As we reach the home stretch

The value is the friendship

I’ve heard it said many times, dear reader that everybody hates a tourist.

That may be so for I am not everybody.

And?

As a tour guide?

I love tourists.

I don’t ever want to be one.

Recently though, I’ve been a tourist - a tourist in Ricky’s world.

He’s there full time and has seniority and great pay.

I’m there as a stop gap until I can collect EI then focus on getting ready for next season as Dartmouth’s most irreverent and absurd ambassador.

So to be clear about Ricky - what I write here is lies and truth.

Well..

Three or four lies then a massaged truth.

I tend to pin some of my worst behaviour on Ricky. Much like Cartman is a projection of Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s worst characteristics, Ricky manifests a lot of my douchebaggery.

For example, while complaining about other drivers Ricky might say: What the hell is that guy’s problem?

Pretty reasonable rants eh?

My reply:

Dude knows that you have an incredibly small penis and shrivelled up balls. So small that ants need magnification to see it…