the miseducation of patrick dunn
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 friend's 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.
Super Bowl Sunday:
We used to revel in the streets, haunt hipster bars before we even knew they were hipster bars, pool our money together to buy dollar pitchers of shitty tasting draft beer, steal plates of appetizers off other tables, bump chests with total strangers, share fuzzy memories of Janet Jackson’s nipple, watch a group of Northeastern students flip over some yuppie’s Escalade, set fire to it, and then empty the contents of the entire night from our stomach into a subway station trash barrel at 12:30am. Street signs were overturned, streakers were streaking, and the cloudy haze of tear gas filled the air. It was like Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and the Fourth of July all rolled into one.
Now we just bore the world with our inane comments on the internet and pretend we’re John Madden.
Go crazy Facebook, go crazy.
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