Resultado narrado por "Tom Cooper" em Todas as categorias

Hotel-room-trashing tantrums? Check. Daddy issues galore? Check. Glitz, glamour and general debauchery? I wrote the f**king book. I’m a textbook bad boy rockstar cliche, and I’ve never claimed to be anything else. Hell, I own it. At least, I did, until he came along: Mr. Self-Righteous who acts more like a priest than a drummer. Now he’s my bodyguard and the guy in charge of making sure I don’t OD before the tour ends. Oh, right. I also have a crazy stalker who’s been obsessed with me since I was a kid. So that’s fun.

This expanded edition of Hall's original 1979 book includes never-before-heard poems and vignettes - read by the author - and new chapters that bring us up to date with Hall as he sits with President Carter, caps his recording career, quits drinking, ponders his legacy, examines the creative process, and retires from the music industry. "If you want to retire, go ahead," he says. "Life will still present innumerable occasions for you to go out and make an ass of yourself."

It is 2109 in Chicago and a double murder is discovered in Ping Tom Memorial Park. Investigating the crime is Frank Campanelli, a blind homicide detective who relies on bio-electronics to see and do his job. Together with his partner, Marcus Williams, a former Navy SEAL, the pair discovers that one of the two victims is the son of the local boss of the Tong, the most powerful Chinese gang in the city. Tensions among the Tong, the other Chinese gangs, and factions of the mob rise as no one truly knows who is responsible.

Though it's a potentially lucrative enterprise, the reality of independent consulting seldom matches the dream. Most solo consultants and boutique consulting firms are perpetually within six months of bankruptcy due to the sputtering unreliability of their new business engines.

I swore I wouldn’t do this again. Mix sports, school, and sex. But right now the only thing standing between me and the NHL is six feet of frenemy packed into a pair of form-fitting jeans that have me thinking all kinds of things I shouldn’t. I don’t just want Kolby. I need him. Because I’ve got to pass this theater class—yeah, I said theater—if I’m going to keep my spot on the team. When tutoring sessions turn into dates-not-dates over Shipley Cider at Vino and Veritas, I realize it’s going to be harder than I thought to keep my hands on my stick and off of Kolby.