You snort tequila off the bottom of shot glasses.
You covertly turn a painting of mine upside down every time you visit.
You called me Hamsteak for a year, just because I asked you to.
You have mooned my camera so many times, only 1% of the photos I have with you in them, are normal.
You used to carry a very large silver spoon with you everywhere.
You have teddy bears in your guest bathroom and an original Picasso in your living room.
You keep me writing, in spite of my sometimes overwhelming paranoia.
You hate, curse at, put down, make fun of and tell most everyone to fuck off and no one, EVER, thinks you are serious but you are. You hate, the world.
You wear the coolest mustache, hands down, total award winning facial hair.
You sat with your feet in front of a space heater on full blast, eating ice, for an entire long, hot, Florida summer.
You are the smartest and dumbest person I know.
You died two years ago; I wish you were here.
You have been to Woodstock and seriously don't remember.
You have enough children for a baseball team.
You believe in and preach the word of God, all while training privately to be a BDSM Dom.
You drove from Florida to to New York to get your hair cut.
You used to watch movies at your desk and sleep with the door closed during work hours.
You have a nickname only because the first year I knew you, I couldn't figure out how to pronounce your real name.
You have raised two kids not your own, who will become amazing adults as a direct result of your impact on their lives.
You inspired my mind to create an entirely false background for you; one with no siblings and parents who had died tragically. I was shocked to find out it was all false.
You are my pixie muse. Your presence sweetens me; your absence conjures magic in my mind.
You made having a webcam into one of my most memorable summers.
You threw an entire table of food and liquor at a woman before getting us thrown out of a comedy club in the middle of someone's set.
You only cook when you have a difficult recipe that requires absolute precision and skill.
You fuck crack addicts in the ass for less money than it takes to sponsor starving children in Africa.
You showed me how to swing dance, kicked me in the head and then pissed on my computer chair, all in one night.
You have mowed my lawn in flip flops and a skirt.
You let me cut your hair with kitchen shears after 4 bottles of wine and then kept the botched hairstyle for months.
You helped me, a bus driver, 3 other girls and 1/2 a platoon of marines drink an entire hotel bar dry before 11pm.
You peed in my bushes and got naked for a lovely midnight swim the first night we ever met.
You have been witness to me having sex more often then either of us care to remember.
You introduced me to wine, cribbage, friendship, and morality; you woke me up and inspired me to live again.
i luvs youz guys.