IAAT profile: fahn_patrick

1. How old were you when you took your first dump?
The bronzed dook says “Sean: age three”. I was pretty sure that it’s physically impossible for a person to hold a bm for that long. I consulted Dr. Beardface anyway, and he said it’s probably the first one I took that was not in my own pants. He also mentioned that it was a bit unusual to have a bronzed statuette of your own feces, fucking racist.

2. Have you accidentally the whole thing?
I don’t even know where to the to the. But, I the thing apart, hard.

3. OWNED!
- Valve

4. What was the first game that made you ragequit and what happened to make you act like a big fucking baby?
I used to be way better at games. I think it was the Doom II mod pack that started my problems. I would serial link the hell out of anything. Duke Nukem 3D made things worse. My dad would kick my ass from across the desk and laugh into my face. It was then that the drinking and drug problem started.
I still go home and ragequit when he beats my ass in the first call of duty.
These days, fighting my addictions publicly on steam, sometimes I inhale so many pills that I fall asleep at the wheel. I usually try to ragekick first. This could be a form of projecting.

5. What are your thoughts on shirtless men hugging?
It’s like the time I turned on that TV show “naked science.” It is strange, and not what I expected.

6. Would you ever show your ass to your own ass? Why?
I could answer this question with an old adage. Did you ever hear the story of the ugly duckling? It didn’t even know it wasn’t a duckling because it’s mother was an otter. It is a well known fact that otters are like the albino jewish afro-ed Canadians opening baked good stores in America of the animal world. Not acceptable. The moral of the story being: Watch out for IEDs on the riverbank.
But I digress:
It is akin to my ass thinking that it’s a worn, shoddily upholstered lecture-hall desk cushion. How does one know itself if it cannot be shown by its own kind? Are we a product of the identity others project on us? Was my ass born to poop? Or was it SHOWN to poop? Is my ass really an ass?
I think I just figured out my grad school thesis…

7. If you were Gordon Freeman for one day, what would you do?
I’d go back to those beautiful, long gone days of studying to get my doctorate at MIT. I’d march right into work and in front of everyone, exclaim to Dr. Eli Vance that his is the only “Black Mesa” I’d ever need. I would love him like GLaDOS loves cake. Then we would ride that resonance cascade on top of each other right into Xen and explode our anomalous materials over everything. We’d float on the clouds above the border world and show the combine how to love the vortigaunts with our rigid, shirtless motions. G-man’s head would explode at the immorality of our actions and his loss of control. I would love Alyx like a daughter. I would also prevent Dr. Kleiner from acquiring a horrible case of headcrabs.

The gens of the people would swell to the size of Nihilanth himself.

All are satisfied.









8. How extreme are you?

Daily.

I haven’t had a solid movement in years.

9. Do you agree that the Engineer is a credit to the team?
The engineer is comic relief and not much else. Not only does he look like a member of village people, the last time I saw overalls was at the ’98 county fair.
Listen, I know he’s the engineer, and he’s here to solve problems. But, one problem I have trouble resolving is why he can’t ever put the teleporter in a useful spot. This one time, I went through a teleporter and I came all the back to the spawnpoint. I was so angry, I yelled at a puppy’s face.
He also says things that are dumb, like this. This other time, I was so laughing hard at something the engineer said, that I actually blew myself up with my own sticky bombs. Fuck this guy. I hate him.

10. Tell the story about the first time you kissed a man:
It was cold and dark. I’d never spent the night in a tent before. Deep in the recesses of my cold-weather mummy sleeping bag, I shivered at the whim of a fear that had taken over me. The harsh gusts of wind shook my tent to its poles. It was then I noticed that I couldn’t hear anyone else. The rustle of cheap nylon struck me like the unexpected droppings of a bird. I shook as a hand crept onto my cocooned body.

“Don’t worry, little boy. Scoutmaster Johnson knows how to take the fear away.”

That is a lie. I’ve never kissed a guy. But sometimes, Nic and I kiss our monitors and pretend we’re kissing each other when no one else is in vent. Doing this is probably more homosexual than actually kissing another man.