Marc
Alright. It's true. We're a tumbling toddler today. We have our feet. We wish we could walk, but sometimes we can't. But sometimes, with help, we can. We can do whatever tricks you want us to. You want funny, you'll get funny. You want nervous, we've got nervous. You want over the top elitism and criticism, don't fret, it's on us.
Nothing serious here. Just wanted to say thanks to anyone that's been keeping up with us for awhile, and reading, and paying attention. We appreciate it. It makes us feel good. Good?
Good.
I think I was in Seattle around this time last year, busting my way through snow, and even escaping across the Canadian border for ten minutes. Marking the only time I've ever been out of the country. Tell you one thing about Canada -- they're Canada Dry Ginger Ale tastes way better up there. Mmmm ... dry. I said it last week, but I'll say it again, we'd been reading the ramblings of everyone's favorite blog artist, Mr. Bob, and thought that it seemed like an easy, fun thing to do. Why not try and start one up on our own? I lived with Zach and Scott at the time, and Jesse was at home and bored, so we just decided to fucking do it. Damn the torpedos. Damn the man. After a few unsuccessful attempts at posting, we finally figured it out and were on our way.
One of the strangest things about back then was that we could never figure out who was reading, and we weren't internet-saavy enough to go and get a tracker. I hate to say it, but Zach and I would be in his room at the apartment, counting on our hands how many people there were reading this thing. "Let's see, we know Quinn and Michelle and Jason do, and I think Rick and Matt and maybe Ryan do, but we're not sure about Kristy, and I know Angie doesn't, so ..." Pointless. We're humbled to see as many people stop by here as there are.
Now, we've got a defector from the defunct King's Nuts, Matt, who definitely adds a bit of raunchiness into the mix. And we've got a tracker, and we know who the hell all you people are. Thanks.
Alright. It's true. We're a tumbling toddler today. We have our feet. We wish we could walk, but sometimes we can't. But sometimes, with help, we can. We can do whatever tricks you want us to. You want funny, you'll get funny. You want nervous, we've got nervous. You want over the top elitism and criticism, don't fret, it's on us.
Nothing serious here. Just wanted to say thanks to anyone that's been keeping up with us for awhile, and reading, and paying attention. We appreciate it. It makes us feel good. Good?
Good.
I think I was in Seattle around this time last year, busting my way through snow, and even escaping across the Canadian border for ten minutes. Marking the only time I've ever been out of the country. Tell you one thing about Canada -- they're Canada Dry Ginger Ale tastes way better up there. Mmmm ... dry. I said it last week, but I'll say it again, we'd been reading the ramblings of everyone's favorite blog artist, Mr. Bob, and thought that it seemed like an easy, fun thing to do. Why not try and start one up on our own? I lived with Zach and Scott at the time, and Jesse was at home and bored, so we just decided to fucking do it. Damn the torpedos. Damn the man. After a few unsuccessful attempts at posting, we finally figured it out and were on our way.
One of the strangest things about back then was that we could never figure out who was reading, and we weren't internet-saavy enough to go and get a tracker. I hate to say it, but Zach and I would be in his room at the apartment, counting on our hands how many people there were reading this thing. "Let's see, we know Quinn and Michelle and Jason do, and I think Rick and Matt and maybe Ryan do, but we're not sure about Kristy, and I know Angie doesn't, so ..." Pointless. We're humbled to see as many people stop by here as there are.
Now, we've got a defector from the defunct King's Nuts, Matt, who definitely adds a bit of raunchiness into the mix. And we've got a tracker, and we know who the hell all you people are. Thanks.
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