The night I posed for the above picture, I was at a drag show. Eventually, I forgot I was wearing makeup and mounted my bike to hurry home, since I was dog-sitting that weekend and didn't want the pups to starve and turn on each other, or discover gambling, or get each other teen pregnant. During the ride, I turned a corner and accidentally ramped over a raised section of the pavement, which caused me to wipe out in front of a confused pedestrian in a Doctor Who T-shirt. While in midair, I invented a new swear word: "frulk," which is to date my most significant contribution to the English lexicon. The fellow Whovian helped me up, no doubt baffled to have narrowly avoided being flattened by the Insane Clown Posse reject rolling around on the pavement in front of him. We each checked to see if the other was all right, and, noticing his Who shirt, I simply beamed and belted out a jolly "Fantastic!" before immediately mounting my bike and pedaling off into the night, bellowing "Geronimoooooooooo!" back over my shoulder. The whole thing took about seven seconds.
So that's me: a scatterbrained, swearing, clumsy, nerdy, jolly, out-of-control man-clown. Pleased to frulking meet you.
I'm in a polyamorous relationship with the splendiferous SwimStrangeWater. She's married to the fantabulous NotAnImbecile.They are my family and first priority. Also, they are awesome, and you should date them. Why are you not already? What is wrong with you?
Also, according to OKC's progress bar over there, I am officially done with my profile. Now that I've achieved self-actualization, maybe I'll buy a sailboat or a peace lily or something.
Talking really fast. Observe: Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather, red reather, lellow yeather, yerd realler, leyow yearth- damn it!
If you ask me to, I will write a limerick with your name in it.
(Fun fact: someone once asked me if the "red leather, yellow leather" bit was a "piss and fisting thing." And THAT'S how I learned about handkerchief code!)
A friend once described me as "Doug Funnie meets Gregor Samsa." I'll take it.
I fall down a lot. My friend once told me that watching me trying to get across a room is like watching a live Peter Sellers routine.
More generally, though: tall (forever cursed to see the filthy tops of all refrigerators) and blonde (forever cursed with invisible facial hair). Weirdest first impression I ever got was "cream puff" because of my roundish facial structure, my "bramble of curls" haircut, and my fair complexion.
-Rick and Morty
I like that one episode of Cougartown with Abed in the background. That's all you need know.
For now, the six things I could never do without pants:
1. MC Hammer costume.
2. Survive a blizzard.
3. Store food for winter (in case of blizzard).
4. Smuggle illegal wildlife.
5. Family friendly can-can.
6. Be fancy/smarty/bossy/a liar.
All of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iAUwamHTM4
At this very moment, I am thinking about infrasound. I want to find a space that's "haunted" with infrasound and experience the ghostly hallucinations for myself. For some reason, I enjoy creeping myself out - I was the only kid in my neighborhood to win "Bloody Mary."
Also, time travel paradoxes! An example: In Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, George Carlin's character, Rufus, never says his own name. We instead get a closed loop scenario in which future Ted tells his past self, "Trust this guy Rufus." So where did that information come from?
Ambivalence is the inner curse of the amicable introvert. I love my friends, and I love the crazy stuff they invite me to/make me do, but I'm also just as likely to become a human burrito of comforters and blankets and watch a Sherlock.
-Dean Craig Pelton
I am easier than an open-book spelling test.
I want to invent a travel-sized cleaning kit specifically for semen stains. It'll be called "Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are."
My favorite celebrity encounter is still the time I had a catch with Tommy Wiseau. He says I throw too hard.
And I hate to admit it, but disregarding iconography or "cool factor" and judging solely in terms of efficacy and design, the Millennium Falcon is one of the worst ships in all of science fiction.
And you know what? I LIKE the weird, out-of-nowhere dance number in Spiderman 3. It's the only functional sequence in that entire movie. Come at me.
-Human DNA (tests will be administered, please provide your own blood samples*)
-Strict adherence to Wheaton's Law ("Don't be a dick.")
And that'll about do it!
*If you are an artificial intelligence that has been transplanted from a human body into a machine, a birth certificate will suffice. ...Wait, what am I talking about? All robots welcome!
P.S. Please forgive my excessive use of parenthetical statements (for which I deeply apologize).