things to do inside. You could take up painting. Or start a blog with your friends. Or get really good at push-ups. The possibilities are only limited by your imagination and the inevitable onset of rickets.
So there you have it. Ten easy ways to make your life more more fulfilling and less overrun by spin-kicks. We suggest you don’t delay, and put these tips into practice immediately. Take it from us - you…not to mention your brain…will thank us for it.
Usually we reserve this feature for exceptionally irritating humans or Kroegers, but we are making a special exception today, and for good reason. I was walking out of the subway station yesterday, minding my own business, listening to my iPod and basking in the sunshine of a beautiful end-of-summer day. Suddenly, from nowhere, a pigeon comes careening straight towards me, unflinching, missing my head by no more than four inches. I can still see the cruel, deranged look in his eyes.
I reacted as anyone in the same situation would have - by spastically turning and shielding my face, and yelping in a manner not unlike a dog who has just learned why the vet put on the rubber glove.
As I slunk away under the mocking eyes of cab drivers and hot dog vendors, I realized that things had gotten out of hand. This new generation of pigeon, it’s like the fear of humans has been bred right out of them. Now, due to the combination of a pigeon’s power of flight and my terrible reflexes (family legend has it my great-grandfather traded away our fast-twitch muscle fibers for two gallons of tryptophan-laced whiskey), the chances of me actually getting to punch a pigeon are regrettably slim. So I thought I would do the next best thing, and poke fun at how stupid they look. I ask then that you do me a favour and, the next time you see a pigeon, read this to them. And if at all possible, take his or her picture at the exact moment that smug sense of superiority melts away from their face like droppings on a statue of Winston Churchill.
You see what happens when you mess with me, shitbirds?
The “Gay Professor”
The “Trying Way Too Hard”
The “Keep Telling Yourself It’s Genetic, Tubby”
The “Funny…When I Was Six”
The “Couldn’t Afford a Digital”
Alternate Name: The “Tragically Hip’s Inspiration”
That’s what my father told me after I was picked off at first base when the first baseman distracted me by pointing to a tripped-out Camaro driving by the baseball diamond. I was just a kid, and I didn’t understand what he was talking about. Centrifugal motion was interesting, but hardly helped to explain the pain that I was feeling. I didn’t understand that he was trying to tell me that people who cheat eventually get cheated themselves. And although the first baseman hadn’t cheated per se, it certainly didn’t seem to me to be a nice way to play the game. By giving me this talk, my father was trying to prepare me for life in a sometimes cruel, but generally just, world.
Many years later, I learned that this man was not in fact my father. Nevertheless, my experiences since that day have convinced me that he was right: What goes around really does come around. The people who were the most attractive ones in high school generally grow up to be unattractive, unpopular adults with unfulfilling jobs. The most successful investment dealers invest in asset-backed commercial paper and go bankrupt. The once-largest colonial empire becomes colonized by shawarma-wielding foreigners. The circle of life, if you will.
However, I have noticed that in one particular area of human experience, the laws of karma seem to be frequently suspended. And that area, my friends, is Sports. In a universe properly balanced by the elastic forces of karma, the Superbowl would be won by the most virtuous team, the NL MVP would be a philanthropist, and the Masters winner would donate his green jacket to a jacketless orphan of similar size. But experience has taught us that the opposite is more frequently the case. Quite often, it’s those who flaunt the rules of karma who reach the highest echelons of sport. In today’s edition, we celebrate those athletes - Sport’s Greatest Karmic Anomalies(more…)
“Knock, knock! Anybody home? Hey hey! What’s up, Steve? Good to see you, buddy. Kelly, you look lovely, as usual. No, thank you for inviting us. Yeah, way too long. When was the last time we were here, Angie? February? Wow, time flies. Sure, I’d love one. Doesn’t matter - rye and Coke if you have it.
Place looks great. Did you guys get new furniture? Very nice, very nice. I can see that Steve didn’t pick any of the colours - it doesn’t look like the South African flag in here. Ha, ha, just kidding, buddy. Really, place looks great.
Say, what’s this? No way! You got the new Rock Band? Aw man, let’s fire this up! Heck yes, right now! This apartment isn’t going to rock itself! What’s that, Steve? Sure, I’d love another one - no ice this time if you don’t mind.
Alright, I’ll take the mic first. Singer picks the song, right? Ooh! Ooh! Spoonman!I haven’t heard that in forever. I’ll do it on “Medium”. Just give me a second to warm up the pipes. Alright, good to go.
Ungh. Yeah. Sounding good, bandmates. Okay, here we go…
FEEL THE RHYTHM WITH YOUR HANDS! FEEL THE RHYTHM WHILE YOU CAN! SPOONMAN!
SPEAK THE RHYTHM ON YOUR…
…what the…? “Song failed”? What does that mean? Because of me? Hmm, that’s weird. Okay, let’s try it again. Heh. Guess I didn’t warm up enough.
Everyone ready? Here we go. Ungh. Yeah. Feel it. One time…
FEEL THE RHYTHM WITH YOUR HANDS! FEEL THE RHYTHM WHILE YOU CAN! SPOONMAN!
SPEAK THE RHYTHM ON YOUR…
…son of a…again? Something must be wrong with the mic. I don’t think it is picking up the pitch right. Do you have another one? Okay, someone switch with me then. Here, Angie, give singing a try. I’ll take the drums. Hey, mind if I top myself up here?
Alright, ready. What song are you going to pick? You Oughta Know? Of course you’d pick the chick song. What, there wasn’t any Tori Amos? No, it’s fine, it’s fine. It will just be really boring on the drums for me, that’s all.
Okay, ready? One! Two! One! Two! Three! Four!
Whoa, this is fast. What’s this yellow bar mean? Steve, what am I supposed to do when I see the yellow…son of a…STEVE! Well, you’ve got to tell me it’s the bass pedal! This is going too fast…someone…SOMEONE SAVE ME! QUICK! SOMEONE…
DAMNIT! There is no way that was on “Medium”! Well, then the screen is wrong! God! This is frustrating. Here, just let me play the bass. JUST LET ME DO IT! Steve, is this all the Coke you have? Forget it, I’ll drink it straight up.
Okay, lemme pick…LEMME PICK THE SONG! Lesh do Feel the Pain, that hash to have an eashy bass line. Here, move over a bit, Kell-lee, I needa be right in fronna the screen.
Puddit on “Eashy”. STEVE! Puddit on “Eashy”! We’re gonna ged through the whole song thish time. Every buddy focus, we’re gonna ged through id. Alright, I’m reddy.
Okay…that’s more like it. Now we’ve got it. NOW we’re cookin’! Green, green, green, green, red, red, red, red, green, green, green, green…yellow?…oh wait, the timing is off. Aw man, this is…when I’m pushing the button it isn’t…Steve….Steve, tell me whad I’m doing wrong…just look over…STEVE, LOOK OVER JUST FOR ONE SECOND AND TELL ME WHAD I’M DOING…I AM pressing it right when it crosses the line! Check to see…Kell-lee, check to see if my thing is plugged in all the way. I don’t think it’s…
…MOTHERFUCKIN’, COCKSUCKIN’ SONG FUCKIN’ FAILED! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS STUPID FUCKIN’ GAME?
THAT’S IT! GET OUT OF THE WAY! ANGIE! GET OUTTA THE WAY…”
***
“…sixshty, eighty, one-hundred, one-hundred-an’-twenny. There. What’s the extra forty for? So you can also go an’ buy a GOD DAMN MIC THAT ACTUALLY WOR…”
***
“That wash fun, eh Ang? We should have those two over for dinner real soon. An’ we are definitely gedding that game. I think I was…say, whad are you so quiet for?”
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