So, upon the advice of our 16-year old girlfriends, we've opened up a myspace page. Come visit it and ask to be our friend and stuff and junk? If we've ever made you ROFL, or whatever, do it you bitches.
We haven't a clue what we are doing at MySpace, but our graphic designer, who is brilliant, and was once a drummer in a college band that played basements, which made us totally dig her, said, "Get On MySpace! I'm On MySpace, and I used to drum in college party basements."
We've never drummed in college party basements. Sure, we've kicked the shit out of some cocky sons of bitches in Table Tennis, and sure, we've wrecked the knee and career of some up and coming soccer player, and yeah, we've written unpublished poems and novels and short stories, and on occasion we've hit the Trifecta at Canterbury Park, or hustled playing pool, or darts, or won money playing poker in some random room in some dirty hotel referenced by Lifter Puller. But not one of us has ever done anything as hip and cool as getting behind the drums, so we listen to her when she tells us what is cool.
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I met my wife when she was 17, and she owns two drums. Clearly, I already have a myspace page.
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