Though I can make an entire pizza disappear relatively quickly. And I guess you could say my gleaming smile and winning personality are nothing short of magical. (Disclaimer: After rereading that last sentence, I realize the most magical thing about me is that no one has punched me in the face yet.)
If you're new, hit the follow button over to the right. Much appreciated. (I'm trying a nicer approach to this.)
If you're new, hit the follow button over to the right. Much appreciated. (I'm trying a nicer approach to this.)
My goal in life is for this blog to get so popular that I can copy Stephen Colbert and start every sentence with "Nation, blah blah blah..." Well, that and to own the largest single Sour Patch Kid ever made.
Nation, as you should already know, the final Harry Potter movie comes to theaters this Friday. If I had to show my excitement in one word, it would be "KoihsDFNKLWDVNWajsbgqekrgqpfff". It's like Christmas, my birthday, the first day of summer vacation, and another Christmas all rolled into one. There are two problems though, and I'm really worried about them. The first is whether the movie will really do the book justice. As I've said on many accounts, if David Yates (the director) messes up the final battle and it's not as amazingly epic as it should be, I will order the most expensive and detailed replica of the Elder Wand that I can find, have it to be shipped to me in Atlanta (first class of course, don't want it to get damaged), purchase a ticket to London, take a train to St Helens, acquire the address of Mr Yates, take him to lunch, take out the wand, and promptly shove it through his throat. The second issue is the one that really bugs me. It's inevitable when it really comes down to it. If I described my excitement as "Christmas, my birthday, the first day of summer vacation, and another Christmas all rolled into one" then the feeling afterwards, when I realize there will be no more Harry Potter movies ever again, can only be described as the day after Christmas, the day after my birthday, and the last day of summer all combined into one day on which I also find out Santa isn't real and I have cancer. Screw Friday the 13th, Saturday the 16th is scaring the shit out of me. I don't even know what I'm going to do. Probably cry. A lot.
Recently, whilst home in Macon, Georgia, I discovered an interesting tidbit about my family. As you already know, my mother is a superhero. That's old news. I'm talking about the ancestral family. To be honest, I'm not even sure if I want to share this, but as it's my job to entertain, I fear I must. We can all agree that the The Patriot is a great movie. If you haven't seen it, order it from Netflix, rent it from Blockbuster or Redbox, pirate it, pay a group of homeless actors to act it out for you, I don't care, just watch it. The bad guy in this movie is Colonel Tavington, based on the character Sir Banastre Tarleton, who is otherwise known as "Bloody Tarleton". Once you get past the obvious awesomeness of that nickname, you have to admit it's slightly unnerving. I'm related to that guy. No, not the actor. Who gives a flying shit about Jacob Isaacs. (Yes, I had to look that up, forgive me for not memorizing the full cast lists of decade-old movies in my spare time.) In almost any other situation at all, I would be beyond stoked at the idea of being related to somebody in a war movie. Not so much here. For those of you that aren't getting it, or are belligerently ignorant and disobeyed my command to go watch the movie, here's the long and short of it: Sir Bloody Tarleton was a colonel in the war. The Revolutionary War. OUR Revolutionary War. I am directly related to a leading force in an attempt at restraining America from being free. I cannot explain to you how much this hurts my patriotic ego. Especially after blindly celebrating the Fourth Of July. I feel betrayed by myself. And as if that wasn't enough, the very same day I found this out, my loving mother also explained that I was related to the governor of Arkansas during the Civil War. Needless to say, my family does not have a shining record when it comes to choosing what side of the war to be on. Now please excuse me while I go team up with Ghaddafi and any other clearly losing side I can find. I've got to honor the tradition.
Every now and then when somebody tells me to put my number in their phone, instead of putting Tab, I store my number as God. Then wait a couple days and at some random time I text them "I saw that." Recently I've thought of something that's way better and infinitely scarier. I'm going to start storing my number as 666, then I'm going to text them "Just seein what's up, see you soon."
Fact of the Day: In the second movie, Harry Potter & The Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore has a portrait of Gandalf the Grey from Lord of the Rings hanging in his office.
Shout out to Daelyn Paul.
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