rolodextra asked: How tall are you?
Almost everyone who has ever met me after having read my stuff on Cracked has said “I thought you’d be taller.” Because I apparently write very… big?
I feel like such a failure when I renew my library books.
If we date, at some point while you’re asleep I’m going to put sunglasses on your butt, as if your butt was wearing them, and then say “Oh who’s THIS cool butt?” Then I’ll likely hum some funky “coolest butt struttin’ down the street” type music. This is not negotiable.
I want to study everything, if only briefly. Not to be a more well-rounded person or any such high-minded nonsense, but just because I hate that people understand me. Someday, I want to be sitting in a bar with a friend who has known me for twenty years, and they will say “you are not a Tuvan throat-singer.” And I will throat that place to the ground like a Mongolian robot, and they will never fully trust me again.
I don’t smoke pot but I’d be into it if there was a strain called “2-time Oscar Nominee Jonah Hill.”