http://theplaylistproject.tumblr.com/post/503357975/travisandrews
Full of typos, I know. I typed it quickly and don't have access to the site. : ( Oh well.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Sneaux, Sneaux Everywhere (Re: Baton Rouge, NOLA, Chicago, DC, NYC, Dallas, et al)
Before I begin, I warn you that this post has no point.
I realized I needed to update. It's been a crazy few days. Well, not that crazy (been sicker than I can remember being in recent memory).
Two things have happened that seem to matter.
A) Dem Who Dats took dat trophy home. Can't beat that with a stick! Fantastic!
It really was a game and a half, and when Porter snatched up ole' Peyton's pass and started prancin' and dancin' down that field, woo boy. Life was good again.
B) Snow. Everywhere. Baton Rouge has it's sneaux. The lineup of the All-Star game in Dallas is changing because of the snow (via a tweet by Bill Simmons). DC ain't seen the light of day for a while now. NYC is still whiny about it. And Chicago has had it's good bit, but whatever. None of us are going anywhere. NOLA got some snow just in time for Mardi Gras. Sounds kind of like a blast.
Anyway, Saint'll will the Superbowl when Hell freezes over.
Guess that's happening.
I'll do better in the future.
I realized I needed to update. It's been a crazy few days. Well, not that crazy (been sicker than I can remember being in recent memory).
Two things have happened that seem to matter.
A) Dem Who Dats took dat trophy home. Can't beat that with a stick! Fantastic!
It really was a game and a half, and when Porter snatched up ole' Peyton's pass and started prancin' and dancin' down that field, woo boy. Life was good again.
B) Snow. Everywhere. Baton Rouge has it's sneaux. The lineup of the All-Star game in Dallas is changing because of the snow (via a tweet by Bill Simmons). DC ain't seen the light of day for a while now. NYC is still whiny about it. And Chicago has had it's good bit, but whatever. None of us are going anywhere. NOLA got some snow just in time for Mardi Gras. Sounds kind of like a blast.
Anyway, Saint'll will the Superbowl when Hell freezes over.
Guess that's happening.
I'll do better in the future.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Some Things I Like and And Your Hunter S. Thompson Friday Quote
So J.D. Salinger is dead. You may have heard. I was going to link a news story here, but I'm sure you're sick of it.
So let's be irresponsible.
Here's one of the best Onion shorts ever, great for anyone who has read Catcher in the Rye, which is probably everyone.
Now, in poor blogger form, is a random jump to one my favorite performances ever. That will be followed by your Hunter S. Thompson Friday quote!
This video is one of the most passionate, insane performances I've ever seen. It's old. You've probably seen it. But when Julian Casablancas swats his microphone to the ground and angrily saunters off before coming back just in time to rip his vocal cords raw for the closing lines ... well, rock music (to me) doesn't get much better than those moments. Take a look:
Finally, here's your Hunter S. Thompson quote to close out the week. Love you all.
"Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish — a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow — to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested...
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll."
So let's be irresponsible.
Here's one of the best Onion shorts ever, great for anyone who has read Catcher in the Rye, which is probably everyone.
Now, in poor blogger form, is a random jump to one my favorite performances ever. That will be followed by your Hunter S. Thompson Friday quote!
This video is one of the most passionate, insane performances I've ever seen. It's old. You've probably seen it. But when Julian Casablancas swats his microphone to the ground and angrily saunters off before coming back just in time to rip his vocal cords raw for the closing lines ... well, rock music (to me) doesn't get much better than those moments. Take a look:
Finally, here's your Hunter S. Thompson quote to close out the week. Love you all.
"Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish — a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow — to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested...
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll."
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Geaux Mom: Why the Saints Matter in Way that isn't Football
I am incredibly proud of my mother.
She e-mailed me a video. That's huge in and of itself.
But here's the video. Great reminder of why the Saints are more than a football team, of what we all miss about the city (those of us who had to move away), and where it's headed. This is the reason Matt and I predict everyone will end up back there at some point, maybe some of us even bringing more people.
Goodnight.
She e-mailed me a video. That's huge in and of itself.
But here's the video. Great reminder of why the Saints are more than a football team, of what we all miss about the city (those of us who had to move away), and where it's headed. This is the reason Matt and I predict everyone will end up back there at some point, maybe some of us even bringing more people.
Goodnight.
Wanna slow dance to Celine Dion then make out behind the gym (after taking out our rubber bands)?
I'm so excited about this playlist, this whole post is a link to it.
I put a lot of work into recreating a nice old sock hop/boy-girl party.
Gotta give credit to Hayley, Kristin and Danny for helping me with some song choices, and Danny for the rubber band part of the title, which is vital.
Best to not look at the songs, and just listen all the way through.
I put a lot of work into recreating a nice old sock hop/boy-girl party.
Gotta give credit to Hayley, Kristin and Danny for helping me with some song choices, and Danny for the rubber band part of the title, which is vital.
Best to not look at the songs, and just listen all the way through.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Feb 7 Will be a Black and Gold Wonderland
Sometimes, winning feels nice.
Sometimes, winning feels great.
Sometimes, winning feels like a powder keg of hopes, dreams and finally vengeance for 42 years of doing the opposite.
Sometimes, you respect your opponent.
Sometimes, you almost feel bad for your opposent you have so much respect for them.
Sometimes, you want to watch them cry and squirm and rubbing their faces into the hard dirt ground feels a tad bit like heaven.
Beating the Vikings was more akin to the powder keg and hard dirt ground scenarios. Forty-two years we waited for this, and we are in the Superbowl.
Amazing, but there's nothing I can say that won't be said a thousand times by all of you.
But I can share Minnesota's somewhat pathetic attempts at excuses (apparently the whole city took on the mentality of that sad sack they have quarterbacking: Mr. Brett Favre, whose name was only mentioned about 46 times last night, including an awful, awful spot on Kiln, Miss). My favorite whiny excuse.
All that unsportsmanlike behavior aside: Who dat! It's our year. And I'll be watching from this northern ice land in my Vilma jersey and when we take that trophy, I'll be dancing in the streets just like I really am at the corner of LaSalle and Rampart.
Sometimes, winning feels great.
Sometimes, winning feels like a powder keg of hopes, dreams and finally vengeance for 42 years of doing the opposite.
Sometimes, you respect your opponent.
Sometimes, you almost feel bad for your opposent you have so much respect for them.
Sometimes, you want to watch them cry and squirm and rubbing their faces into the hard dirt ground feels a tad bit like heaven.
Beating the Vikings was more akin to the powder keg and hard dirt ground scenarios. Forty-two years we waited for this, and we are in the Superbowl.
Amazing, but there's nothing I can say that won't be said a thousand times by all of you.
But I can share Minnesota's somewhat pathetic attempts at excuses (apparently the whole city took on the mentality of that sad sack they have quarterbacking: Mr. Brett Favre, whose name was only mentioned about 46 times last night, including an awful, awful spot on Kiln, Miss). My favorite whiny excuse.
All that unsportsmanlike behavior aside: Who dat! It's our year. And I'll be watching from this northern ice land in my Vilma jersey and when we take that trophy, I'll be dancing in the streets just like I really am at the corner of LaSalle and Rampart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
