|In my own words|
My own words are extensive, elaborate, and entirely entangled. They complicate and confound, bewilder and bemuse, and intelligently intertwine. They maticulously mystify, provocatively permutating in an almost perfect way. But asking them to decisively describe such an atypical adventurer as myself would be ludicrously limiting.
|My Dream Date...|
...would be one of three scenarios: One would involve some ice cubes and a nine iron. Two would involve a buffalo, live or stuffed, preferably stuffed for safety's sake. And three, we bring back some of those ice cubes and switch it over to a pitching wedge.
Sushi, but only the cooked kind.
The Hank! song from that Starbucks commercial.
Those 30-minute-long Girls Gone Wild ads at 3 AM.
Machiavelli. Or the guy who did Calvin & Hobbes.
That one with the guy.
Night Club / Bar
As long as it's not playing disco, I don't care.
The stork. It's how I got here, after all.
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The Red Bull that I'm currently drinking.
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