I know the Sopranos is SO last decade and you hipsters are all about the here and now. As cho_kettie aptly indicated, I’m about 10 years behind the times where I live. Speaking of which, do you think Saddam Hussein has weapons of mass destruction or what? I think he does. Should we embed a poll?
The Lorraine Calluzzo scene belongs right up there with the best of them (and by “them” I mean everything in the universe):
AND OH — BY THE WAY — NOT SAFE FOR WORK:
Somehow, The 25th Hour popped up in my Netflix queue (it’s got Rosario Dawson in it and she’s smokin’). I put it there months ago and it looks like I finally ran out of shit I care about watching.
Anxious for me to get to the point? I thought so. I ran across this gem — let’s take a quick trip back to 2002:
Let me know what you think Pharro.
You yanks up there in Boston/New York/Philadelphia will shit when you hear this:
TMF’s newest contributor — ginzonyc — is a self-described “Ginny” from NYC and pretty much the stereotypical loudmouth New York asshole. But he’s OUR asshole damnit! Ginzo comes right out of the gate with some flaming hot ranting about Koreans inventing pizza — a true flashpoint for any Italian from the Tri-State area. Expect plenty of more ranting and raving in the coming weeks.
This is absolute fuckin’ horse shit … The Koreans invented Pizza?
Why the hell didn’t they keep making it and selling it? Why aren’t there pizzerias all over New York waiving a Korean Flag? I know why … because they don’t know how the fuck to make it because they didn’t invent it.
Just what I need when I am calling in an order for a couple of pies is some motherfucker on the other end of the line that I can’t understand. You ever order Chinese food? You know how difficult it is and frustrating it is to fucking call in an order for Chinese food? Alright, I know, Chinese people and Korean people are different…Shut up, I know. They all suck at speaking English though.
Fast forward to around the 2:23 mark … Dude doesn’t even know how to say “pizza.” It’s Pee-ZA, not “picture” you Chow Mein slurping fool. @ 2:34 mark- Kim Jong-Il over here says “we are origin of ‘picture’”… no shit. I see you guys wearing your I <3 NY tees every day, blocking pedestrian traffic in NYC snapping “picja’s” of dog shit. Dog shit… I bet thats what your fuckin’ pizza tastes like you sons of bitches…
Getthafuckattahere with this shit. Keep crying about it …. Don’t even get me started on that fuckin’ buy-one-get-one thing at the 3:10 mark. Buy one pie get a garlic bread free? I would like to hear one of those momo’s try and say “garlic”… fuckattahere…… GO GINNYS!
Look, I’m sure just because it’s Monday you think us smart people need to blog. Wrong. Its recovery day and you know that – my brain cells are huddling together for survival. But l figured I would satisfy the “does pharro’s ninja roommate from last week really exist” thirst. Thus I have provided hardcore proof that he does indeed live in my apartment … he just couldn’t get INTO the apartment over this past weekend while I was in Rhode Island.
I get this text Saturday just after noon – keep in mind I will not return to NYC until late Sunday night. We’ll start off with his name, which he incorrectly spelled in his text message. Seeing as he’s only been in the U.S. for 3 years I’m sure his parents really named him Patrick. Whatever.
He did a good job covering his bases by trying to contact both me and my other roommate, going as far as using a P.S, but failed because Matthew and me are one in the same. While we are on the topic of names, I guess calling him “buddy” was a mistake?
I highlighted that I called him this one time and he proceeded to use it in 3 of his next 4 texts. Maybe he missed the “this is Matthew”. So be it, I give him the name of someone else to try, and they also can not be reached. I kinda feel bad that he can’t get into the apartment, but whatever … stop leaving your key in the room and this problem is solved.
Then he threw me a curveball. I’m hanging with a few friends “doing the right thing” when I get his text about living somewhere else and I almost shit a brick. Was it possible that I lived in the same apartment with this kid and we’ll never meet? Did he come back to get his stuff? Did he come back for the toothpaste? If not, can I keep it? All these questions start firing off in my head and I’m really not sure how to take it. Like boom you write a blog about this kid and 2 days later he moves out?
But without hesitation he reassures me “Of course I will still live in #33″ — there go my chances to score some free toothpaste. All in all, one of the weirder conversations I’ve ever had.
So you now realize that this roommate thing is NOT a joke, this is what I am going to deal with. But these texts couldn’t even come close to our first meeting, which occurred sometime after midnight last night and went something like this:
Patrick: “Oh ok, and so, Matthew lives there?” (points to room at the end of the hall just a few feet from his room)
Matthew: “No, I’m Matthew and I live here” (point into the room I just came out of)
Patrick: “Oh and the other guy is where?”
Matthew: “What other guy? Our other roommate lives in that room, you live there and I live here” (Pointing to each room every time)
The next thing I knew he face palms because he was getting confused. I said “have a good night” and shut the door. I really can’t make this stuff up – so I’ll keep writing about our friend and we can enjoy his American adventures together.
Oh yeah if you want to meet him let me know, there’s a 2-3 week waiting period.