Patrick currently resides deep in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts. He sucks at sports, can't play any musical instruments, and suffers from crippling anxiety. In his spare time, he can be found trying to beat his best score at Ms. Pacman or passed out on the couch after a tiring day of Law & Order: SVU reruns. His favorite things include television, music, and comedy. He dislikes almost everything else, especially the Tori episodes of Saved by the Bell.
He also can be found at houseofplay.tv
It was the summer before my freshman year of high school and my friend’s shitty dog bit my groin area. My mother, who sat through two nursing classes in the late 80s before giving up on that dream, insisted on checking out the wound. I flat out refused and began to prepare myself for a lifetime of penis rabies.
I’m okay now.
"Is the Thing’s dork made out of orange rock like the rest of his body?”
I never gave it a thought. I guess common sense would say it was made of orange rock too, but I always thought it was more interesting to think about Reed Richards. As you know, he had the ability to stretch, and sexually, that would seem to be a great asset in many areas.