Richard Ayoade of the UK, and of African Norwegian descent, has been my favourite celebrity for some time now. These are some of my fave Ayoade tidbits:
I pulled the folding metal chair; the only chair in the kitchen, up by the oven. I shouldn't have. And I sat on it, but I shouldn't have. And I fried my perogies in margarine. The son of god appeared with his wide eyes and told me they'd be good with sour cream. Yeah, I know but I don't have any. That's okay. They're bacon-onion perogies. No cheese. I might try them with plum sauce. The Bro appeared, checked us out, spied my meal, rubbed his big black belly.
And then the chair went; melted below me like butter. I was eased quickly to the floor.
Not good. My roomies went into action, each took an arm, helped me plant my feet. "You'll have to use all your weight for leverage," I said, "like football players do. Don't worry. I won't let you go." Few understand this. Every student should be shown football clips so they learn how to effortlessly pick people up. They tried. I got to one knee.
"You can do it," they said. I could not. And the knee was getting crushed. I'd have to go back down. The hope drained out of me. All of it.
"I can't." From nowhere the third roommate had appeared. I felt his arms go around me from behind. They all lifted and suddenly I was on my feet.
"We got you," they said. "We love you," they said. My eyes leaked as they hugged me. These men I barely know. The wide-eyed son of god and the Bro and the hairy skinny high dude.
"It's an abusive relationship," says Jerry Seinfeld with regards to humanity and we. "Just when you want to give up on them, they do one nice thing, and suck you back in."
Turns out my supernaturally-noisy neighbours are moving out today! Well yay for me but sorry kids; no superhero crimefighting capers in your future. It's probably all for the best.
Another lovely late-night listening to the stomping charging screaming wailing kiddies who live on the other side of this apartment's paper-thin walls stomp, charge, scream and wail. Making sure I drink in my fill of this joy because it'll be 1:30 AM soon; their usual bedtime. You know, it's not that I particularly wish to invade their home and slaughter their parents before their little eyes. It's just... well... it worked out pretty good for Batman. Could be doing them a favour...
You ever wonder what the very best video on the whole entire internet is? No? How about now? Are you wondering now? Well wonder no more. 'Cause here it is! But it's divided into four parts so that I don't have to pay the YouTube Long Video Surcharge thingamaroo. So it's a playlist. Enjoy. At least until the part that offends you!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tq466K4nIbQ&list=PLtY6xWGmYKvdP0h0rx2CsIguUNqcNFDvb
Seven seasons of Game of Thrones in three weeks.
Binge-watching is such an ugly word.
I prefer to call it... searching for an episode where no one gets murdered.
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