Mr. Scratchy, Herman.
I swore I wasn't going to do any more of these, ever. They don't get me any results, so you know...but I guess habits are just really hard to break. Lest they are for me.
I'm going to sound more like a nutball then normal, but...I almost had the feeling that you were hovering around the blog tonight waiting for something. Killing time maybe?
And Dimmer needs his own t-shirt. Just thought I'd get you to pass that on to whomever. All the other wrestlers seem to have one, he should have one in grey. But what the hell right?
Right. The nutball wants to see the Dimmer in a grey t-shirt with his name on it. Roll your eyes all you want, I'm fine with that. And just between you and me, what the hell does Rebel without a Cause actually put in his hair to make it so smooth when he does his trademark ponytail? It's just too smooth to be...normal.
Okay Herman, I think your sitting there reading this winding down after work, your chair pushed back against the wall, the front legs of it off the ground, yellow shirt and dark hoodie...no I want to say red bush jacket...no yellow shirt and dark hoodie, dark pants, and you're shooting elastic bands at your buddies as they walk into the room. You're waiting for Rebel without a Cause so that you can grab a drink at the end of the night. Bourbon of course.
You know what else I think...that you made a bet with one of the guys, that I'd do more of these. So I think you're up $5.
Anyways Mr. Scratchy, Herman, I hope I made you smile. I hope I've made you smile a lot over the last few years.
At some point...till later.
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