I Get the Feeling This Guy Talks A Lot…

The world’s most long-winded and totally odd/pointless initial message. Enjoy:

Hello there. You seem like an interesting character. Let me tell you a story.

When I was 19 I dropped out of college in Western Mass and moved to New York City on a whim. It was a great idea. I was still young enough to think I was invincible, and crazy enough to make it work. Having grown up in an extraordinary rural setting, the city was everything I ever wanted out of life. I immediately set out to find work and kick ass.

On my third day there, I was out job hunting with the buddy who had moved with me. We had taken a break to have some breakfast and sit down for a bit. I was enjoying my street bagel, chatting away and getting some too hot city sun, when suddenly, a shadow fell over me. Looking up, I made eye contact with my very first street crazy. He took this as an invitation to speak, and asked me what I considered to be an alarmingly important question.

“Conan, what is good in life?”

Now, there are many things I don’t know. How to parallel park, or make an omelette among them. But I knew the answer to this question. I knew it without even thinking.

“To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of the women.” I responded. It’s the only right answer you see.

At this moment, the eyes of this homeless man seemed to clear. It was as if he had been wandering the streets of Manhattan for years posing this question to passers by, and either being ignored or not hearing what he needed to. He emphatically agreed with me and left, possibly possessing a clarity he had not known in some time. I like to think that he remembered his way home, took a shower, and reunited with his family. Or strolled over to NYU to see if his credits had started to expire yet. Ten years later, I still want to believe I saved that man, merely by having seen Conan the Barbarian an untold amount of times.

My life isn’t always that interesting these days, but it still has it’s moments.

This is the demonstrating I read your profile portion of the event.

I happen to feel as though the Oxford comma has had it’s time, and now must go quietly into the night. I find myself constantly at war with a lot of my friends over this issue, but what can you do?

I appreciate you like baseball, but I’m originally from New York, and bleed pinstripes. It’s very uncomfortable every time I cut myself.

If you believe there’s a such thing as a vodka martini, we seriously need to sit down and talk about cocktails. Trust me, I’m an expert.

We seem to appreciate a lot of the same media. I have no real follow up statement to that, but I do think it’s swell.

Alright. This was super long. I must go and try to find a job now.

How do you even respond to that?