The 'who is you foundation': a non-profit, outreach organization founded by sam pink and myself that sends retired boxers and mma fighters to elementary schools with the intention of providing a learning experience on the importance of being headstrong, avoiding laziness and whining, and staring through a motherfucker and meaning it.

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My armpits smell like desire.

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Schizoid personality disorder; a biography.

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Cat call consisting of aggressively saying the phrase, 'hey, stupid.'

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Act of humiliation where I just feed you burger king.

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H. Salt Fish and Chips is the rape van of fast food restaurants.

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Hopelessness like a fish floating in a sandwich bag filled with tap water.

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Cultural turning point where 'beer runs' have been replaced by whining on the internet until someone provides alcohol.

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Kickstarter fund to send me traveling across the united states to collect tears from the eyes of heartbroken widows and divorcees.

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Fantasy consisting of dumping a bucket of glitter into a large fan that's pointed at a naked woman smothered in coconut oil.

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Approaching someone from behind, placing a hand on their shoulder, leaning in, then whispering into their ear, 'get stronger.'

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That 21st century look of utter confusion after gifting someone a thing you've made, especially a food dish or pastry.

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Tiny asteroid falling from the sky and obliterating the skull of whoever the fuck buys 'st. patrick's day' greeting cards.

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Depression like the cold suck of a dental instrument.

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The password is 'bullshit people'.

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Depression like another man's dick draped over your shoulder.

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Would like to see a battle royale between the trust fund hippies, trust fund wiggers, and trust fund punk rockers.

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Fantasy consisting of wearing ronda rousey's post-fight panties over my face.

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Fantasy consisting of ice skating in a rink filled with the frozen tears of all the women i've known.

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Fantasy consisting of licking honey out of the armpit of a shy girl.

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'Laundromat' is just a fancy synonym for 'orgy'.

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Comprising your identity by which retail clothing store is frequented at the mall.

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Depression like a police helicopter circling over your head.

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Fantasy consisting of a greased floor, three naked and bound women, a hot dog suspended 4 feet from the ground, and a competition to see who can be the first to eat it.

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Fantasy consisting of listening to a woman cry over the phone while getting my dick sucked.

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Fantasy consisting of me backstroking in an olympic-sized pool of filthy panties.

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The insurmountably comical question 'how long did it take to grow your beard?'

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The final level of 'who is you' consisting of muttering, fist clenching, and eye snarling at anything dumb enough to make the mistake of entering your reality, even women, children, chickens, candy wrappers, fire hydrants or the sun.

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No matter how close you get to a person, always the feeling of unending distance.

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Fantasy consisting of mummifying an unconscious woman with 'fruit-by-the-foot.'

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Gravestone that says 'fuck you {name of ex-wife}'

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Being critical of the grammar of other human beings, while wholeheartedly accepting the near destruction of language by corporate marketing departments and manipulative shit weasels emulating such strategies.

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Modified heat-seeking missile that homes in on people using the term 'wheelhouse'.

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Future museum exhibit of a scrotum in a glass jar on top of a marble pillar.

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Some days a person desperately needs to see a pair of tits to part the cloud of depression and walk through to another morning.

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The mythology of the zombie is that of a mindless consumer, which is why so many americans identify with it.

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I encourage others to read this blog.

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Alternate reality where people have the courage to own their self-imposed bullshit.

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Fantasy consisting of mercilessly whipping a woman with licorice rope, then force feeding it to her weeping face

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Read Sam Pink's blog and felt happy that someone 'gets' it, then immediately felt depressed over almost nobody else 'getting' it.

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I'm a quivering cunt hair away from reaching my ask.fm goal of 1k questions.  There are a lot of nonsensical, cutesy, egotistical bullshit queued up.  So, if any of you quiet fuckheads actually have a question for me, now's the time to do it.

I don't imagine myself doing anonymous interactions again.

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Always, the stupid.

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Current fantasy is to spank the shit out of a woman's ass while the theme song to ducktales plays over and over.

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Engaging in cliche actions to celebrate a completely fictitious, corporate-sponsored 'holiday' to appease the lady in your life, then finding your balls and suiciding out of remorse.

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That immensely pathetic and needy energy of older blonde women.

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Soleil Moon Frye in Teen Win, Lose or Draw.

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A constant state of disconnection that's magnified whenever a person tries to abstain from the behavior that alienates themselves/others.

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Envisioning a two-by-four obliterating the face of any human being using fake, overtly dramatic enthusiasm.

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Just when you think there's nothing left to see, a girl in a corset gets her mouth sutured shut.

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Building a time machine to travel back to the 90's so I can perform sexual acts of degradation with the members of wilson phillips.

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Alternate reality where people have dignity and abstain from perpetuating moronic bullshit on twitter tomorrow.

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Temporary loss of reality after witnessing a man in a pleated khaki kilt buying groceries.

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