Who Can PlayI tend to throw my doors open to just about everyone, including (but not limited to) friends, co-workers, peers, neighbors, state school graduates, girls named “Stabie”, real estate agents from Venice who know Julia Roberts and Lauren Hutton and Moms Who Drink And Swear. I continue to play the “just about everyone” card since, despite my usual calm, patience and friendly, easy going demeanor, there are still some people who I consider to be the equivalent of a bag of dicks and I’d rather be set on fire than associate with them. People like Steven P. Cook. People like the Kardashians. I could go on, but the Ruckus is long enough as it is so I’ll just leave it at that and trust that you understand who these types of people are. Now, there shouldn’t be any of those bag of dicks people reading this since I wouldn’t invite them to the Ruckus in the first place. But, if by reading the above paragraph you come to the realization that you are, in fact, one of those bag of dicks people, kindly leave. Kindly. Leave. Now. I’m not going to ask again. While you’re involved with the Ruckus, I will ask you refrain from using any of the following words and/or phrases: Crushing "it", ghostriding the whip, hunting the big dawg, redonkulous, wrangle dangle, schtoops, the "donk" show, gettin' right, homeskillet, broseph, brosehpine and sexting. And yes. I’m on the serious. |