Somebody to Love

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MY SELF SUMMARY
I’m Hale. I’ve been on the rock for a mere twenty-eight years and I’m lucky to be standing sitting here to tell you about it. It’s not that I’ve lived some razor-blade life playing silly-devils with death on a daily basis – but life, I find, is like a best friend. Sure – most of the time you’re palling around, playing Wii Golf (pretending the controls don’t suck) and making jokes about maybe one day making out hahaha (die inside) but when life chooses not to get on with you, it hurts that much more for it. We’re all survivors. You’re all heroes in my book.

WHAT I’M DOING WITH MY LIFE
Right now I’m writing a bio on a dating site that pretends it’s something a little less blunt, waiting for the pretentious replies to roll in thanks to that pretentious opening. Something along the lines of ‘OMG YOURE TOTALLY RIGHT, LIKE LIFE IS A TRIAL AND WE ARE THE TRIATHLETES’ please, ladies. Other than this quest I’m rocking the nine to five as your local sales superhero, saving consumers from gross overpayments on products they never knew they wanted!

I’M REALLY GOOD AT
My job, I am not. I end up shooting more shit than shifting stock. What can I say? I’m a people person. We people have to stick together – we’re a dying breed, after all – six bil’ and waning fast. When it comes to life skills I shred a mean axe (plastic), wok a good stir fry (chicken) and steam a good ham (semi-obscure pop-culture reference). My Frisbee catch-rate  percentage is up in the nineties and my previous girlfriend told me to keep up the rock band because it turns out my finger dexterity is something transcendental in terms of real-world application.

THE FIRST THING PEOPLE NOTICE ABOUT ME
My mom is at Rolleroaks Retirement over in that tiny corner of our country called Massachusetts, neatly packed away like the rest of my past (mysterious). Her best friend is Abigail (she asks I call her Abby but old people deserve old people names). Abigail hasn’t been able to see for the past twelve years. The first thing she noticed about me when we first met, in her words, was my “shit-eating grin”. She swears it’s always there, inflecting everything I say with a personality she says she could do without. Go figure.

MY FAVOURITES
If we’re talking literature it would have to be the journal I used to keep in senior year. It’s a step by step guide on how not to live my life. Not many people learn from their mistakes. I was lucky enough to write mine down. Musically I can’t live without Tropical Thunderstorms – an hour long cassette tape of just that. I’ve listened to it a thousand times and I swear that jungle is populated with different animals every time.

THE SIX THINGS I COULD NEVER DO WITHOUT

  1. My vast collection of Elizabethan erotica
  2. The answers to all the questions the hit TV show LOST raised… *hurk*
  3. The existence of Uma Thurman, John Travolta and their phenomenal dance routine in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. It taught me, in the absence of a male role model, what it means to be a man.
  4. My biggest fan, my sister, Lynne; I wish more girls had her eyes, because in them I can do no wrong.
  5. The bullet casing that killed my grandfather, fired by my father.
  6. This website, of course!

ON A TYPICAL FRIDAY NIGHT I AM
Writing a bio on a dating site, evidently. If I’m not prostituting myself to the masses you’ll usually find me penning witty yet life-defining adages on bathroom walls and making small-talk with the widow next door when I race home to grab another marker. Some might think I should take more than one at a time but to them I say I enjoy having the same conversation about the young punk across the road and his flagrant disregard for peace and quiet.

THE MOST PRIVATE THING I’M WILLING TO ADMIT
On the sixteenth of December ‘99, whilst the Millennium didn’t approach so much as it loomed, a seventeen year old male, forever known as anonymous, made a move on a young and beautiful substitute Math teacher. A whole four seconds passed unhindered before she managed to place her hands on his chest and push, with considerable force, the advance away. She hurried out of the room and was succeeded the following day by a Mr. Tetton. No one ever contacted, discussed or reprimanded the boy for his actions and – as of the thirteenth of December 2010 (mere days before Kissgate’s eleventh anniversary) – closure has yet to be obtained. This may or may not have been yours truly. (If you’re reading this, Miss O’Sullivan, and you too long for a reconciliation – the epilogue to our own whirlwind novella – It’s me. Lets do this.)

I’M LOOKING FOR
Someone who would see the world with me, not for me, guise-free and limitless. If a relationship had system requirements, 80s movies would require at least a tolerance – if not a full blown love affair. As a rule, those partial to applying the fauxgasm need not apply – I’ll get you there so just slow your roll missy. As that sweet transsexual from Transylvania once said, I’ll see you shiver in antici-

AUTHOR’S NOTE:
One more notch on the bedpost of diversity here at Blame Per Diem. It got kind of deep there, huh?

Oh, and –pation, by the way, for those of you with that itch.

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~ by Joseph Blame on December 13, 2010.

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