Hello, kind readers! In case you do not remember me my name is Evan "Pantsfish" Wade. If you are bad with names you may know me as "the guy who used a colon twice a paragraph and fished for compliments in his Daily Dirts when he was having a bad day" or "thank god that 'Maxnmona' didn't update this Sunday." Either way, let me offer a preemptive "you're welcome" for saving you from the crippling depression that coincidentally struck you the day I stopped writing for the site. If you are feeling particularly generous you can express your thanks in the form of gift cards to popular online retailers, but I am not one to expect payment for my good deeds. Just because I automatically delete emails that don't contain the phrase "has sent you" in the subject line doesn't mean I don't appreciate them.
You are undoubtedly wondering where I went. While I am not at liberty to say exactly what I was up to rest assured terms like "mystical" and "self-discovery" come to mind when I think about it. A less-ethical person might use those words as a cover for "smoked dope and played Guitar Hero for two months straight," but I am on the up-and-up. No, my journey was far more substantial than a half-pound of Thai Stick and thousands of rounds of "Freebird." That only lasted for about three weeks. After that, I hit the vlogosphere.
I have a love-hate relationship with cameras. I say this because I love them when they take pictures of ugly people who aren't me but hate them when they take pictures of ugly people who are me. In my time off I set out to vanquish that. Below this standard three-paragraph intro section is the culmination of a solid month of work, all centered around a question as old as time itself: Would I make myself or the subject of my vlogs look like the bigger asshole? What was the outcome of the experiment? You be the judge. Then get on with the emails telling me how great-looking I am because frankly it kind of sucked going week-in-week-out without hearing from a few nice readers. You have no idea how hard it is to not be able to casually slip "I get fan mail" into every conversation you have when it's literally the only interesting facet of your sad existence.
(Bear in mind that most of these videos feature not-safe-for-work language and a few of them have visuals of questionable taste. Also, I'm aware that about half of them have incredibly poor video/sound quality. At first glance it might seem that this is because I filmed the vlogs from the interior of a grizzly bear's anus, but in reality I was working with a $15 Phillips webcam for the first few weeks of this project. Any video with bad sound quality will be clearly labeled so you know to turn things up or whatever.)
Are we not allowed to be real parents anymore? We may have feared the CyborFreaks, but we damn well respected them and learned about boundaries.
A thousand years ago, dudes were dying from splinters, but now the wizard potion that cleans our light wounds costs less than a Dr. Pepper in 1994. I love this medicinal 7up.
Ron Paul spins in his chair, trying to grab his decorative antique musket but Freddy gets it first.
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