There are now incriminating photos of Dumbgasm on his blog. Him playing video games. Him sitting next to a "friend" and looking for all the world like a fucking chick. (I think that was PHF's quote: "He looks for all the world like a fucking chick." Can't be sure; I was drunk at the time.) Duran Duran does not begin to describe his hair.
Oh, and I saw the "garage."
For those who doubt, these pictures would be the proof that he exists.
For those who believe... trust me, it's way worse than you imagine.
But I don't think I'll be posting them any time soon, if ever. Two issues:
Can't get the fucking pic program to work. It sucks, I suck, Blogger sucks... etc. Everyone else does it with ease, but not me. I'm no loser with computers. I have the capability to muck and fuck until I make the goddamn thing do what I tell it. But the prior pics on here were accidents. Fucking accidents. And it's an accident I cannot recreate.
Or, will not recreate.
Because I've already quoted this poor guy extensively, sometimes out of context - though Fire Faerie saw him and his blog this weekend and told me that I wasn't that far out of context. But because of him and my uncontrollable mocking of him, somewhere down deep there's an acidic mint on a pillow with my name on it. It's a place where country music is piped in 24/7 and I'll wait in a year-long queue for the door in those shoes that I wore last night.
But there's no reason to drag this poor guy along with me. He's one of the ones who doesn't know. (I know you don't get that. You will; read on this week.) Poor guy. He's got enough problems; he sure doesn't need me spreading his pic around the net, as well as his words.
Besides, you never know... he might find me. And there is no guilt like the guilt of someone caught-in-the-act.