This is a cheap shot and oh so predictable. But I need to pay homage to the latest Interweb sensation and not only an awesome Internet meme in the making but a generous provider of meme material.

Yes, my friend. I am talking about Charlie Sheen. My apology indeed. I know most of you are tired of hearing/reading about Sheen’s latest antics by now, but allow me to have some fun.

For two days now my co-worker and I have been saying,

Duh. WINNING!

to each other when something, um, AWESOME, happened at work, i.e. we have been saying this to each other or playing the sound wav. file a lot.

 

 

Many of you would argue that this man is far gone, that he needs immediate medical assistance. But I read the highlights of his rants and I cannot help but be impressed by his creativity and command of metaphors:

What they’re not ready for is guys like you and I and Nails and all the other gnarly gnarlingtons in my life, that we are high priests, Vatican assassin warlocks. Boom. Print that, people. See where that goes.

I’m freakin’ bayonets. I’m battle-tested bayonets, bro.

I’m an F-18, bro. And I will destroy you in the air. I will deploy my ordnance to the ground.

I wish him nothing but pain in his silly travels especially if they wind up in my octagon. Clearly I have defeated this earthworm with my words — imagine what I would have done with my fire breathing fists.

These insults are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my sabre.

… People that don’t have tiger blood, you know, Adonis DNA.

I’m extremely old-fashioned, I’m a nobleman, I’m chivalrous. I believe that chivalry is not dead, it’s just been in a coma for a while.

I’m sorry, man, I got magic, and I’ve got poetry in my fingertips.

 

And yes, you have all heard this golden nugget:

I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen. It’s not available because if you try it once you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body.

 

And seriously, these gems, if they had not been spoken by Sheen, would have been on a t-shirt or coffee mug somewhere:

Can’t is the cancer of happen.

Dying is for amateurs.

 

There is something to be said about this unabashed optimistic confident outlook on one’s own life and oneself.

I am not bi-polar. I am bi-winning.

I cured it with my brain, with my mind.

The only thing I’m addicted to is winning.

 

To be 100% honest, once in a while, I’d like to be able to say something like this without any trace of irony in my heart:

I’m tired of pretending like I’m not special. I’m tired of pretending like I’m not bitchin’, a total frickin’ rock star from Mars.

 

Ok, so at the end of the day, I guess the above serves as further proof he’s manic–depressive. However it turns out, I am going to be WINNING-ing in the office in the near future. Beats the Sad Trombone that we have been routinely using.

Duh. WINNING!

 

p.s. You can generate your own Winning rant with the Stark Raving Mad Libs (which I found through The Bloggess). Here is mine.

p.s.s. I found many applications for this new Internet Meme of WINNING: for instance, I used it this morning when I found the parking spot right next to the train station entrance empty even though I got there late. It could also be used sardonically to explain what some people were thinking when they said something that made everybody else go “What what?!”

 

 

 

p.p.p.s. You know who gets to say WINNING for realz? Robert Downey Jr. That’s who.