I am not a pantload...and my name is PEABO damn it!

Peabo Bryson. I’m pretty sure this is the first post to ever start with those 2 words. I could have chosen to start this post however the hell I wanted, but you know what? It’s a Peabo kind of day. If I started this post last week it might have started with Steve Guttenberg. If you don’t know who Peabo Bryson is, I suggest you YouTube that shit, and indulge in the awesomely awful, vanilla sounds of his 1980’s and early 90’s love songs; many of which are duets.

Whatever happened to duets? As a kid they were all I heard on my mom’s soft rock radio stations. My grumpy postal worker dad would always get pissed off at the radio and change the station because of all the “screaming.” By the end of the song there would always be a man and a woman yelling at the top of their lungs, as if they were a couple fighting about what is considered flirting, and what is “over the line” for a man to do when he isn’t with his wife. Like in real life, the woman in the duet is always louder, because women are louder in general, especially when they get emotional.

You may think it’s just a song from a lame animated movie, but when Celine Dion sang “Beauty and the Beast” with Peabo Bryson, she was not only loud, but she also had malicious intent. I like to think the recording session went down like this-

The year was 1991 and Celine wasn’t super famous yet. It was years before Leonardo DiCaprio handed her superstardom on a silver platter in Titanic. To this day she should be trying to give Leonardo handjobs when they cross paths, as a simple act of gratitude. Even though I’m sure Leonardo wants nothing to do with it, it’s the thought that counts.

Anyway, back to my story. I picture her walking into the studio with her creepy old man manager (soon to be husband), with a small dog in a bag. Like all small dogs, the dog is yippy, but this dog is yippy because it hates its owners.

In Celine’s head, she already knows she is going to “own” this recording.  She takes one look at Peabo and thinks, “Who the hell is this fat pantload?” and “What kind of fucking name is Peabo?” From there she treats Peabo like shit and refuses to pronounce his name correctly for the rest of the session. I’m pretty sure she said, “Listen Beebo, I’m the beauty and you’re the beast, and an ugly one at that, so don’t get too fancy with your vocals because my future husband will throw his soiled adult diaper at you.”

I like tangents, so if you’re going to keep reading this blog, you better like tangents as well. Tangents are where all the interesting stuff gets talked about. Normal conversation is boring, but sometimes something pops in your head to divert attention away from boring conversation. Usually somebody is PASSIONATE about the tangent topic, or else the tangent wouldn’t start to begin with. I got this definition of passion from the dictionary:

Passion- noun: a strong liking or desire for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept such as fantasizing about Celine Dion treating Peabo Bryson like shit and then threatening him with her ancient husband’s dirty diaper.

While tangents need not be explained, I feel that a Peabo Bryson tangent is a bit overwhelming, so let me give some background. I recently decided I wanted to start an “F list” celebrity autograph wall. I started looking on eBay for any shitty autograph I could find for about $10 or less. I started with Darius McCrary (Eddie Winslow from Family Matters), and then I moved onto Kevin Federline and Bronson Pinchot (Balki from Perfect Strangers), before the F list celebrity gods led me to the one and only Peabo Bryson, or “Peebs” as I like to call him.