Post by Bret Walker on May 4, 2004 20:20:11 GMT -5
As Jack Shit of Intense Mutilation would say, "Holy Shiite!"
This has been one of the greatest birthdays in my memory. In fact, I can't think of one better. Maybe in 1973 when I learned to ride a bike for the first time. Or 1986 when I got my driver's license. Or 1990 when I bought my first keg of beer. Or 2000 when we went to the Businessperson's Special at the Vet to see the Phillies beat the Reds, and then to home to watch the Flyers win an historic game in Pittsburg (five overtime periods!).
But no, this one has them all beat. Because on this day, the guys from Intense Mutilation called me at work to wish me a happy birthday. It started like this: I get a call at work just as I'm getting ready to leave. This guy says "Yeah, I'm calling for a Mr. Bret Walker." I go "This is Bret." He says "Yeah, I'm calling on behalf of your wife, Erin {at this point I think he must be a bill collector} who says that you're celebrating your birthday today {um, ok?} and so she's sent you a singing telegram." SO now I'm thinking, wow, cool, a singing telegram. Then he starts to sing: "BILL STERN WOULD SCREW HIS WIFE, BUT HIS SPERM WOULD ALWAYS MISS-ISS-iss... SO HE SCANNED THE YELLOW PAGES FOR RENT-A-UTERIS-IS-is..." All of a sudden I'm like one of those screeming teenage girlies watching the Beatles step off the plane. It was none other than Pungent Vomit, and also, a surprise guest, Jack Shit. I was totally blown away. I mean, Erin has gone to some extremes to get me a present in the past. She even sent a first-edition copy of Drawing Blood to Poppy Z. Brite for an autograph. But this blows even that away.
So Pungent and Jack wished me a happy birthday and we shot the shit for a while, then when we ran out of bullets we chewed the fat, and when the fat was gone we had a nice conversation. Jack had to say goodbye because he was picking up his son, Cornelius Shit, so then it was just me an Pungent. I tell ya, I felt like one of the jet set. Here I was, chatting with one of the New Jersey royalty, Mr. Pungent Vomit of Intense Mutilation, on the phone, at work. It was awesome.
All I can say is, Erin's getting some good love tonight
And then when I came home, there was Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen at my birthday party! Here's a picture of the three of us:
Best birthday ever. Here's to 35 more
This has been one of the greatest birthdays in my memory. In fact, I can't think of one better. Maybe in 1973 when I learned to ride a bike for the first time. Or 1986 when I got my driver's license. Or 1990 when I bought my first keg of beer. Or 2000 when we went to the Businessperson's Special at the Vet to see the Phillies beat the Reds, and then to home to watch the Flyers win an historic game in Pittsburg (five overtime periods!).
But no, this one has them all beat. Because on this day, the guys from Intense Mutilation called me at work to wish me a happy birthday. It started like this: I get a call at work just as I'm getting ready to leave. This guy says "Yeah, I'm calling for a Mr. Bret Walker." I go "This is Bret." He says "Yeah, I'm calling on behalf of your wife, Erin {at this point I think he must be a bill collector} who says that you're celebrating your birthday today {um, ok?} and so she's sent you a singing telegram." SO now I'm thinking, wow, cool, a singing telegram. Then he starts to sing: "BILL STERN WOULD SCREW HIS WIFE, BUT HIS SPERM WOULD ALWAYS MISS-ISS-iss... SO HE SCANNED THE YELLOW PAGES FOR RENT-A-UTERIS-IS-is..." All of a sudden I'm like one of those screeming teenage girlies watching the Beatles step off the plane. It was none other than Pungent Vomit, and also, a surprise guest, Jack Shit. I was totally blown away. I mean, Erin has gone to some extremes to get me a present in the past. She even sent a first-edition copy of Drawing Blood to Poppy Z. Brite for an autograph. But this blows even that away.
So Pungent and Jack wished me a happy birthday and we shot the shit for a while, then when we ran out of bullets we chewed the fat, and when the fat was gone we had a nice conversation. Jack had to say goodbye because he was picking up his son, Cornelius Shit, so then it was just me an Pungent. I tell ya, I felt like one of the jet set. Here I was, chatting with one of the New Jersey royalty, Mr. Pungent Vomit of Intense Mutilation, on the phone, at work. It was awesome.
All I can say is, Erin's getting some good love tonight
And then when I came home, there was Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen at my birthday party! Here's a picture of the three of us:
Best birthday ever. Here's to 35 more
