Woohoo: The perfect pitch
Their eyes are bright and attentive like sugar-obsessed tots in a candy store. A choir of buzzing cell phones scream for attention but go unanswered in the dark void of lint-filled pockets. The crowd hangs on to every word you say enthralled like never before.
To say that this meeting for your pitch is going well would be an understatement; you, my friend, are killing it. Your pitch for the company is more addictive than Smurf-blue Heisenberg Meth. These people want a hit of it harder than a right-cross from Mike Tyson.
You’ve crafted a speech so ice cold, dry ice can’t touch it. If they nodded their heads any more than they already had, you’d swear they were listening to the guitar solo from “Bohemian Rhapsody” right behind your back. Dedication and hard work has led you to this beautiful culminating incident. You eat steak tonight, baby!
Boohoo: Pitch Perfect
Oh, for Pete’s sake, people. We just got rid of Glee. Three whole months have yet to go by. We haven’t had nearly enough time to celebrate that abomination’s cancellation. And now we have to be forcibly graced with another painstaking Pitch Perfect film.
This is why we can’t have nice things. Musicals were always terrible enough to experience (with the exception of Muppet Treasure Island; that shit ruled) but now a second shoe has dropped: a capella.
It’s like beatboxing’s crazy aunt who used to gargle with mercury. It’s the only type of singing that makes yodelling actually appealing to listen to. If I wanted to listen to a good cover of today’s Top 40 — I can’t believe I’m about to say this — I’d rather listen to Kidz Bop. Yes, Anna Kendrick is in the movie, but frankly that is just not enough to sway me. So count me out, pitches.
