And The Winner Is...

Recently, a poll was taken in which people on the street were asked which from a list of phrases most accurately described Phil.

Here are the top 5:

5.) "I've never seen Phil play the oboe but I assume he's awesome at it."
4.) "You would think someone who knows that much about X-Men would be a lot uglier."
3.) "Phil is the most skilled and passionate lover I have ever lay with."
2.) "Cashmere Mafia was a great show I don't care what anyone says."
1.) "Motherfucker loves cannolis."




Yes, it's true. I'm a man who goddamn LOVES his cannolis. I am a connoli connoseur. I love them so dearly it is physically painful.

But as one might imagine, given my extreme lifestyle, I don't get a lot of good, fresh cannolis.

In particular, I have spent the past couple of months talking about how much I wanted one of these bad boys. I hadn't had one in years, and a television program sparked a desire for one so intense that it dominated all other thoughts and feelings in my heart. I have had countless conversations about their majestic beauty, their transcendant flavor, the unimaginable texture that carresses your mouth for every tender second that this carefully crafted confection bathes you in its holy decadence.

Well, readers. Last night. Last night, by a bizarre series of chances, I was given a cannoli by a co-worker.

For the first time in months, perhaps the first time in my entire misbegotten life...

I was truly happy.




P.S. I never watched nor do I endorse Cashmere Mafia, but after trying to think of a show to use I decided this was mathematically the funniest choice. I think you'll agree.