Friday, April 26, 2019



* Roger Federer: hello, wait for applause, hello world, don't worry, i know i'm in the Rolls and everything but this is not the film Wimbledon 2: Roger's Revenge. a horror film directed by Woody Allen.

* Roger: um, can i get another Jag? this Jag is black and this supposedly takes place sometime during the middle of the Sorrento Santorini summer,'s gonna start overheating and i won't be abe to turn on the air-conditioning and crack a window and have the roof down all three all at the same time.

* Vanessa Hudgens: is this where the keto bars are being sold illegally? oh, it's not that kind of party? oh, sorry, my bad, i got my instagram dm texts switched. i shall depart now. they're not fat bombs, that's fat-shaming. come on, the Rent thing wasn't my fault. yes i sat on his leg but that was for something else.

* paparazzi: Roger! Roger! when are you gonna win another French Open!? when are you gonna win the Olympic Gold in Singles!?
Roger: fuck you.

* Roger: what's the problem here? this is my favorite type of music: sad trombone.
director: get Rafa…
Roger: okay okay! i was just joshing! isn't there joshing anywhere else but Swissland? jeez, lighten up already, feed a troll Barilla spaghetti every once in a while, be like me, be like Tarantino.

* Roger: what's the problem? you've got blonde twins and a breadstick, i don't know where you're from, but where i am where there's lots of fondue that's a fun night.
Barilla: that's actually the competitor's soggy spaghetti, not a breadstick.

* Roger: i'm out! have been here awhile. did you see? did you see him? Kurt Cobain's here, resurrected from the dead on Easter to join this party, Roger has left the chat, transferring the world into Kurt's capable hands, let him solve this mess with his new album...

* Roger: who are you?
Mikaela Shiffrin: Mikaela Shiffrin. you can call me Shiff, i'm like sweet-n-low sugar in bed.
Roger: WOW! i had no idea who you were! thought you were the missing piece to the blonde triplets. you look COMPLETELY different when you're not in ski gear. have you been dieting in the bathroom? that bedazzled dress is amazing! made of pure Gold Medals i assume? to wrench the knife in my bad back even more?
Mikaela: skiing is a real sport. you can literally die every time you ascend the peak of a mountain. tennis is not a real sport.
Roger: you're thinking of golf. people have died in my sport, remember that tennis player who died right there on the court before the rule change? died from a spasm in his leg, only the BBC kept rolling the tv film. they couldn't stop the match cos it was regarded back then in the rulebook as a lack of conditioning. the guy was writhing in pain, rolling over his ankles all over the service square. Asian fellow i believe. Carlos Ramos was the chair umpire. after that, they changed the rule. hey, this is the first time i haven't noticed your ass. cos you aren't wearing yoga pants.
Mikaela: if i were on a desert island i'd want a...…
Roger: why are they pairing you and i together? like cheap wine and cheese.
Mikaela: Lindsey Vonn couldn't make it, she's still messed-up body-image-wise from dating Tiger Woods. and Picabo Street is starring in the next Avengers.
Roger: hey look, i can do the concerned expression...i'm an actor...of course i haven't had to be concerned much in my career…

* Roger: bow down to the inescapable charm of my James Bond rolling eyebrows.
Famous Chef: i'm a famous chef from...Greece...just go with it. so you're a chef, right, Roger?
Roger: um...…………...sure. why is there Greek music in the background? this is a weird commercial. it doesn't make a lick of sense at all. my agent called me this morning saying i got the part to be Luffy in the new One Piece movie...
Chef: just show the product, buddy boy, strip off your tux if need be. let's get this over with.

* Chef: cooking spaghetti is like twirling a tennis racquet...if you get your fingers caught in the mesh, you're doomed.
band: we'll only play fast if our cymbal guy gets a turn.
Chef: hey. watch it with the long sharp silver knives, these are the ones which slice thin even if you don't intend to. i've heard stories from your exes.
Roger: i don't have any exes.
Chef: purple onions, manly food, this is good for male virility and stamina, sorely lacking in our current culture, that pungent smell, makes a man's nostrils bleed.
Roger: i took one bite and went sterile. cut it sideways or lengthwise?
Chef: cut it like you would volleying the tennis ball in practice.
Roger: i don't volley anymore. my serve is 200mph.
Chef: oh fuck there goes the artistry and religious experience. Roger, whatever you do, never become an ugly American. your worldliness is what's selling this pasta!

* Roger: dice. i mastered that game, too, on the mean streets of Swissland.

* drummer: fuck off! let me drum!
bellboy in blue: those aren't drumsticks. those are breadsticks!

* Chef: pretend ths tomato is the tennis ball and throw it in the ocean.
Roger: that's a basketball analogy.


* Roger: as long as Martha Stewart likes it...
Chef: that's Ambassador Wendy Sherman…
Anna Wintour: it's me, Roger! it's me! don't you recognize your best friend!? we were gonna go on tour together!

* Roger: DON'T BRING THE GODDAMN DRUMS IN THE KITCHEN! look at me smell the wafting crest of steam coming off this hot pan.
Chef: sorry, i farted.

* Chef: put the spaghetti in a fucking small little bundle of ball strings on the plate. little pebble of spaghetti. nobody else serves spaghetti like this but we're Europe goddammit.
Gordon Ramsay: it's small enough to be a dog's dinner! eat my bollocks, you French frog!

* Roger: i got my elusive Gold Medal on my chef-jacket sleeve arm. i play in a college band in my spare time making Pink Floyd watery music. i put a bow on my dish. of hardened spaghetti drumsticks, real drumsticks not chicken drumsticks nor actual sticks for a drums set. all of the spaghetti tastes that hard btw. that bowtie pasta is my real bowtie that i wore this evening with my Bond suit. i'm into bondage. buon appetito!

* guest retches.

* Roger: don't drum on the copper pots, you musician bastards! hey get outta my kitchen!
Mikaela: what are these green things in it? tiny olives?
Roger: don't make fun of my cooking, woman, i'm a motherfucking chef.

* Chef: look at my hair, i'm a throwback to '90s skateboard hair. i wanted to be Tony Hawk when i grew up. i have never grown up.

* Eleanor Shellstrop: did i finally make it? is this the Place?

* Roger kisses the air.
Seal: like a kiss from the rose. don't you forget about me, don't you ever forget about me, blood. i'm in the background again cos Heidi moved on but i can still ball. look at my face, i am the eternal gangsta. add some turmeric, it comes form rose petals. and some seal meatballs.
Chef: that kiss was for me! kiss me, you bastard! i feel bad about my hair. i'm gonna steal a kiss from you the way you stole that U.S. Open when you got a few questionable line calls and the hurricane came in just for you so you had a two-day break the other players didn't.
President Bump: bingo. boom, that was me.

* Jim Courier: what'd i miss...?...


happy weekend, my babies, shit now i'm hungry for spaghetti. but i can't have spaghetti for my Saturday Night Fast Food, that slot is reserved for something special: i'm leaning toward the Wendy's Biggie Bag but i've already had all those items before, think i'll put bacon on every McDonald's item that exists, even the sundaes with the chocolate syrup. Clippers in 7? this the time?...

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