My name is Pat McCarthy {You can call me Patrick [I just feel like a pretentious dickbag introducing myself as that. Why? I have no idea.], WOB, Walk, Boy, or really anything. Profanities included. Although I guess if you were going to, you wouldn't wait for my permission. There's a solid chance I've been called worse.} and I'm an alco, er, ex-Minnesota Golden Gopher football player born and bred in Wisconsin {Which may or may not be of consequence to peope outside of the area.}. I have a tendency to overuse squiggly brackets, brackets within brackets and italics. You may find it irritating, but if you have any better ideas on how to best organize my thoughts, by all means, let me know. Hopefully we can peacefully co-exist until you get accustomed to my ramblings. I carry an Indiana Jones pouch {Others may call it a man bag, murse, or something of the sort. Until I smite them with the whip I carry within.}. I can be a bit verbose from time to time.
I used to be a fat white guy. I would now classify myself as portly. Perhaps jolly. I am in Stockholm, Sweden, playing football for Djurgården {The best analogy I can come up with is imagine the New York Yankees having a club rugby team that no one really knows about. That's us.} which was named for an animal garden in central Stockholm that used to be the royal hunting grounds where a fencing club was started in 1891. Sometimes there's really no point in exaggerating or making up a story because the truth is inexplicable enough. Run on sentences are a strong suit. Living over here exposes me daily to the non-sensical, and it amuses me. And to clarify, no people who live in Sweden are not the Swiss, and banking, watch or chocolate making is not a major industry here {That would be Switzerland. But at least the first two letters are the same.} However, you would be spot on with cows, milk and dairy products.
If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. One, because it makes it easier for me to come up with things after that. And two, chances are someone else is wondering the same thing, and we're here to please. Just don't make them too difficult because I am a stupid football player and can only speak in single syllables.
Thanks to Rob for bringing me on, and for everyone reading. I'm looking forward to a journey free of icebergs.
3 comments:
Ahoy Matey!
Morley charts your journalistic efforts and labels them The Graveyard of the North Atlantic.
Literary shipwreck aside,
scour the island for fruit. That'll cure your scurvy and beriberi.
Sea-riously though, we're glad you're afloat to sub for FWG while he's aweigh manning his torpedo.
I'm suddenly feeling nautical. Now where did I put that Dramamine?
ok so the WOB blog is officially dumped down the toilet?
Walk On Boy will stay up, but I'll predominantly be posting at FWG.
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