I AM: The Dude, man.
I WANT: My rug back, man
I HAVE: a rash
I WISH: I had my rug back, man...didn't you like, just ask me that question?
I HATE: Nihilsts and my special lady friend's nympho stepmom...
I MISS: My rug, man, like what the fuck are all these questions for anyway, man?!
I FEAR: Losing my Johnson.
I HEAR: Donny
I SEARCH: What the fuck do you think, man!?
I WONDER: where the fuck my rug is, man.
I REGRET: Filling this fuckin' thing out, man.
I LOVE: Obviously you're not a golfer...
I ACHE: My jaw is still a little fucked up, man.
I ALWAYS: drink and smoke.
I AM NOT: Jeff Lebowski...YOU'RE Lebowski...I'm The Dude, man.
I DANCE: No I don't, man. Do I look like a dancer, man?
I SING: Creedence
I CRY: Hey man, if you're like, gonna get into that whole "what makes a man" thing again...
I AM NOT ALWAYS: Uhh...uhhhh...I dunno, like, sleeping, man.
I WRITE: Like, checks at Ralphs, man.
I WIN: at the lanes, man.
I LOSE: Every now and then...Quintana can fucking roll, man.
I CONFUSE: ...What?
I SHOULD: like, pay rent, man.
The laziest man in Los Angeles County, man. Name's Lebowski, but people call me The Dude. I'm the Dude. So that's what you call me. That, or Duder. His Dudeness. Or El Duderino, if, you know, you're not into the whole brevity thing--
Oh yeah, uh...you ever hear of the Seattle Seven? That was me. And, um, six other guys.
