Self Promoting Douch Bag

I don’t know why I find it so hard at times to promote myself. I know it’s not a good thing considering what it is that I’m trying to accomplish right now. But I just find it weird to talk about myself in some situations. If you ask me what I’m working on, I can answer that question. But if the question is ‘tell me a little bit about yourself’, I think we’re all going to be fucked.
How does one answer that question? Tell me a little bit about yourself…
First and foremost I’m a dickhead. That should help you remember my name. Dylan Halaszynski is a Dick Head. Done and Done. Keep that in mind. I’m not maliscious. But I will make fun of you for whatever. I will talk about whatever. And it will most likely be uncomfortable for you. I lack hair on my tongue, as the expression goes. Most things don’t bother me. I don’t know why that is.
After that, I don’t know what to say about me. I love the Steelers. I love basketball. I have a love/hate relationship with baseball. I love mi familia and if you fuck with them, I’ll fuck back. I have a hard time trusting people – I tried it once but I proved to be right in the first place. I hate Boston. The people there might be okay on an individual basis. But it’s like a fucking museum up there and shit closes at like 1:30. I love wearing a Yankees hat up there.
I hate people who don’t walk on the right. This so applies to the subway. Matter of fact, I think the subway could be its own little sociological experiment. I gave up truly being nice to random people on the subway. I’ll say excuse me once, after that I’m just moving. I won’t give up my seat, unless you have a visual malady or are pregnant. Other than that, bite me. Let the people off before you get on and just standing there when the door opens doesn’t help. Besides, I’m bigger than you – I’m fairly certain I’ll get through with little effort on my part.
I enjoy bitching. I love when things go wrong just so I can bitcha bout them. Plus it’s the only time that the fat kid’s heart rate gets elevated. I love meat – no homo. Chicken, pork, veal, beef. I love it all. If you concur, I highly suggest you make it to a Brazilian restaurant and try the rodizio. More meat than you should eat! That would definitely be my slogan if I ran a rodizio place.
I love drinking. I don’t need the physical act of getting shitfaced drunk all the time. But last night I sat at the bar, just playing Chug 21 while Jeff was throwing darts. And it was the most comfortable I’ve been in a while. It was so soothing sitting there. I wasn’t killing em either. I was just chilling, sipping my beer, playing Chug 21. It was downright serene. Then Jeff sat down and we started talking about nothing. It was perfect – again, no homo. But I’m comfortable in my local dive bar. You know how we do…
I love my music and movies. I went over this a couple weeks ago when I commented on their impact on me. I hate the Hills. Someone’s girlfriend made us watch that shit yesterday. I was asleep and the horridness of that show actually woke me up. I proceeded to vomit for the first time in years. See? I can down a fifth of tequila then drink all night and I just need a quiet place to sleep that doesn’t spin. But put me in front of an MTv show and I’m physically ill.
I also love ranting. Tangents that make very little sense are the best. It does or does not have to make any sense whatsoever. It could be related to what we’re actually talking about or it could just be taken from a word that you said. If you just mention Boston, I’ll go off. I have shit that bothers me that you don’t even know about. Go ahead, mention something. I’ll go off. Or I’ll threaten to walk out into oncoming traffic and masturbate.
Yea, I think that’s all you need to know about me…..