My 20-Sided-Diet, or , Supersize Me (on my character sheet)

I thought looking for people who willingly play Dungeons and Dragons would be easy. I see kids with long hair wearing Rush shirts all the time. The ones who don’t make eye contact through their Chris Murphy-esque glasses- but no. Television shows depicting ‘geeks’, ‘nerds’, and ‘dweebs’ have developed a vicious misconception about who to trust as DungeonMaster.

Feed Me Back, or, GWOOOOOORRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMUH

I’ve haven’t been this hungry since I last lived in a tent for an undetermined length of time. I think its one part phantom pains brought on by a lack of food cooked in a school bus, and one part meth-addict-esque metabolism brought on by drafting behind busses in rush-hour traffic. My tum sounds like My Bloody Valentine.

Offtime Beats, or, Whichever Weigh

These fifty-eight words have been hard to come by, lately. The long and the short of it: I’ve taken to wearing spandex and manufacturing a backup identity in case something goes awry (it very well may). Those two things aren’t entirely unrelated. I can handle grease burns a lot easier than I can handle most conversations these days.