Hate? What do I hate? Who do I hate? The answer lies in our blog administrator….
Well, hate is a strong word but it gives the title that extra zing. Speaking of zing, let me tell you about this guy I know named Phil and why we are even friends. So I meet this kid when he was 15, whist I was 18 (and had a killer stache, but that’s another blog). We started off hating each other (truth be told it was on my end because I’m a bitter asshole). So we are at lame graduation party, wasted eating cake. The party ends, I hear of an after party, and inquire about going. I am greeted with a, “Shut the fuck up!” Of course it was from Phil. I brood in silence. I hate this punk. I just wanted to go to the after party. We never went to that after party and Phil would be a major part of what would be the best summer of my life (2001: A 4B Odyssey or the Summer of Love, whichever you wish). Our mutual love of good hip-hop, amputee boxing (remember that?), girls, CKY and Jackass-related forms of comedy, underage drinking (and other forms of getting wasted), and Jiminy Glick (I still can’t say the word “wonderful” without doing a raspy Glick voice) gave us a wonderful common ground for a prosperous and treacherous friendship.
So in the years that followed, Phil dressed really preppy, killed a lot of brain cells, and eventually wound up in a boys’ reform school (as we still call it Bad Kids’ Camp). We were decent friends, but at this point, I really wouldn’t care if the guy ran off to Mexico and started banging cattle. Soon he moved a mere 10 minutes away from me and it’s been great times, but we have got to hate on the shmuck. So, let’s get to just some of his many phases:
Sure, there’s been preppy (previously alluded to), occupational (shit, everyone wants to be something awesome until they realize what a loser they really are, Phil was no exception), line cook, snowboarder, and my personal favorite…METAL.
Sometime in the year 2005, Phil decided, “Fuck brody, I don’t just like metal I LOVE ITITIT!!!” Thus, a new Phil was born. Watching Phil lose his mind (and hair in the form of a mohawk) into a phenomenal genre of music, while temporary roommate Jay had to deal with this and sweep up Phil’s excess man-hair was a hilarious site to behold. In fact, it should have been a sitcom. It would have been the millennium version of Perfect Strangers. Speaking of Perfect Strangers, I think that could some up both of us in terms of our love of metal. I am Larry, calm, quiet, knowledgeable fan of metal, with an incredibly short fuse. Phil is Balki, an idiot. Looks and dresses stupid (ugh, those Travis Barker hoodies, come on Phil), but heart is in the right place. I digress, so there are many ways to show your love of heavy metal. You can really love the music, start a band and have the ballsy idea to make that your job forever while being a success. You can also just be a really big fan, write for a magazine, or have a semi-serious, yet light-hearted band (Tenacious D). Or you can be Phil and make the proclamation that you simply ARE metal without actually winning any actual contests or awards to prove so. Instead, he’s managed to obnoxiously rub it in all of his remaining friends’ faces and play music as loudly as possible. Do I think Phil is metal? Absolutely, if by metal you mean being born with a Silver Spoon in you mouth. But I guess by that way of thinking, Ricky Schroader is metal too. Ah, but wait tattoos make the metal and Phil’s got ‘em. Ask him how he paid for them and maybe you’ll get one too (when daddie comes back from the colonies, meh). So is this “metal” thing just a phase? If it still annoys my other friends and he stays true to the form, I sincerely hope it’s his way of life.
So, it is a new year, and a new phase must come. It has and it is in the form of snowboarding. I think snowboarding looks really fun and takes a degree of patience and skill to master (not as much athleticism as our tubby administrator would have you believe). So a couple of his old friends have moved away and thus, the snowboarding circle of trust has opened up a spot. Phil has jumped at the chance like a homeless dog in heat and is now a snowboarder this year. Sure, I’ve made fun of the boy for “shredding,” but it is because he deserves it for mentioning it every five minutes. Do I care? Not so much. Am I jealous? I am as jealous of snowboarders as much as I am jealous of firefighters. I don’t like too much heat and I don’t like too much cold. I am a rather lukewarm individual. Since this is a hate blog and not a bitch blog (and pretty much the only ones that read this are Phil and some other guy anyway), let’s safely tuck this blogredy up. Phil…
He’s a jerk. He’s out of shape. He gave me LESS food when he was a line cook at a local rib joint. He’ll shower only when he has too. His driving scares all my other friends. You stand the chance of getting arrested just hanging out with him. He listens to music too loudly and doesn’t care about your headache. He controls the TV like a modern day Hitler. He’s an Atheist. He talks too loud. He eats too much. He’s lazy. He’s unemployed most of the time. He never has much cash on him, but stands to inherit millions. He’ll tell you what an awesome time he had when you weren’t there…and painstakingly regurgitate every last detail of said “awesome time.” Yet I trust him with my life. He is one of my best friends. I guess the biggest compliment I can pay him is that I wrote a hateblog on him. Phil, I hate your guts like a brother. God bless. Oh, wait that Atheist thing, Bob Denver was an Atheist too, so Gilligan Bless.
Don’t worry Johnnyboy, you’ll get yours one day too…