"Matt is always claiming he was in Vietnam. He's 29. There's no way he was in 'Nam. His dad wasn't even in 'Nam. Whenever he is in a forest, he claims it reminds him of the time he was in 'the war,' and proceeds to check for trip wire. He even went to a VFW meeting. He got thrown out. But, to be fair, he did it to a mason meeting too. The boy thinks that if he brings cookies he can pretty much go anywhere there's a meeting and they won't kick him out. Look out, Avon ladies. It's only a matter of time."
"He pistol whipped my kid, took him hostage, and used him as a human shield in a game of laser tag. LASER TAG! My son is nine years old."
"I heard Matt say that he grew up in the Hamptons. I asked him if he wanted to go take a look at his childhood home, and he gave me a bewildered look. Then I asked him if he even knew where the Hamptons were. He asked what business it was of mine, and then implied that my mother was a prostitute!"
My arms are too long for my body?
I don't know what else to say, and to be honest I resent this question.
In no particular order:
Wes Anderson movies (Bottle Rocket), Saves the Day, Elliott Smith, Descendents, The Queers, Alkaline Trio, Gaslight Anthem, Velvet Underground, The Gimme Gimmies, NOFX, Minus The Bear, Tom Petty, Fleetwood Mac, Alice in Chains, Gin Blossoms, The Menzingers, Beastie Boys, The Melvins, Bouncing Souls...and way more things.
So, maybe I pick you up and we go and have dinner somewhere bla bla bla. But afterward, maybe we go for a drive, just to converse and see some sights. Maybe I look away from the road for a minute because I get lost in how cute you are...or something dumb like that. BUT, in that split second, I run down a hobo. We get out of the car to check it out. You're a little freaked out because you've never seen a dead body before, but then I shake you a little to bring you back to reality. You finally calm the fuck down. We realize the hobo isn't completely dead. So, I bring out the Colt .45 I keep in my glove box...because needless to say, we can't just let him live. Mutually assured destruction, right? Anyway, I hand you the Colt. You're a little nervous because it's your first time. But I look into your eyes, and say, "Sweetheart, we'll do this together." So I put my hand over yours, and we both squeeze off a round into the hobo's head. Together. Then, we make a trip to Belle Isle, dump the body in the river, and that's when I notice the lights of the city reflecting off of your eyes. And that's when I kiss you for the first time. I guess you could say I'm a hopeless romantic.
Thoughts in general:
There's nothing sexier than a girl who says, "I know who FDR is, I know about the New Deal, and I'm going to give YOU a new deal." And then, over a period of years, she structures her sex acts in such a way that they save the economy.
I find it difficult to believe that a Q-tip company has never tried to use "Just the tip" as a slogan...
I think my spirit animal is meatloaf. Technically, this isn't an incorrect statement...
Why am I on here? It's because I'm getting too damn old to keep telling everybody about a made-up long distance girlfriend who I supposedly met at summer camp when I was fifteen, that nobody's ever met because she lives two states away, and I don't visit her because we're just very busy independent people. Plus, the people in my life know damn well that I've never even been to summer camp, and any further perpetuation of this fictional girlfriend is starting to get a bit ridiculous because I'm a 29 year old man.
**If you have pictures of interesting looking food in your profile, I will more than likely message you JUST to find out where you got it. Not to try and date you or glom onto your life or any of that BS. No. I just want to know where you got that food from.**