An overused saying which is supposed to mean "totally sober", although when said this way, it is meant to give people the impression that you are not only drunk (that's why you're slurring your words), but also witty enough to use such clever irony even in your inebriated state. This saying, however, generally misses its mark and instead sounds similar to "I SUCK!" to most people.
Eugene: "I just drank 15 beers, but I'm SOTALLY TOBER!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
John: "Ha. We've got a real tough guy here! Someone get him the badass hat!"
Eugene: "Yeah!!! I'm a badass and you all know it!!!"
John: "You are one pathetic loser."
John: "Ha. We've got a real tough guy here! Someone get him the badass hat!"
Eugene: "Yeah!!! I'm a badass and you all know it!!!"
John: "You are one pathetic loser."
by Nick D July 12, 2004
Get the sotally tober mug.Fucking kickass metal band from Sweden, these guys definitely don't suck. Started off as thrash with a hint of melody and progressed to alot of more melody and smoother sound. First 2 albums were basically thrash, then came the notable vocal change(not in a good or bad way, just a different style that suits the songs well). I really don't think you can compare this band to In Flames, they sound radically different.
Anyways, when they released the masterpiece, A Predator's Portrait, they really gained a lot of fame among the metal community. I think it's their best album next to Chainheart Machine(they both sound really different, it almost seems as it's a different band). People who say this band sold out with Stabbing the Drama are complete morons. In Flames sold out, Metallica did. This band did NOT. Though Stabbing the Drama is my least favorite, it does not suck and nor is it a sellout. It does not sound more "mainstream"(when have you ever heard Soilwork on the radio?) It's just a lot more cleaner and polished. The singer is really tall too.
The first 2 albums are a really good listen to if you are super pissed. The other 4 switched to a more raspier style which has clean vocals now and then. All albums are great.
Oh yea their lead singer left, which really sucks ass, he had some wicked solos.
Anyways, when they released the masterpiece, A Predator's Portrait, they really gained a lot of fame among the metal community. I think it's their best album next to Chainheart Machine(they both sound really different, it almost seems as it's a different band). People who say this band sold out with Stabbing the Drama are complete morons. In Flames sold out, Metallica did. This band did NOT. Though Stabbing the Drama is my least favorite, it does not suck and nor is it a sellout. It does not sound more "mainstream"(when have you ever heard Soilwork on the radio?) It's just a lot more cleaner and polished. The singer is really tall too.
The first 2 albums are a really good listen to if you are super pissed. The other 4 switched to a more raspier style which has clean vocals now and then. All albums are great.
Oh yea their lead singer left, which really sucks ass, he had some wicked solos.
Soilwork Discography so far:
Steelbath Suicide
Chainheart Machine
A Predator's Portrait
Natural Born Chaos
Figure Number Five
Stabbing the Drama
They are better than your band.
Steelbath Suicide
Chainheart Machine
A Predator's Portrait
Natural Born Chaos
Figure Number Five
Stabbing the Drama
They are better than your band.
by Sledgehammer Messiah July 6, 2006
Get the soilwork mug.by gilly-c September 10, 2003
Get the soiled mug.1. a. A dramatic or literary form of discourse in which a character talks to himself or herself or reveals his or her thoughts without addressing a listener.
b. A specific speech or piece of writing in this form of discourse.
2. The act of speaking to oneself.
Late Latin sôliloquium : Latin sôlus, alone + Latin loquî, to speak.
b. A specific speech or piece of writing in this form of discourse.
2. The act of speaking to oneself.
Late Latin sôliloquium : Latin sôlus, alone + Latin loquî, to speak.
Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2:
Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O, vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion! Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play 's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O, vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion! Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play 's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
by Jonny March 30, 2005
Get the soliloquy mug.Somila is and incredibly intelligent young male who attracts people with his good looks and intelligence he has a heart of gold. He is also a keeper and his presence makes people feel good once you meet Somila you don't ever want to lose him
by Amahle khuzwayo July 4, 2021
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- Man, now that is one strange-ass couple. A Reverend--
- And a soiled dove
- Man, now that is one strange-ass couple. A Reverend--
- And a soiled dove
by Ahmad Mansour September 12, 2006
Get the soiled dove mug.Somila is and incredibly intelligent young male who attracts people with his good looks and intelligence he has a heart of gold. He is also a keeper and his presence makes people feel good once you meet Somila you don't ever want to lose him
by Amahle khuzwayo July 4, 2021
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