Latest on twitter:
I've learned a lot about life by making a mess of my own.
Send your love letters to:
thetyping [at] gmail [dot] com
My Real Blog | Tweets | Tunes | The Past
I've learned a lot about life by making a mess of my own.
Send your love letters to:
thetyping [at] gmail [dot] com
My Real Blog | Tweets | Tunes | The Past
"I don’t really know what else I could possibly do. It probably goes beyond football, beyond the field actually. For me, I am not making excuses. I am not going to complain. For me, I just really want an explanation and I haven’t been given one."
Matt Leinart, discussing his feelings about not being named the Cardinals’ starting quarterback.
You want an explanation, Matt? You’ve been a constant source of disappointment ever since you framed your USC jersey—and don’t even pretend that it’s not nailed to your wall somewhere—and posed with the Heisman trophy. You’re not an NFL quarterback, not when I’ve seen Taco Bell workers launch gorditas out the drive-thru window with more power than you put on a football. You were good in college—very good, even—but you don’t belong in the NFL any more than I belong in a job that requires social interaction.
Seriously, Matt, you don’t want an explanation, even though we’re all too eager to give you one. Now could you hold this clipboard for me? I’ve got work to do.
—via albumtacos
I’m going to Bisquit coming here until they discover spell check.
Bisquit. BISQUIT.
DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE?! DO YOU?
So anyway, totally eating alone.
"Will seldom showed any emotion, but she knew that torture victims cut him close to the bone."
Seriously, Karin Slaughter? That’s seriously the sentence you decided to go with?
Here’s where I roll my eyes and debate whether you’re either the most subversively brilliant or the most brain-stabbingly terrible author of all time.
My beloved Kurt Warner emptied his locker for the last time in January, packing up his shoulder pads and his concussion-addled brain at the end of last season. Last night it was announced that he’ll be spending his retirement as part of the cast of Dancing with the Stars, along with superfertile Alaskan Bristol Palin, a Wesson Oil-sweating Florence Henderson, and the remaining shards of David Hasselhoff’s career.
It’s going to take some time for me to process this. I’ve already debated whether I’ll be wearing my St. Louis Rams jersey while I watch the show and weep, or whether it’ll be the Arizona Cardinals one. Either way, there will be weeping.
Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians
“So You Think You’re in Love”
Live at the Cambridge Folk Festival
It’s been an unforgivably long time since I pasted any of Mister Hitchcock’s songs to this site. Here’s the one that’s been in my head all day.
Ted Williams and a grander1 black marlin he caught off Cabo Blanco, Peru in 1954.
1 A fish that weighs more than 1,000 pounds, or roughly the size of late-period Marlon Brando.
"Go shit in your hat."
My favorite line from my second piece of hate mail.
I feel like this will be one of the stories I’ll share if I’m ever asked to speak at a High School Career Day.
Also, my new goal is to become successful enough to hire someone to shit in my hat for me.
