Crunch ButtSteak
I have fallen victim to Rescue Me on DVD. It is bad enough when a new season would actually be airing on television once a week and after the episode is over, you start kicking shit and throwing tables over in such a rage about the cliffhanger that they have at the end of every episode. Well, ever since I received the first season for Christmas and actually decided to sit down and watch it, I was right all along about how this goddamn show is the type of goddamn show where you virtually cannot stop watching at one episode. I ended up watching three of them back to back in one sitting - and that's with me knowing full well that I have to, for everybody's sake, get a full night's sleep tonight before the first day of the spring semester tomorrow. I had to stop myself. It's just as bad as crack. The fact that there is great eye candy for the spank bank walking all over the fucking show does not help me either. Out of watching only three of the twelve or so episodes in this one box set, I have already been considering trying to get the second season because not curing the end-of-the-season cliffhanger is an absolute no. Yeah you're goddamn right - I have seen all of this shit already and I have to see it again. See what I mean?
You're probably thinking, why in the hell have I not watched my Season 1 set until almost a month and probably 3000 hours of sitting around and doing nothing later? I already explained. Because you cannot watch just one episode, nor could you be interrupted. Because bitches would go down. It's like a whole experience watching Rescue Me, it's as though I took a hit the size of Gibraltar and started taped two kaleidoscopes to my eyes. Can't stop focusing on that shit. No can do, son.
When I used to watch Rescue Me and try to catch Denis Leary on TV as much as I possibly could and whatnot, I would [figuratively] shit my pants. I felt as though that if I were to catch every goddamn thing that he does, it would complete my pathetic Asian-American suburban life. I felt as though it would put me in a higher standing above "regular people." And then I think to myself,
I MET THAT MOTHERFUCKER!
November 18th, 2008, approximately 7:35PM - Denis Leary did a book signing at the Borders in Manhattan, New York. While on line, with two people before me, I said to the woman in front of me of whom I bonded with while waiting in line, "I'm about to shit my pants" - all in front of the "authorities" and security guards of what was nothing but a stupid Borders store who thought that they were the shit, because they were having a celebrity come to their place of work and they don't give a shit about it - therefore meaning that they are the shit. Yeah, okay.
So when it was my turn, the beautiful blond man before me sitting behind the table looked up at me, right into my eyes and smiled. He said hello to me and I introduced myself, then he did the same as we shook hands. Guys, I really have to tell you - Denis Leary is a really sweet man. I said it, he really is. Total common sense has it that all of the asshole shit is part of an act, but he was genuinely a great guy, he was really personable to sum it all up.
Now, why the hell would anyone in their right mind want to put a moment such as this to waste by just letting the man sign your goddamn book and walking away? Sure as hell not me. After he politely asked for my name and how I spelled it, as he was signing my book I said to Mr. Leary, "I was thinking of bringing in a Willem Dafoe movie for you to sign, just for shits and giggles." He was about to laugh and then proceeded to open his book and indicate to me that Willem Dafoe is already in the book. It was pretty goddamn funny. And then he handed my book back to me and I thanked him, said that it was nice to meet him as I walked away, and in return he said the same thing and waved goodbye to me as I disappeared behind the man who was holding my purse, thinking that I had intentions of bombing the place and got my purse back.
You dames are probably thinking, what does Denis Leary look like in person? Well I can tell you this - if you think he's smokin' hot in your puny TV-set, in person he is practically in the ranks of well, he has his own goddamn scale, that Denis Leary. He was even more beautiful in person. HOT damn! And yeah, he was wearing his daily uniform as of late - the "Ireland" t-shirt underneath the brown bomber jacket and jeans.
*Note: Entry was supposed to be pseudo-Harlequin romantic. I did that on purpose. Just thought I should point that out, considering the average intelligence quotient of the world's current population is less than the amount of eggs in a single carton.
You're probably thinking, why in the hell have I not watched my Season 1 set until almost a month and probably 3000 hours of sitting around and doing nothing later? I already explained. Because you cannot watch just one episode, nor could you be interrupted. Because bitches would go down. It's like a whole experience watching Rescue Me, it's as though I took a hit the size of Gibraltar and started taped two kaleidoscopes to my eyes. Can't stop focusing on that shit. No can do, son.
When I used to watch Rescue Me and try to catch Denis Leary on TV as much as I possibly could and whatnot, I would [figuratively] shit my pants. I felt as though that if I were to catch every goddamn thing that he does, it would complete my pathetic Asian-American suburban life. I felt as though it would put me in a higher standing above "regular people." And then I think to myself,
I MET THAT MOTHERFUCKER!
November 18th, 2008, approximately 7:35PM - Denis Leary did a book signing at the Borders in Manhattan, New York. While on line, with two people before me, I said to the woman in front of me of whom I bonded with while waiting in line, "I'm about to shit my pants" - all in front of the "authorities" and security guards of what was nothing but a stupid Borders store who thought that they were the shit, because they were having a celebrity come to their place of work and they don't give a shit about it - therefore meaning that they are the shit. Yeah, okay.
So when it was my turn, the beautiful blond man before me sitting behind the table looked up at me, right into my eyes and smiled. He said hello to me and I introduced myself, then he did the same as we shook hands. Guys, I really have to tell you - Denis Leary is a really sweet man. I said it, he really is. Total common sense has it that all of the asshole shit is part of an act, but he was genuinely a great guy, he was really personable to sum it all up.
Now, why the hell would anyone in their right mind want to put a moment such as this to waste by just letting the man sign your goddamn book and walking away? Sure as hell not me. After he politely asked for my name and how I spelled it, as he was signing my book I said to Mr. Leary, "I was thinking of bringing in a Willem Dafoe movie for you to sign, just for shits and giggles." He was about to laugh and then proceeded to open his book and indicate to me that Willem Dafoe is already in the book. It was pretty goddamn funny. And then he handed my book back to me and I thanked him, said that it was nice to meet him as I walked away, and in return he said the same thing and waved goodbye to me as I disappeared behind the man who was holding my purse, thinking that I had intentions of bombing the place and got my purse back.
You dames are probably thinking, what does Denis Leary look like in person? Well I can tell you this - if you think he's smokin' hot in your puny TV-set, in person he is practically in the ranks of well, he has his own goddamn scale, that Denis Leary. He was even more beautiful in person. HOT damn! And yeah, he was wearing his daily uniform as of late - the "Ireland" t-shirt underneath the brown bomber jacket and jeans.
*Note: Entry was supposed to be pseudo-Harlequin romantic. I did that on purpose. Just thought I should point that out, considering the average intelligence quotient of the world's current population is less than the amount of eggs in a single carton.