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"In the early seventies I attended culinary school where I
was thrown out for my heretical views on oregano, and my
less..."
More about Nils
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Messaging Off[Restricted to Nils's friends] |
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More About Nils
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Occupation:
multimedia designer
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Hobbies and Interests:
Filching, Husbandry, Caterwalling and Surveilance
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Favorite Books:
Everything from A to Z except books starting with the letter G, P and T. I fucking hate those letters.
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Favorite Movies:
I ONLY watch movies staring Ernest Borgnine: From Whistle at Eaton Falls (1951) to The Adventures of Mike S. Blueberry (2002)
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Favorite Music:
Superbowl Shuffle, Muskrat Love, Pacman Fever, anything by professional wrestlers.
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Favorite TV Shows:
Surfside Six, Small Wonder, The Equalizer, XFL
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About Me:
In the early seventies I attended culinary school where I
was thrown out for my heretical views on oregano, and my
less than professional relationship with Mrs. Dash.
I suffer from one of only three documented cases of a rare
form of gigantism wherein over the past two years, I have
grown four feet, 150 pounds and a pair of sharp metal
teeth.
I also enjoy Starbucks coffee.
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Who I Want to Meet:
Freemasons. No Elks please.
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Testimonials and Comments for Nils
days of 8th grade english class in the
hood of Redding CT... Thank God for
Nils- I never would have passed that
class if it weren't for him!!!
love you like "Chinggy," the popular
Hip-Hop icon. Seriously, let's make
this work...He is from New Orleans; I
have yet to go there. Some sort of
powerful connection....CALL ME!!!
party, drank all our gins, pinched a
box of Q-Tips from under our bathroom
sink(thought we wouldn't notice, eh
Nils?) and then kept insisting his
birthday was on New Year's Eve just so
we would have another party and make it
all about HIM! He insisted we call it
NilsNight. He charged all our friends
a "donation" at the door and then
pocketed the money. geesh!!!.....but
mostly, he just makes everybody laugh a
lot. He's nice.
love like a woman.
Along the infield, runners cupped
their hands to their mouths, warming
their fingers against the brittle
cold. I could take the cold, but the
gnawing pangs of self-doubt were
something else. I began to wonder
whether my performance at the '92
Indoors was really enough to justify
this coaching job. Sure, I could run
the hell out of the 800, but could I
teach it? What with all these folks
now congregated for the first day of
practise, half of them sprinters, I
couldn't help but wonder. After all,
the 800 is no piece of pie.
I brought the whistle to my lips, blew
a tart report, and brought this ragtag
bunch of dreamers I'd someday call
a 'team' together for the first time.
Before I could get a word out, one of
them stepped forward: lithe, eyes full
of cut diamonds, wearing a t-shirt
that said: "I'm Nils!"
"Coach, before we get started, I just
wanna say that if we're gonna take
states, we gotta work for it. So when
you say 'Jump,' I'm gonna say just one
thing: 'How fast?'"
All of a sudden, I knew this kid Nils
was for real. Thats why it hurt so bad
when he failed that damned piss test.
We did take states that year, and we
placed three of the top five in the
800. That's never been done before,
and I doubt it'll ever happen again.
Sure, I'd like to think that this pie-
in-the sky rookie coach had something
to do with it. But I'd be wrong. That
team did have one heckuva leader, but
it wasn't me, and it wasn't even
anybody on that team. It was Nils.
Sure, he wasn't allowed to participate
in the meets, and that blasted
principal ended up throwing him outta
school, but he was at every meet,
cheering and hollering just as loud as
he could. When no parent could bring
snacks to Winter Regionals on accounta
the blizzard, Nils was there with
orange slices and cups of grape Tang.
When that old washing maching finally
called it quits before the Semis, Nils
took the whole mess of uniforms down
to the crick and washed 'em by hand.
And when we took states, and my wife
refused to show up because of that
ruckus in the girls locker room, who
was the first person out to shake my
hand? I'll tell you who: it was Nils.
And I'll never forget it.
which means much more than having our
fathers make sweet, sweet love to our
respective mothers on March 31st.
about Nils are: 1) he's wicked clever,
2) he doesn't shit where he eats, and
3) he takes care of his homies. Oh
yeah..that, and its fun to watch him
squirm in the presence of
earnest-minded people who don't
"get" irony. If you think you've got what
it takes, ask him to be your
Friendster and join the legion of Nils
fans.
Would use again. Thanks!
the secret to being friends with Nils
is to laugh at his often humorous
occasionally goofy jokes. Don't mock
him however, he doesn't really love
that.
An ever present mischevious twinkle in
his eye, Nils is the bacon on a BLT.
okay? Fer real yo. I'm missin' him and
his mile-wide personality since he's
been gone. Cheers to you my brother.