maybe david has a middle name

anonymous asked:

Wait do you have any Andrew facts?? (Even though I fucking love Ross with all my heart)

-middle name is david!!

-runs marathons

-is a cutie

-is a grammy nominated producer

-may or may not have a very tiny, very small, very sleepy puppy

-born 7lbs, 11 ½ oz

-used to (maybe he still does idk) drive to connecticut every weekend and visit ross at his lab

-has a really cool brother

-is zubin’s favorite tally

-his favorite color is blue!

-says he’s 5′10, is more likely 5′8-5′9

-began piano studies at 5, and composing at 8

-studied with staff at the at juiliard in high school (idk if that’s how you spell juliard or whatever the fuck)

-played piano with the New York Youth Symphony which is extremely hard to get into. 

-led an active jazz quartet

-musical directed for several musical theatre productions,

-is a freelance pianist

-graduated u of m in 2005 with a double degree in Music Composition and English Language and Literature

(i’m starting to just copy paste from the wiki. i’ll stop now)

-named his most recent solo album/project “edu” which is how he pronounced “andrew” as a baby (it also means “success” in estonian but,,,that’s besides the point)

-has the warmest and most adorable brown eyes

-in his words, he likes “ice-cream, girls, indie flicks, laughter, smiles, the sky”

-plays a mean tambourine and meaner maracas

-was roommates with rob, which is how he became a part of the band

-was a musical journalist for Michigan Daily!!

-loves (loved?) saying “awesome” and “splendid”

-his favorite finger is the fourth finger on left hand (which is also the finger stereotypically used to wear your wedding ring/wedding band on but. yknow. whatever i guess right?)

-uh

-has had the same green sweater from when he was 19 to now so. that’s like a long time.

-is a huge cutie (but you probably already knew that

D Para David

“Your name is David, dah-veed,” mamá explains before his first day of kindergarten. “Su nombre no es Day-vid o Dave o Davy. Es dah-veed. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Sí mamá,” he murmurs nervously. He plays with the strap of his new mochila as he wonders what she means. Or rather, why does it matter how they say his name?

Nonetheless, he repeats it to everyone. He corrects every teacher, every substitute, every new friend and playmate. It’s dah-veed, he insists. And really, the repetition doesn’t bother him.

Keep reading