Tobasco Slim Jims. Peeing outdoors at night. The grass up north. Lightening bugs. Birds. My parents. My friends. West Virginia. Music. Turning people onto stuff they haven't read or listened to. Opening the door for people. Watching people do dumb stuff. Watching people sing along to songs when they have no clue what the words are. Watching guys hit on girls. Watching people tip with change at the bar. Watching Jon throw the change back at them. That feeling when you first start dating someone and think they are the one. That feeling a week later when you want to bury them in the backyard. Knowing someone is dead wrong about something and listening to them plead their case. Cape Cod Salt & Pepper potato chips. Culvers. The ever intriguing world of crotch rocket riders and lowrider/street racers. Drifting? Drifting into stupid, maybe.
Everyone else who, like myself, has a super fantastic outlook on life. As many men posing as 15 year old girls as I can. Holla! Who fucking says that? I just got the chills typing it. Idiots. Another bit of wordly advice: sunglasses are for blocking out the sun. Hence, you don't need them at night. Unless you are using them to prop your collar up, of course. I really, really hate you. So do your parents. So do my parents. So do my unborn whiz kids.
Pretty much everything. I absolutely love the Eagles and any band that wears eyeliner or if you can't pick up on the sarcasm, please clip your nails around me. VH1 Classic is awesome. All of these new psuedo punk pop emo screamo kids...you're not mad at me, you're mad at your Dad. Go buy a Ralph Stanley record and shut your trap.
Ken Block. He has blood and snot on his face. Kobe. Not the rapist, but the Japanese steakhouse. VINDALOO, motherfucker.