A letter to Helen Skor
Hello Helen Skor,
My name is Doug and I write stuff. I also read stuff. I happened upon your blog and got to read your article “I'm Looking For A Few Good Men.”
I am a married dude, so I’m not looking for love. But I do write a lot of made up stuff about relationships and was very interested in reading what you were looking for in a man and what perks you had to offer him.
The first half of the article is wonderful. I suggest that every girl have this type of list in her pocket so that we can cut out the two weeks of fake, relationship chit chat. Your list is clever, straight forward and would quickly weed out the schmucks at the local bar or book store. (Guys don’t carry a list because to be a list, it needs to have more than one thing on it.)
It’s the perks section that I think you need to rehash. I feel like I am qualified to review and edit your “perks” as 1) I am a dude and 2) I have a keen sense of what dudes look for in a chick besides banging her and then, possibly, her friend.
Please do not read this as a critique, but rather some subtle suggestions. I mean really, what the hell do I know anyways?
• Massages – I love to give massages . . . your back, your arms and hands, your legs, even your face. Making you happy makes me happy.
Guys like massages, so you’ve got some bonus points there. Just as long as the massage is followed up by “additional attention.” Guys are trained to get a massage and then “get a massage.”
But the phrase, “Making you happy makes me happy” is creeping me and most other men out. Perhaps the guy you are looking for would not get frazzled at that statement and he is a much better man that I will ever be.
I see the phrase “Making you happy makes me happy” being said by a wide-eyed woman holding a dead rabbit. RUN!!!
• Home-Cooked Meals – Whether it’s in the kitchen or on the grill, I love to cook for you, and I’m pretty darned good at it.
Guys like to eat. If you can cook, awesome. I am the grill person in the family. Oh yeah, I’m also the cook person, too. I do like to cook, but a chick who can run a grill gets points in my book.
• Intelligence – I don’t claim to be Mensa smart, but I can hold my own with most people. That means that you won’t have to be worried about me saying something utterly embarrassing at your company Christmas party.
I do not like women that are smarter than me because they can see through all my bullshit. Miss Sally is a lot smarter than me, but she has learned several non-verbal techniques to shut me up without embarrassing me.
I like a girl who will beat me at Scrabble, but not mention it at the Christmas party.
• Wit - I will make you laugh. I promise.
I cannot really comment on this because I am the funny guy in my relationship and my wife never laughs at my jokes. You think that would be a problem, but it only makes me try harder.
If you are always making a man laugh, he is just trying to get you in the sack. Find a man who will criticize your humor and make you do re-writes of your material.
BUT! The "I promise" part is, once again, creepy. Again with the wide eyes and rabbit. I WILL MAKE YOU LAUGH!!! It doesn't sound desperate, but it hints at it.
• Fortitude – I’m tough. I don’t need you to kill bugs, trap mice, build fires, or hang pictures. I can do all these things myself. But I WILL let you do them for me if I know it makes you happy.
Don’t ever suggests to a guy that he is doing something for you that you could take care of yourself, but you are letting him do it to make him feel manly. Unless you are genuinely scared of a picture falling off the wall, starting a fire and releasing a hoard of termites from the frame, don’t pretend like you are in a tower with really long hair. Guys like to do stuff for girls, but don’t patronize us.
• Age – I’m 31, which means that a very important period of my life is right around the corner. I’ve got two words for you, Mister: Sexual Prime. I’m about to hit my stride, so now’s a good time to get in on the action (pun intended).
Men could easily mistake that important time around the corner as “my biological clock is ticking.” I would just ditch the AGE and replace it with SEX – I like to fuck.
• Loyalty - I don't cheat. If we get to the point in our relationship that I feel like I need to be with somebody else, I'm going to end things with you first, because there are obviously larger issues in our relationship. One of the worst things you can do to another person is violate their trust. I'm fiercely loyal to my lovers, my friends, and my family.
For some reason, I like to hear that a chick would dump me as soon as she starts to dislike me. I like to know that you would not try to fix my faults. Too many bad relationships get worse because of enablers. I like the “dump the chump” attitude.
• Smelly – I have the world’s sweetest dog. And although she needs a lot of attention, she also has a lot of love to give.
It’s tough to bring a dog into a relationship. They are like two year old stepkids. With a name like Smelly… good luck!
There’s my two cents. Good luck in your search for a man. In my opinion, I think you would be best to just love Smelly and get laid on the weekends.
Signed,
Doug (HolyJuan)
My name is Doug and I write stuff. I also read stuff. I happened upon your blog and got to read your article “I'm Looking For A Few Good Men.”
I am a married dude, so I’m not looking for love. But I do write a lot of made up stuff about relationships and was very interested in reading what you were looking for in a man and what perks you had to offer him.
The first half of the article is wonderful. I suggest that every girl have this type of list in her pocket so that we can cut out the two weeks of fake, relationship chit chat. Your list is clever, straight forward and would quickly weed out the schmucks at the local bar or book store. (Guys don’t carry a list because to be a list, it needs to have more than one thing on it.)
It’s the perks section that I think you need to rehash. I feel like I am qualified to review and edit your “perks” as 1) I am a dude and 2) I have a keen sense of what dudes look for in a chick besides banging her and then, possibly, her friend.
Please do not read this as a critique, but rather some subtle suggestions. I mean really, what the hell do I know anyways?
• Massages – I love to give massages . . . your back, your arms and hands, your legs, even your face. Making you happy makes me happy.
Guys like massages, so you’ve got some bonus points there. Just as long as the massage is followed up by “additional attention.” Guys are trained to get a massage and then “get a massage.”
But the phrase, “Making you happy makes me happy” is creeping me and most other men out. Perhaps the guy you are looking for would not get frazzled at that statement and he is a much better man that I will ever be.
I see the phrase “Making you happy makes me happy” being said by a wide-eyed woman holding a dead rabbit. RUN!!!
• Home-Cooked Meals – Whether it’s in the kitchen or on the grill, I love to cook for you, and I’m pretty darned good at it.
Guys like to eat. If you can cook, awesome. I am the grill person in the family. Oh yeah, I’m also the cook person, too. I do like to cook, but a chick who can run a grill gets points in my book.
• Intelligence – I don’t claim to be Mensa smart, but I can hold my own with most people. That means that you won’t have to be worried about me saying something utterly embarrassing at your company Christmas party.
I do not like women that are smarter than me because they can see through all my bullshit. Miss Sally is a lot smarter than me, but she has learned several non-verbal techniques to shut me up without embarrassing me.
I like a girl who will beat me at Scrabble, but not mention it at the Christmas party.
• Wit - I will make you laugh. I promise.
I cannot really comment on this because I am the funny guy in my relationship and my wife never laughs at my jokes. You think that would be a problem, but it only makes me try harder.
If you are always making a man laugh, he is just trying to get you in the sack. Find a man who will criticize your humor and make you do re-writes of your material.
BUT! The "I promise" part is, once again, creepy. Again with the wide eyes and rabbit. I WILL MAKE YOU LAUGH!!! It doesn't sound desperate, but it hints at it.
• Fortitude – I’m tough. I don’t need you to kill bugs, trap mice, build fires, or hang pictures. I can do all these things myself. But I WILL let you do them for me if I know it makes you happy.
Don’t ever suggests to a guy that he is doing something for you that you could take care of yourself, but you are letting him do it to make him feel manly. Unless you are genuinely scared of a picture falling off the wall, starting a fire and releasing a hoard of termites from the frame, don’t pretend like you are in a tower with really long hair. Guys like to do stuff for girls, but don’t patronize us.
• Age – I’m 31, which means that a very important period of my life is right around the corner. I’ve got two words for you, Mister: Sexual Prime. I’m about to hit my stride, so now’s a good time to get in on the action (pun intended).
Men could easily mistake that important time around the corner as “my biological clock is ticking.” I would just ditch the AGE and replace it with SEX – I like to fuck.
• Loyalty - I don't cheat. If we get to the point in our relationship that I feel like I need to be with somebody else, I'm going to end things with you first, because there are obviously larger issues in our relationship. One of the worst things you can do to another person is violate their trust. I'm fiercely loyal to my lovers, my friends, and my family.
For some reason, I like to hear that a chick would dump me as soon as she starts to dislike me. I like to know that you would not try to fix my faults. Too many bad relationships get worse because of enablers. I like the “dump the chump” attitude.
• Smelly – I have the world’s sweetest dog. And although she needs a lot of attention, she also has a lot of love to give.
It’s tough to bring a dog into a relationship. They are like two year old stepkids. With a name like Smelly… good luck!
There’s my two cents. Good luck in your search for a man. In my opinion, I think you would be best to just love Smelly and get laid on the weekends.
Signed,
Doug (HolyJuan)
Stripper Pole Easter Bunnies
Orlando, Beth, Lori and I went to lunch at Bob Evans Tuesday. I was tired and/or hungover from the Ohio State loss to Florida. The second such hangover this year.
On our way in, we noticed that the walls were papered with crayon colored Easter Bunnies. Some were colored A+ and some looked like a preschooler colored them. I was then reminded that many of them were colored by preschoolers and I quit with the criticism.
I did notice that this particular Bob Evans ran out of the supplied Easter Bunny coloring pages and had to make duplicates on their crappy fax/printer/copier that is covered in grease back in the Assistant Manager’s cubbie.
The crappy copies have dark lines down the left side.
But I’d rather like to think that the lines aren’t lines, but rather a stripper pole. Take it off, Easter Bunny. Bawk, bawk.
That could make me rise from the dead.
On our way in, we noticed that the walls were papered with crayon colored Easter Bunnies. Some were colored A+ and some looked like a preschooler colored them. I was then reminded that many of them were colored by preschoolers and I quit with the criticism.
I did notice that this particular Bob Evans ran out of the supplied Easter Bunny coloring pages and had to make duplicates on their crappy fax/printer/copier that is covered in grease back in the Assistant Manager’s cubbie.
The crappy copies have dark lines down the left side.
But I’d rather like to think that the lines aren’t lines, but rather a stripper pole. Take it off, Easter Bunny. Bawk, bawk.
That could make me rise from the dead.
Word(s) of the Day
I started a list at work a few months ago of poorly spelled words that our guys would send in on their reports and e-mails. One day at work, I was talking to a client and said the word “visceral” over the phone. Angie remarked that she was surprised I used the word or that I even knew the meaning of it.
So we started a list of the best word that was used in the office that day. What it has turned into is a diary of sorts where we can look at a word and remember what was happening on that wretched day when that certain word was uttered.
2/7/07’s altercation came from one of our guys interacting with a store manager in a most unprofessional manner.
The 2/8/07 word made both lists. The guy was trying to say pursue as in “pursue a lawsuit” and said peruse instead. A misspelling and a word(s) of the day… bonus!
On 2/20/07 Angie said “kick ass” when I was taking a client to task on their project management abilities. That also caused the list to be renamed from “Word of the day” to “Word(s) of the day.”
Hopefully on the next sheet we’ll see words like “raise,” “bonus,” or “in the black.”
So we started a list of the best word that was used in the office that day. What it has turned into is a diary of sorts where we can look at a word and remember what was happening on that wretched day when that certain word was uttered.
2/7/07’s altercation came from one of our guys interacting with a store manager in a most unprofessional manner.
The 2/8/07 word made both lists. The guy was trying to say pursue as in “pursue a lawsuit” and said peruse instead. A misspelling and a word(s) of the day… bonus!
On 2/20/07 Angie said “kick ass” when I was taking a client to task on their project management abilities. That also caused the list to be renamed from “Word of the day” to “Word(s) of the day.”
Hopefully on the next sheet we’ll see words like “raise,” “bonus,” or “in the black.”
The Secret Amy's Secret Story
Thanks to my sister, Amy, my mother now knows about this site and pretty soon all the sex and drugs and bestiality I’ve written about will be brought up at Christmas and during the uncomfortable silence after my dad makes the remark about how hard it was to kill those sneaky bastard Koreans during the war.
So, to thank her, I’m writing this tale from our college years. You can decide whether or not to believe it. I know I all ready do.
Amy was never afraid of anything except perhaps getting caught. During high school she played every sport and, unlike most girls, considered 84% of her classmates friends. She had only one best friend and seemingly endless boyfriends and admirers. She was crowned Miss LHS in 1987 and turned down the opportunity to be the Dairy Princess at the Fairfield County Fair. Always Amy.
Amy left Ohio forever to go to school in Missouri and she never looked back.
Except once…
I was a freshman in college. Or the 13th grade as many of the people who were stuck at the Ohio University – Lancaster Branch called it. By looking out the lounge windows, we could see our high school. If you couldn’t find a window to look out, you could be reminded by listening to the LHS band practice in the afternoon. I attended because a scholarship I earned forced recipients to save money by going to a school that had no dorms and one microwave.
It was Spring. Winter had finally been kicked to the curb and love was in the air. None of my friends wanted to spend such a glorious Saturday night in Lancaster with the possibility of drunkenly hooking up with a relative. So we went to the real Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. We had friends in the dorms and didn’t have a problem finding a place to stay. We did have a problem finding beer. The 12 pack that was split between the five of us was gone in less than an hour and none of us had a fake ID at the time. We decided to try our luck at the Greenery, an 18+ dance bar that was pretty loose with the liquor. The gods smiled upon us on that Spring night and our oldest looking friend was able to buy pitchers of BrainSlammers or MindMelters or CerebellumBreakers or whatever the blue drink of the day was. We drank and danced and tried to hook up with real college girls. We failed, but had fun trying.
We were drunk well before closing and staggered out of the bar yelling stuff that drunk 18 year old men yell when full of watered down rum and unused hormones. Russ, who is rarely the ladies man, decided to try his luck out on a few chicks walking drunkenly the opposite way. I think they saw his OU-Lancaster keychain, immediately made him cease to exist and without breaking stride, walked right through him.
Our next target was a chick sitting on the curb. For some reason, women feel compelled to sit on curbs when they are drunk. Their knees up with elbows pressed against their inner thighs to support their heavy, drunken head. Men go straight for the vertical position in the gutter. Dave, the hopeless and clumsy romantic, asked if the poor girl needed any help. She looked up… it was Amy.
Holy shit. All the way from Missouri Amy.
I guess the most positive part of this story is that Amy went from really, really drunk and sad to extremely excited, happy drunk. She jumped up and hugged me and we fell backwards.
Amy was living in Missouri, but missing Ohio. She tried to assimilate and failed at heart. But she wouldn’t let anyone know. She had a southern accent within six months and started dating several Baptist boys to try and fit in. To nibble off the homesickness, she kept in touch with an ex-boyfriend. He was a year older and going to school in Cincinnati. He flew her in so that they could spend the weekend together. Boys would do that for Amy. This was a top secret trip as Amy had not been home since Christmas and summer before that. If my folks knew she was in a 200 mile radius of Lancaster, they would be a little upset that she did not come home. So mom and dad could not find out.
In the middle of their weekend of love, the dude broke it to Amy that he and his buddies and she were going to Ohio University for a last minute party. They piled into a Blazer and drove to Athens. Amy was a bit concerned because she had to be at the Cincy airport at 10:00am Sunday morning. No problem, he promised.
Six hours later, there was a problem. Turns out that he drank a lot more when he was around his college buddies and that his college buddies also made him a complete prick. He did some heavy prick stuff and she walked out of the party, sat on the curb and unknowingly waited for me to show up.
She didn’t think there was any way in hell that the prick was going to head back to Cincy that night and there was no way that she was going to make her flight. Her bags were back in the Blazer and she was shit out of luck until we showed up.
To cut to the chase, she made her flight. And here’s how.
We all went back to the prick’s party. He and his prick friends were not there, but the Blazer was. Russ, who stopped ceasing to exist, picked up a cement block and bashed out the back passenger side window. We grabbed Amy’s bags and headed back to the dorm.
We snuck Amy into the boy’s dorm and slept for a few hours. At 6:00am, Amy and I awoke, tiptoed though the testosterone and took Russ’ Nissan wagon to Cincinnati. I dropped her off at the airport at 9:45am.
“Please do not ever tell mom or dad about this. Doug... promise.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
And so, mother dear, as you read this please thank your daughter Amy for sharing with you that there is a little corner of the internet where your son writes lies and tells truths and sometimes both at the same time.
The drive back to OU was the longest drive ever.
So, to thank her, I’m writing this tale from our college years. You can decide whether or not to believe it. I know I all ready do.
Amy was never afraid of anything except perhaps getting caught. During high school she played every sport and, unlike most girls, considered 84% of her classmates friends. She had only one best friend and seemingly endless boyfriends and admirers. She was crowned Miss LHS in 1987 and turned down the opportunity to be the Dairy Princess at the Fairfield County Fair. Always Amy.
Amy left Ohio forever to go to school in Missouri and she never looked back.
Except once…
I was a freshman in college. Or the 13th grade as many of the people who were stuck at the Ohio University – Lancaster Branch called it. By looking out the lounge windows, we could see our high school. If you couldn’t find a window to look out, you could be reminded by listening to the LHS band practice in the afternoon. I attended because a scholarship I earned forced recipients to save money by going to a school that had no dorms and one microwave.
It was Spring. Winter had finally been kicked to the curb and love was in the air. None of my friends wanted to spend such a glorious Saturday night in Lancaster with the possibility of drunkenly hooking up with a relative. So we went to the real Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. We had friends in the dorms and didn’t have a problem finding a place to stay. We did have a problem finding beer. The 12 pack that was split between the five of us was gone in less than an hour and none of us had a fake ID at the time. We decided to try our luck at the Greenery, an 18+ dance bar that was pretty loose with the liquor. The gods smiled upon us on that Spring night and our oldest looking friend was able to buy pitchers of BrainSlammers or MindMelters or CerebellumBreakers or whatever the blue drink of the day was. We drank and danced and tried to hook up with real college girls. We failed, but had fun trying.
We were drunk well before closing and staggered out of the bar yelling stuff that drunk 18 year old men yell when full of watered down rum and unused hormones. Russ, who is rarely the ladies man, decided to try his luck out on a few chicks walking drunkenly the opposite way. I think they saw his OU-Lancaster keychain, immediately made him cease to exist and without breaking stride, walked right through him.
Our next target was a chick sitting on the curb. For some reason, women feel compelled to sit on curbs when they are drunk. Their knees up with elbows pressed against their inner thighs to support their heavy, drunken head. Men go straight for the vertical position in the gutter. Dave, the hopeless and clumsy romantic, asked if the poor girl needed any help. She looked up… it was Amy.
Holy shit. All the way from Missouri Amy.
I guess the most positive part of this story is that Amy went from really, really drunk and sad to extremely excited, happy drunk. She jumped up and hugged me and we fell backwards.
Amy was living in Missouri, but missing Ohio. She tried to assimilate and failed at heart. But she wouldn’t let anyone know. She had a southern accent within six months and started dating several Baptist boys to try and fit in. To nibble off the homesickness, she kept in touch with an ex-boyfriend. He was a year older and going to school in Cincinnati. He flew her in so that they could spend the weekend together. Boys would do that for Amy. This was a top secret trip as Amy had not been home since Christmas and summer before that. If my folks knew she was in a 200 mile radius of Lancaster, they would be a little upset that she did not come home. So mom and dad could not find out.
In the middle of their weekend of love, the dude broke it to Amy that he and his buddies and she were going to Ohio University for a last minute party. They piled into a Blazer and drove to Athens. Amy was a bit concerned because she had to be at the Cincy airport at 10:00am Sunday morning. No problem, he promised.
Six hours later, there was a problem. Turns out that he drank a lot more when he was around his college buddies and that his college buddies also made him a complete prick. He did some heavy prick stuff and she walked out of the party, sat on the curb and unknowingly waited for me to show up.
She didn’t think there was any way in hell that the prick was going to head back to Cincy that night and there was no way that she was going to make her flight. Her bags were back in the Blazer and she was shit out of luck until we showed up.
To cut to the chase, she made her flight. And here’s how.
We all went back to the prick’s party. He and his prick friends were not there, but the Blazer was. Russ, who stopped ceasing to exist, picked up a cement block and bashed out the back passenger side window. We grabbed Amy’s bags and headed back to the dorm.
We snuck Amy into the boy’s dorm and slept for a few hours. At 6:00am, Amy and I awoke, tiptoed though the testosterone and took Russ’ Nissan wagon to Cincinnati. I dropped her off at the airport at 9:45am.
“Please do not ever tell mom or dad about this. Doug... promise.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
And so, mother dear, as you read this please thank your daughter Amy for sharing with you that there is a little corner of the internet where your son writes lies and tells truths and sometimes both at the same time.
The drive back to OU was the longest drive ever.
Scam Baiting
I decided to try a bit of scam baiting. This is the attempt to waste a 419 scammer’s time by having him think you are an easy mark, thus keeping his attention from some church secretary in Omaha. Check out some much better examples of scam baiting at 419 Eater.
This poor fellow found me through my frankenstein hotmail address. It was the third of fourth one I had recieved and thought this might be fun. I decided to go with the reverse-con, bi-polar approach. The e-mails go back and forth between the scammer (Allan Grooves) and me (Frank Chocfactory) and are separated by the dashed lines. {Editor's notes are in these brackets.}
From: "allan_grooves"
Subject: ATTENTION
Date: Mon, 12 Feb 2007 08:54:22 -0800
My Beloved,
Greetings:
My name is Mr. Allan Grooves, I work as an accountant in a bank; I contacted you to work together with me in claiming my late client's estate. Unfortunately he died without a registered next of kin and as such the funds now have anopen beneficiary status. You could be made the beneficiary since you share the same last name with him. This has officially transferred the right to you, as no other person from his family knows anything about this fund with our bank, if you are interested in working with me. Please get back to me as quickly as possible so that I will give you the details of what we are to do. I wait for your prompt response so that I can give you more briefing of what you need to and how to do it Thanks for your co-operation.
Best regards, Allan.
-------------
Dear Allan,
Oh my God! This is bad and good news together. Is this about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? PLease let me know more details. I want to make sure this is not a scam.
Thanks, Frank Chocfactory
-----------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
My Dear,
Greetings!
Thanks for your response to my mail. My deceased client died in the year 2001 and his name was Dean Irwin Stein. Since you share the same last name with him hence I contacted you to help in repatriating the funds left behind to any account of your choice. I got your address from the Internet in my search for a reliable person that would help me in this transaction. The amount of funds left behind was 8.6 million United States Dollars only and I would want us to share it 50/50 after we have successfully transferred it into your nominated bank account. It is now very obvious that he died interstate, as I have already made further inquiry to ascertain this. And this is where and why I contacted you, as the money is now marked unclaimed with my bank. Normally After six fiscal years and nobody comes up to claim the funds it would be marked dormant and reverted back to the bank's general coffers and shared among the directors. This I do not want to happen. I now solicit your sincere cooperation so that we can work together to get the funds out of the bank before it goes back to the bank. After we might have talked I would send you a text of application instructing you on how to apply to the bank for the funds release. I will like you to provide me with the following.
a, Your telephone number
b,Yourcomplete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
Hope to hear from you soonest.
You can call me at +44 (0)7926586043
Best regards, Allan
-------------
Allan,
Dean Irwin Stein? Are you sure you don’t mean Charlie Andy Chocfactory?
Please let me know if you find out anything about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? I know he passed recently, but I do not know how to get ahold of his money. Please let me know of your research.
Thank you Allen and God bless,
Frank Chocfactory
----------------------
From: "allan_grooves" allan_grooves@canada.com
Subject: RE: ATTENTION Date: Wed, 21
Feb 2007 15:12:40 -0800
I had told you that the name of my client a while ago and you actually have the same name with him. I only needed you to help me with this transaction and that is all. I will never force you to help me okay but this would be beneficial to you.
Thank you.
-------------------
Listen here Allen...
My last name is not Stein. It is Chocfactory. I do know that I have a great uncle who had a lot of money and he died with it. These funds have missing for two years. Please ask your contacts if they know of a Charlie Andy Chocfactory. His mother's maiden name was Stein. Perhaps this is the connection????
Let me know!!!
Signed, Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
It is possible he lodged the money with his mum's maiden name. I have told you the one i have and it was never a mistake okay. Please if you want to assist, fine but otherwise stop sending me emails okay. The transaction is not such that i have to beg you for okay.
Thank you
---------------
Allan.
If there is something in it for me, I can help you. I did some research and found a D. Stein in my family history.
Praise be if this is the man you represented at the Bank. How can I be of service?
Please let me know.
Thanks!
Frank
---------------------
{He sends me the exact same e-mail with }
a, Your telephone number
b,Your complete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
--------------
Allan,
I can be reached at 1-202-331-8590
{Editors note: this is the number to the NATIONAL FRAUD INFORMATION CENTER & INTERNET FRAUD WATCH in Washington DC.}
My full names is Frank E Chocfactory
Mailing address is in Washington, but I will hold that back for now to ensure this is not a scam.
My Job is with an auto repair shop right outside of Washington in Virginia. I repair mainly BMWs and VWs.
Please let me know how I can help with the splitting of the funds!
Thanks, Frank
--------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2007 09:28:02 -0800
I think you are being unserious here. You gave me a number which had been disconnected. I do not know what you are doing concerning these funds. If you are not interested, please let me know or you call me on +44 7926586043.
thank you.
--------------------
Allan,
I just tried to call your number and no one is answering. Is this correct?
I am beginning to think that you are trying to steal money from me. Fortunately, I just got a $2000 bonus from my work!! See, hard work can pay off.
Why do you contact me and then not follow up? I am beginning to think that you have found someone else to help you.
If this is so, I am sorry that we could not work out an agreement.
Best of luck to you Mr. Groves.
Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Mon, 26 Feb 2007 15:16:58 -0800
Dear Mr.Frank,
I had been trying to reach you on the number which you had provided but all to no avail. i have not found anyone to do this business with and still believe that you would be able to assist me in all respect.
My number is +44 7926586043,+ 447909833952. you would be able to reach me on those numbers anytime. Please supply me with the information that i requested from you and this process of application would start and we would have enough at our disposal.
Expecting your feedback.
Thank you
Sincerely
Grooves
--------------------------
Hello Allen,
I am bored with all this.
Please just tell me what address to send the money that you need so that you can release the larger funds.
Please check off the following reasons why you need the money and how much you need:
1. International Transfer Fee
2. Notary Public Fee
3. Rebel Alliance Fee
4. National Transfer Fee
Just add up the amounts of money you need and make sure is isn't more than $2,000. I can either send you a cheque or wire transfer.
Please, my good friend. Let's just get this over with so that I can go back to my normal life.
Thank you,
Frank
-------------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 09:43:32 -0800
I dont understand what you are talking about. for now have a nice day.
----------------
Allan,
Listen, I know how this works:
1. I send you money to pay the tax or fees.
2. Once the fees are paid, you send me the larger sum of money.
3. We both end up happy and RICH!!!!!!!
Come on... I know there is some fee or something.
Just tell me what I have to pay and when I can get my hands on the BIG MONEY!
Thanks, Frank
----------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 14:54:36 -0800
I think you had been into the wrong thing before. I would never be contacting you if it was not for someone who would be reliable and not run away with these funds. I do not
honestly know what you are talking about.
I know that i dont require you to pay me any amount of money
okay.
Thank you
------------------
Allan,
OK. I feel like we have gone in the wrong direction here.
I want to help you if it will help me. And I want me to help you.
Please let me know what information you need.
Thank you,
Frank
----------------------
allan grooves (allan_grooves@canada.com)
Subject: RE: ATTENTION
i am still waiting for your information to continu okay.
----------------------
Well Allan?
WHERE IS MY MONEY!
I SENT YOU THE MONEY ORDER!!!!!!
WHERE IS MY MONEY!!!!!
{That was the letter I sent tonight. I had not heard from Allan in a while and I assume he moved on to bigger and better things. I really think he grew tired of my bi-polar shit.}
This poor fellow found me through my frankenstein hotmail address. It was the third of fourth one I had recieved and thought this might be fun. I decided to go with the reverse-con, bi-polar approach. The e-mails go back and forth between the scammer (Allan Grooves) and me (Frank Chocfactory) and are separated by the dashed lines. {Editor's notes are in these brackets.}
From: "allan_grooves"
Subject: ATTENTION
Date: Mon, 12 Feb 2007 08:54:22 -0800
My Beloved,
Greetings:
My name is Mr. Allan Grooves, I work as an accountant in a bank; I contacted you to work together with me in claiming my late client's estate. Unfortunately he died without a registered next of kin and as such the funds now have anopen beneficiary status. You could be made the beneficiary since you share the same last name with him. This has officially transferred the right to you, as no other person from his family knows anything about this fund with our bank, if you are interested in working with me. Please get back to me as quickly as possible so that I will give you the details of what we are to do. I wait for your prompt response so that I can give you more briefing of what you need to and how to do it Thanks for your co-operation.
Best regards, Allan.
-------------
Dear Allan,
Oh my God! This is bad and good news together. Is this about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? PLease let me know more details. I want to make sure this is not a scam.
Thanks, Frank Chocfactory
-----------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
My Dear,
Greetings!
Thanks for your response to my mail. My deceased client died in the year 2001 and his name was Dean Irwin Stein. Since you share the same last name with him hence I contacted you to help in repatriating the funds left behind to any account of your choice. I got your address from the Internet in my search for a reliable person that would help me in this transaction. The amount of funds left behind was 8.6 million United States Dollars only and I would want us to share it 50/50 after we have successfully transferred it into your nominated bank account. It is now very obvious that he died interstate, as I have already made further inquiry to ascertain this. And this is where and why I contacted you, as the money is now marked unclaimed with my bank. Normally After six fiscal years and nobody comes up to claim the funds it would be marked dormant and reverted back to the bank's general coffers and shared among the directors. This I do not want to happen. I now solicit your sincere cooperation so that we can work together to get the funds out of the bank before it goes back to the bank. After we might have talked I would send you a text of application instructing you on how to apply to the bank for the funds release. I will like you to provide me with the following.
a, Your telephone number
b,Yourcomplete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
Hope to hear from you soonest.
You can call me at +44 (0)7926586043
Best regards, Allan
-------------
Allan,
Dean Irwin Stein? Are you sure you don’t mean Charlie Andy Chocfactory?
Please let me know if you find out anything about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? I know he passed recently, but I do not know how to get ahold of his money. Please let me know of your research.
Thank you Allen and God bless,
Frank Chocfactory
----------------------
From: "allan_grooves" allan_grooves@canada.com
Subject: RE: ATTENTION Date: Wed, 21
Feb 2007 15:12:40 -0800
I had told you that the name of my client a while ago and you actually have the same name with him. I only needed you to help me with this transaction and that is all. I will never force you to help me okay but this would be beneficial to you.
Thank you.
-------------------
Listen here Allen...
My last name is not Stein. It is Chocfactory. I do know that I have a great uncle who had a lot of money and he died with it. These funds have missing for two years. Please ask your contacts if they know of a Charlie Andy Chocfactory. His mother's maiden name was Stein. Perhaps this is the connection????
Let me know!!!
Signed, Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
It is possible he lodged the money with his mum's maiden name. I have told you the one i have and it was never a mistake okay. Please if you want to assist, fine but otherwise stop sending me emails okay. The transaction is not such that i have to beg you for okay.
Thank you
---------------
Allan.
If there is something in it for me, I can help you. I did some research and found a D. Stein in my family history.
Praise be if this is the man you represented at the Bank. How can I be of service?
Please let me know.
Thanks!
Frank
---------------------
{He sends me the exact same e-mail with }
a, Your telephone number
b,Your complete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
--------------
Allan,
I can be reached at 1-202-331-8590
{Editors note: this is the number to the NATIONAL FRAUD INFORMATION CENTER & INTERNET FRAUD WATCH in Washington DC.}
My full names is Frank E Chocfactory
Mailing address is in Washington, but I will hold that back for now to ensure this is not a scam.
My Job is with an auto repair shop right outside of Washington in Virginia. I repair mainly BMWs and VWs.
Please let me know how I can help with the splitting of the funds!
Thanks, Frank
--------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2007 09:28:02 -0800
I think you are being unserious here. You gave me a number which had been disconnected. I do not know what you are doing concerning these funds. If you are not interested, please let me know or you call me on +44 7926586043.
thank you.
--------------------
Allan,
I just tried to call your number and no one is answering. Is this correct?
I am beginning to think that you are trying to steal money from me. Fortunately, I just got a $2000 bonus from my work!! See, hard work can pay off.
Why do you contact me and then not follow up? I am beginning to think that you have found someone else to help you.
If this is so, I am sorry that we could not work out an agreement.
Best of luck to you Mr. Groves.
Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Mon, 26 Feb 2007 15:16:58 -0800
Dear Mr.Frank,
I had been trying to reach you on the number which you had provided but all to no avail. i have not found anyone to do this business with and still believe that you would be able to assist me in all respect.
My number is +44 7926586043,+ 447909833952. you would be able to reach me on those numbers anytime. Please supply me with the information that i requested from you and this process of application would start and we would have enough at our disposal.
Expecting your feedback.
Thank you
Sincerely
Grooves
--------------------------
Hello Allen,
I am bored with all this.
Please just tell me what address to send the money that you need so that you can release the larger funds.
Please check off the following reasons why you need the money and how much you need:
1. International Transfer Fee
2. Notary Public Fee
3. Rebel Alliance Fee
4. National Transfer Fee
Just add up the amounts of money you need and make sure is isn't more than $2,000. I can either send you a cheque or wire transfer.
Please, my good friend. Let's just get this over with so that I can go back to my normal life.
Thank you,
Frank
-------------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 09:43:32 -0800
I dont understand what you are talking about. for now have a nice day.
----------------
Allan,
Listen, I know how this works:
1. I send you money to pay the tax or fees.
2. Once the fees are paid, you send me the larger sum of money.
3. We both end up happy and RICH!!!!!!!
Come on... I know there is some fee or something.
Just tell me what I have to pay and when I can get my hands on the BIG MONEY!
Thanks, Frank
----------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 14:54:36 -0800
I think you had been into the wrong thing before. I would never be contacting you if it was not for someone who would be reliable and not run away with these funds. I do not
honestly know what you are talking about.
I know that i dont require you to pay me any amount of money
okay.
Thank you
------------------
Allan,
OK. I feel like we have gone in the wrong direction here.
I want to help you if it will help me. And I want me to help you.
Please let me know what information you need.
Thank you,
Frank
----------------------
allan grooves (allan_grooves@canada.com)
Subject: RE: ATTENTION
i am still waiting for your information to continu okay.
----------------------
Well Allan?
WHERE IS MY MONEY!
I SENT YOU THE MONEY ORDER!!!!!!
WHERE IS MY MONEY!!!!!
{That was the letter I sent tonight. I had not heard from Allan in a while and I assume he moved on to bigger and better things. I really think he grew tired of my bi-polar shit.}
Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s at Ohio University on April 14th
Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s is playing at OU on April 14th. I think it is a free show, but I can’t be sure because I lost my secret college free concert sense back in 94’. Oddly enough that is also when I lost my Fish Called Wanda movie poster.
Here is my plan: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. You’ll have to drive your own car and stay in your own hotel, but I’ll be at the show around 8:00pm and then I’ll be at the C.I. from 11:30pm until closing. I’ll be the old guy. Buy me a beer in a can.
Here is my plan B: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. Here’s the pinch - this might be the weekend of Palmerfest as well. If this is so, I will need to sneak out of the house a few hours earlier to attend and I will need your assistance. At 1:00pm on Saturday, we’ll be heading out the door to go to a good friend’s kid’s birthday party. I really want to go to the birthday party, but if you drive by and kidnap me in front of my wife, I will have no choice but to go wherever it is that you take me. If that happens to be Palmerfest than so be it. I’ll split gas cost with you to Athens and back. Just duct tape my mouth and hands before you dump me back off at my house Sunday morning. More than likely, I will have forgotten everything anyways from the alcohol. Your secret is safe with me.
See you at the show. Doors open at 6:00pm. Bring duct tape.
Here is my plan: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. You’ll have to drive your own car and stay in your own hotel, but I’ll be at the show around 8:00pm and then I’ll be at the C.I. from 11:30pm until closing. I’ll be the old guy. Buy me a beer in a can.
Here is my plan B: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. Here’s the pinch - this might be the weekend of Palmerfest as well. If this is so, I will need to sneak out of the house a few hours earlier to attend and I will need your assistance. At 1:00pm on Saturday, we’ll be heading out the door to go to a good friend’s kid’s birthday party. I really want to go to the birthday party, but if you drive by and kidnap me in front of my wife, I will have no choice but to go wherever it is that you take me. If that happens to be Palmerfest than so be it. I’ll split gas cost with you to Athens and back. Just duct tape my mouth and hands before you dump me back off at my house Sunday morning. More than likely, I will have forgotten everything anyways from the alcohol. Your secret is safe with me.
See you at the show. Doors open at 6:00pm. Bring duct tape.
Neighbors
"Love your neighbor, but build fences." -Something my dad would always say
We live in a great house in a great neighborhood with great neighbors. It took us ten years, but we’ve finally got it right. We haven’t always had bad neighbors. Actually, I think we were the bad neighbors for the eight years in our first home. We were always friendly, but never interactive. Our cats were always pooping in the neighbors’ mulch and we’d pretend we didn’t notice. We kept to ourselves mainly because we were a newlywed couple, while they were families with 2 – 3 kids. I’m sure we could have been more involved, but we just had other things to do.
When we lived in an apartment during those first two frosting years, we did not have neighbors, we had “people downstairs.” Then we moved to a quad of duplex apartments and we had “the freaks next door.”
The freaks next door moved in over a week long period, one rusted vanload at a time. At 6:00am on Saturday, we were made aware that their alarm clock was moved in. It kept on its electronic droning through the paper thin walls for three hours. Obviously they had plugged it in, set it and they had not been there to turn it off. Finally, it stopped ringing. We assumed that it automatically turned off after a certain amount of time and we tried to snatch a few more minutes of sleep. But the alarm started sounding again six minutes later. Then it went silent. Then we heard voices. The neighbors had slept through their own alarm for three hours and one snooze. An alarm so freaking loud that it woke us up.
And this was not the last time.
Every morning their alarm clock would sound at 6:00am and would not get turned off for 2 – 3 hours. We were usually out the door on the way to work with their alarm still ringing. We tried pounding on the wall, but they could not or would not hear the pounding over the alarm.
I made an interesting connection the day I came home and found a flier on the door handle. It was for a home cleaning service. I looked up from the flier and saw that the neighbor’s rusty van was full of cleaning supplies. I took a closer look inside the van and saw piles of the fliers in the dirty van. (A dirty cleaning van?) I formulated a plan and took the flier upstairs and into the bedroom.
The next morning at 6:00am their alarm sounded. I grabber the flier and the phone and called the number after dialing *67 (selective call blocking.) The phone next door began to ring. The alarm turned off and a sleepy voice answered the phone. I hung up and we went back to sleep.
I did this EVERY morning for a week. On one occasion, I had to call twice when they reset the alarm. They had to be going crazy. Fortunately they were not smart enough to realize what was happening. Unfortunately, I was too dumb to remember to hit *67 one morning and they called me back.
“Hello?”
“Who is this? Why do you keep calling?”
(Pissed off but sheepish) “Um…you aren’t turning your alarm off in the morning for hours at a time. “
“What?”
“We can hear your alarm through the wall!”
“Well, you could of just told us.”
And she was right. We could have told them, but we did not want any interaction with these people. It wasn’t just the dirty cleaning van or the alarm or the cigarette smoke that permeated the wall. It was also the sex.
Hours of sex. It seemed like hours and was actually only 40 minutes, but their bed squeaked with every thrust, she was very orgasmic and when he finally came (thank God) he’s let out a disappointing, one second grunt that Miss Sally and I still make fun of to this day. You’d think after all that banging that he would scream out for 30 seconds. But instead, “Unngh.”
We ended up moving our bedroom to the smaller, second bedroom. All our weekend guests then got to wake up at six in the morning after not being able to fall asleep for 40 minutes the night before.
So in the end, we avoided them. They avoided us. Life goes on.
Then one night, the cops showed up at our door. We were both asleep in the smaller bedroom and we were awoken by the doorbell and knocking. I stuck my head out the old bedroom window and saw a cop car and officers below at the door. Oh shit. My first thought that my parents had been killed. I ran down stairs and opened the doors.
The cops were right to the point.
“Good evening sir. Are you alone?”
“No, my girlfriend is upstairs.”
“Can you get her?”
Oh shit, Sally’s parents were dead.
Sally was at the top of the stairs and was tentatively coming down.
“Yes?”
“Miss, can you come here so we can see you?”
She came and stood next to me. He asked her if everything was all right and if there was any trouble. She said no. He asked if we had been fighting. I said no and that we had been asleep. They said we are talking to her. I shut up. Sally said the same, nervously laughing. No, we had gone to bed an hour ago.
The cop said there had been a report that there was a domestic assault in progress. They seemed to believe us. We asked who made the report and they said they were not allowed to tell. Nice.
A month later, in the middle of the night, the cops were back. This time with a social worker. When I answered the door this time, I knew why. So I said, “Are you here because someone reported hearing fighting?” I said this thinking that I was giving the cops some useful information. Little did I know that it sounded like I knew why they were there because I was guilty. I tried to tell them it was the second time it had happened, but they were only interested in talking to Sally. She was asked to come downstairs. I was made to sit on the couch as they interviewed Sally and she reassured them everything was all right.
When we finally had them convinced that all was well, we impressed upon them that we were tired of the false reports and if anything could be done. They said they would look into it. Thanks.
One week later, Sally was opening the front door on her way home from work when the hard of hearing, orgasmic neighbor lady popped out her door and asked if she could talk to her. She then asked Sally if her husband was home. Sally said no and explained we were only just engaged. The lady was a bit surprised, but then said that she understood what Sally was going through as she was a survivor of an abusive relationship. Now Sally was confused. Sally laughed and said that I was not abusive. Next door lady said she heard the beatings and the fighting. Sally said that was impossible and dismissed her. Neighbor lady left Sally, thinking she was in denial.
When I came home, Sally told me about the conversation. Almost at the same time we both realized what was happening. The stairs that go up to the bedrooms double back before they got to the top. The freaky neighbors were hearing someone get the shit beat out of them… but it was the people living in the duplex on the OTHER side of them. They had their left and right screwed up. Idiots!
We moved out a few months later.
The bad thing is that poor woman who was getting the shit beat out of her never had the cops show up at her door.
The good thing about this was that we later realized that the freaky neighbors must have thought it was the other neighbors who had called them in the morning to wake them up when their alarm couldn’t. Suckers!
We live in a great house in a great neighborhood with great neighbors. It took us ten years, but we’ve finally got it right. We haven’t always had bad neighbors. Actually, I think we were the bad neighbors for the eight years in our first home. We were always friendly, but never interactive. Our cats were always pooping in the neighbors’ mulch and we’d pretend we didn’t notice. We kept to ourselves mainly because we were a newlywed couple, while they were families with 2 – 3 kids. I’m sure we could have been more involved, but we just had other things to do.
When we lived in an apartment during those first two frosting years, we did not have neighbors, we had “people downstairs.” Then we moved to a quad of duplex apartments and we had “the freaks next door.”
The freaks next door moved in over a week long period, one rusted vanload at a time. At 6:00am on Saturday, we were made aware that their alarm clock was moved in. It kept on its electronic droning through the paper thin walls for three hours. Obviously they had plugged it in, set it and they had not been there to turn it off. Finally, it stopped ringing. We assumed that it automatically turned off after a certain amount of time and we tried to snatch a few more minutes of sleep. But the alarm started sounding again six minutes later. Then it went silent. Then we heard voices. The neighbors had slept through their own alarm for three hours and one snooze. An alarm so freaking loud that it woke us up.
And this was not the last time.
Every morning their alarm clock would sound at 6:00am and would not get turned off for 2 – 3 hours. We were usually out the door on the way to work with their alarm still ringing. We tried pounding on the wall, but they could not or would not hear the pounding over the alarm.
I made an interesting connection the day I came home and found a flier on the door handle. It was for a home cleaning service. I looked up from the flier and saw that the neighbor’s rusty van was full of cleaning supplies. I took a closer look inside the van and saw piles of the fliers in the dirty van. (A dirty cleaning van?) I formulated a plan and took the flier upstairs and into the bedroom.
The next morning at 6:00am their alarm sounded. I grabber the flier and the phone and called the number after dialing *67 (selective call blocking.) The phone next door began to ring. The alarm turned off and a sleepy voice answered the phone. I hung up and we went back to sleep.
I did this EVERY morning for a week. On one occasion, I had to call twice when they reset the alarm. They had to be going crazy. Fortunately they were not smart enough to realize what was happening. Unfortunately, I was too dumb to remember to hit *67 one morning and they called me back.
“Hello?”
“Who is this? Why do you keep calling?”
(Pissed off but sheepish) “Um…you aren’t turning your alarm off in the morning for hours at a time. “
“What?”
“We can hear your alarm through the wall!”
“Well, you could of just told us.”
And she was right. We could have told them, but we did not want any interaction with these people. It wasn’t just the dirty cleaning van or the alarm or the cigarette smoke that permeated the wall. It was also the sex.
Hours of sex. It seemed like hours and was actually only 40 minutes, but their bed squeaked with every thrust, she was very orgasmic and when he finally came (thank God) he’s let out a disappointing, one second grunt that Miss Sally and I still make fun of to this day. You’d think after all that banging that he would scream out for 30 seconds. But instead, “Unngh.”
We ended up moving our bedroom to the smaller, second bedroom. All our weekend guests then got to wake up at six in the morning after not being able to fall asleep for 40 minutes the night before.
So in the end, we avoided them. They avoided us. Life goes on.
Then one night, the cops showed up at our door. We were both asleep in the smaller bedroom and we were awoken by the doorbell and knocking. I stuck my head out the old bedroom window and saw a cop car and officers below at the door. Oh shit. My first thought that my parents had been killed. I ran down stairs and opened the doors.
The cops were right to the point.
“Good evening sir. Are you alone?”
“No, my girlfriend is upstairs.”
“Can you get her?”
Oh shit, Sally’s parents were dead.
Sally was at the top of the stairs and was tentatively coming down.
“Yes?”
“Miss, can you come here so we can see you?”
She came and stood next to me. He asked her if everything was all right and if there was any trouble. She said no. He asked if we had been fighting. I said no and that we had been asleep. They said we are talking to her. I shut up. Sally said the same, nervously laughing. No, we had gone to bed an hour ago.
The cop said there had been a report that there was a domestic assault in progress. They seemed to believe us. We asked who made the report and they said they were not allowed to tell. Nice.
A month later, in the middle of the night, the cops were back. This time with a social worker. When I answered the door this time, I knew why. So I said, “Are you here because someone reported hearing fighting?” I said this thinking that I was giving the cops some useful information. Little did I know that it sounded like I knew why they were there because I was guilty. I tried to tell them it was the second time it had happened, but they were only interested in talking to Sally. She was asked to come downstairs. I was made to sit on the couch as they interviewed Sally and she reassured them everything was all right.
When we finally had them convinced that all was well, we impressed upon them that we were tired of the false reports and if anything could be done. They said they would look into it. Thanks.
One week later, Sally was opening the front door on her way home from work when the hard of hearing, orgasmic neighbor lady popped out her door and asked if she could talk to her. She then asked Sally if her husband was home. Sally said no and explained we were only just engaged. The lady was a bit surprised, but then said that she understood what Sally was going through as she was a survivor of an abusive relationship. Now Sally was confused. Sally laughed and said that I was not abusive. Next door lady said she heard the beatings and the fighting. Sally said that was impossible and dismissed her. Neighbor lady left Sally, thinking she was in denial.
When I came home, Sally told me about the conversation. Almost at the same time we both realized what was happening. The stairs that go up to the bedrooms double back before they got to the top. The freaky neighbors were hearing someone get the shit beat out of them… but it was the people living in the duplex on the OTHER side of them. They had their left and right screwed up. Idiots!
We moved out a few months later.
The bad thing is that poor woman who was getting the shit beat out of her never had the cops show up at her door.
The good thing about this was that we later realized that the freaky neighbors must have thought it was the other neighbors who had called them in the morning to wake them up when their alarm couldn’t. Suckers!
John and guy I bought a beer for
We went to Brazenhead in Grandview for St. Patrick’s Day. It wasn’t Chicago, but it was a very good time. (Remind me to tell you about the Alphabet Girls.)
Towards midnight we noticed a tall dude. He knows he’s tall. Idiots probably remind him of it every day. Bigger idiots ask to get a photo taken with him. At least this guy is smart enough to make it worth his while. Once I asked him if he’d let us take his photo, he said yes, for a beer.
It was worth it.
Damn that dude is tall.
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