My name is Stephen. By now, I suspect you’ve figured that out. If you haven’t, I’m not so sure how you’re still breathing—in fact, you should probably stop reading this and start concentrating on that. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, you probably want to know more about me. You’ve come to the right place for that, but I can’t promise that everything here is everything you’ve ever dreamt of knowing about me—I’m cool with the fact that you dream about me, most people do. I’m awesome.
I’m 24 years old and live in Tacoma, Washington. (You probably haven’t heard of it. It’s kind of a big, tiny, deal. Beliebers hate it. I just brought up beliebers. You should probably go.) I don’t have a vagina, which is good because I hate them. I’m
domestically partneredmarried to some guy named Levi. (He spends all of my money and steals the blankets. One time he ate a sandwich covered in fish and onions and then couldn’t understand why I was gagging when he would come near me—he smelled so bad. He is kind of terrible, but that’s why I like him. He has always been kind of terrible. Cute…but terrible.) I also have a cat and two dogs. One of my dogs is allergic to my cat, and my cat is allergic to happiness. (Oh, you want a cookie with frosting, and sprinkles, and other delightful goodies on top? She will push it off the counter and leave giant cat hair balls in its place. Because she is a cat. That is just what they do.)
Levi, Cat, Dogs, and I share a cute ass craftsman that I’ve furnished to my liking because Levi has terrible taste. He once lived in an apartment that only had an air mattress. The air mattress was in the living room. You know what is in my living room? A sofa. Sometimes we will go to a store with clothing, and he will pick out the most disgusting thing on the rack. I’m pretty sure he does it to make me make awful faces at him while I judge him for his horrible taste.
“Can I get this jacket?!”
“Yeah, I like khaki!!”
“You only wear one pair of shorts…”
“YOU CAN’T WEAR KHAKI WITH KHAKI.”
I couldn’t make this shit up.
I have hobbies. Most people have hobbies. Mine basically come down to photography and reading. Neither of which is cheap.
Why don’t you use a library, Stephen?!
Because fuck you.
I also enjoy some video games. But only socially, and preferably with beer involved. Everything is better with beer. In college I used to hate beer, and would only drink alcohol mixed with fruit juices. It would turn out that I just wasn’t drinking good beer. Although, at this point in my life, any beer tastes better than a 12 dollar drink at a bar. I used to spend like $100 dollars when I would go out, but then I realized all I got out of it was the spins and a mess to clean up in the morning.
Is anyone still here?