This is a list of the characters that populate this blog or most likely will in the near future. . . .
The Ex: Probably a bit self-explanatory. Suffice to say there are reasons she is an ex and there are reasons why she is The Ex.
My Toes: One of The Ex’s two kids (and one third of my pseudo-kids). “My Toes” comes from a game we used to play when she was 3 years old. I would grab her toes and say “my toes.” She would say that they were her toes. This would go back and forth until she asked her mother who’s toes they were, the answer being “they’re your toes, baby.” When any other person would grab them and say “my toes”, she would say “No, they are my Roctavious’ toes.” Cutest thing ever.
MowHullet: The Ex’s other and oldest child (part two of the pseudo-kids). The poor boy always had a bad haircut thanks to his father. I used to tell him that we would shave our heads into a mowhawk on top and let the mullet grow out in back. We thought it to be brilliant and trend setting. The Ex wasn’t as forward thinking as us.
Gann: Long time friend and arguably one of the best guys I know (considering the people I hang out with, it’s akin to that “being the smartest retard” thing). His one true sin is that he is one of the four men responsible for the auditory assault of ten’s of people every week.
Gangsta Tee : White friend who wears the long “gangsta” t-shirts, which are freakishly long considering he is 6’5″. Another one of the fundamentally good guys that I know.
Lip Sync: Long-time friend of Gangsta Tee. Has a weird habit of seemingly lip synching along while you have a conversation with him. He is rather large and intimidating if you don’t know him. He and Gangsta Tee make up my security team during rowdy nights at the club.
Nipplecest Twins: Pair of sisters that had a part in this legendary (to me anyway) escapade. Not sure they can ever top that enough to warrant individual identities in this blog.
Pretty Eyes: The now three year-old daughter of a friend of mine and the last in the troika of my pseudo-kids. A few months ago, she was in the hospital with a severe case of pneumonia. She was there for three days, a majority of it incarcerated in plastic cube-shaped tent with nothing to play with. I bought her a baby doll to help her while away the time. She kept holding the doll saying “Baby has pretty eyes”, repeating the compliments all the nurses kept giving her. She does have pretty eyes and that’s what her blog name shall be. It’s cuter than “Punk” and “Get out of my house” which are the other things she used to playfully call/yell at me.
Where am I?