you are still missed, mr. adams
Do you know where your towel is?
HIM: That means I have to carry a towel with me all day. Do you think Martin Freeman’s carrying a towel today?
ME: Martin Freeman is such a BAMF, the towel carries HIM.
Let me set the scene: I’m in the middle of discussing - again - my fascination with how gay sex is written in fan fiction…
HIM: What was that term you had to look up?
ME: I don’t know. I’ve looked up lots of them.
HIM: Rogering?
ME (really loudly): OH! GOD! YES!
Fifteen years, folks. Fifteen years…
ME: What? You’ve never seen me give a popsicle a blow job before?
HIM: So…you’re telling me I need a grape flavored penis?
ME: (laughing hysterically, literally crying) You bastard! Now my hand’s going to get all sticky!
the lives of dexter peterson: my favorite songs live!
Matthew’s intros will make more sense if you’re familiar with his latest work: The Lives of Dexter Peterson.
The gist is that there’s this kid who jumps from life to life (like Quantum Leap) and he’s followed by this girl. There’s a novella, a web comic, and the album.
He’s fucking brilliant. And talented.
I’m so glad I’ve crossed paths with him and discovered his music.
And a bonus (not from The Lives of Dexter Peterson) - The song forever known MOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
text exchange with “the chicken is boba fett” (the hubs)
I really wasn’t expecting his response. In retribution, I posted the conversation on Facebook and tagged him in it.
So his grandmother could see it.
After fifteen years, he still surprises me…
and that’s why I let him hang around.
You can call me Wendell. Or Matty. I'll answer to both.
First generation Ukrainian-American.
Slytherclaw.
I run with wizards and play with swords.
I write fan fiction.
Never monetized.
Barely censored.
Keep watching. I might do something.
