WHO'S THAT GIRL?
Now that I've had a chance to suck down a couple of Diet Brown Beverages, catch up on my email, put out several small office fires and hire a dumpster and crew to clean up after the chew toys, I have something to say:
I'm not that guy.
And do you know what else? He's not that guy either.
The critical difference here, is that I never claimed to be that guy. I just linked to the now infamous eBay Wedding dress page, and then cut-and-pasted the "description" for posterity's sake. Those things don't stick around forever, and like the rest of the free world, I thought it was funny.
Somehow, some people thought I was that guy. Some people congratulated me on getting so much money. Others encouraged me to write them. I got lots of LOLs and WTG and virtual high-fives for being the funniest person ever. But it wasn't me. It was that guy -- Who I am not.
Not being that guy has it's benefits. It means I don't have to run a spell-checker on my tattoos. It means I have a real face instead of a blob of Wite-Out from the neck up. But it also means I don't have four grand to drink beer and watch the Mariners, which is a bit of a bummer. Of course, if I HAD four grand, I wouldn't spend it on beer OR baseball. Well, I might spend it a little bit on beer, and baseball too, if it made you happy.
But what I DO have is a basement full of memories. All I need is a witty story and a bottle of Wite-Out to go along with all the junk I own and who knows...
I could be that guy.
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