I’ve written before about how long I’ve known Will and why he’s awesome so I hope he’s not expecting a whole bunch of sappy bullshit two years in a row. Ugh.
Wait, okay. Let me tell you. If you had told me when we met when he was 15 that he’d eventually be one of my very best friends, I probably would have smacked you right in the face and called you a goddamn liar. Or maybe I wouldn’t have, cos I knew he had the potential to grow into a really neat man, and I love when I’m right about shit like that.
If more than a few days go by without me checking in, he messages me to make sure I’m not sunk too far down into a sneaky hate spiral. He sends me links to songs he thinks I’ll like and makes me watch tv I would stubbornly refuse to watch otherwise. He’s my diligent note-taker for this project I’m working on. He buys my kids birthday presents and actually asks about how they’re doing and what kind of stuff they’re into now. He has volunteered to take my place in my family should I die a horrible death (actually, maybe that one should worry me). Whatever. He’s a pretty great guy, and my life would be far poorer without him in it.
Happy birthday, Willikers. I’m super sorry you just lost the game. ❤
(no rules, drink when the birthday boy tells you.)
Blah blah, happy almost birthday to Willikers, blah blah.
You’ll get a real post on Wednesday, maybe.
I was introduced to punk rock at a relatively young age by my step-sister who was eight years older than me, but didn’t even really get into the Ramones until early high school. There was a boy (there always is, amirite?) who was one of my best friends but who I also harboured a not so secret thing for. We made each other mix tapes all the time to share new stuff with each other, and I can still see his shitty handwriting on the case labelling “Beat on the Brat” and “Judy is a Punk” and “S
heenara is a Punk Rocker” (yes, it was struck through like that to include my name).
He came over one afternoon and we watched Rock n Roll High School and I remember thinking it was both terrible and amazing at the same time. It was simultaneously the best movie ever and the worst movie of all time.
Should be a fun drinkalong, yeah?
When oldest was really little, I was on the phone with a friend of ours. She was going to come hang out with us and asked if she could bring her boyfriend. Husband leaned in and shouted into the receiver “Tell her I said ‘NO!’ Tell her I said ‘FUCK Caleb!'”
Kid started running around shouting “FUCK CALEB! FUCK CALEB!”
Husband tried to do damage control. “That’s not what I said.”
“Yes it is, daddy, I HEARD you!”
“No, I said…um, I said FAST Caleb!”
Then the kid screamed “FAST CALEB!” at every opportunity for a week.
(Upcoming schedule has changed, make sure to check it out.)
We probably wouldn’t even be doing this as a drinkalong if I hadn’t had The Ting Tings in my head last week, which caused me to listen to it eleventy times and then send a nine minute cut of the above scene to Heather. She then asked why we hadn’t watched it yet and I didn’t really even have a good reason. I think I said cos it was too new (it seems like movies less than 10 years old [at the minimum] are terrible for drinkalongs), but that wasn’t a real reason.
So we’re watching it tonight. The extended version, which still is only 1:45 – well within the drinkalong length sweet spot range.