Feed me, Seymour, feed me.

I married Blondie one month ago in an art gallery in downtown Richmond, Virginia. The other day I was chilling in the kitchen with my parents and the new boy, and I acted out telling my co-workers: “Yeah, my parents still feed me sometimes because, you know, I get in these moods where I just don’t feel like lifting silverware to my face, and you know, it’s not really a problem for them, so it really works out well for all of us.”

My dad goofing around in my childhood room. Summer 2010

You know the kinda eats,
The kinda red hot treats
The kinda sticky licky sweets
I crave