Connor Williams

Georgetown University, Attended 2000 - 2003, Class of 2003, Bachelor's Degree, American Studies

(Why is this listed above hobbies?)

Un-affiliated.

mostly lame stuff. mostly. except going to the gym, that's cool. 'cause no one else does it.

Anything by Hunter S. Thompson (except Screwjack, lord...), John Steinbeck, Jon Krakauer and Tony Horwitz. You know who should write a book? Seth Stevenson, that's who.

Anything with Jimmy Fallon, but only if he dies a gruesome, gruesome death at the end after being scorned by every female character, and one guy wanders into a scene and says, "Hey, how the hell do you have a career, you talentless dirtbag?"

I don't know about "favorite, " but have you ever listened to "Night Moves" by Bob Seger? I mean really *listened* to it?

The O'Reilly Factor episode where his head explodes (Note: it hasn't aired yet)

Pisces

Quiet, in a peculiar sort of way.

Steve's tattered shirt frayed in the beach wind, exposing his bulging, golden biceps and rippled midsection, and the copy of his doctoral thesis in his back pocket. Even the seagulls took notice.

"I owe you my life, Steve, for killing my husband and deactivating the hydrogen bomb tied to my dog," she said, already panting from exhaustion. "What can I possibly ever do to make it up to you, Steve?"

Without a word, Steve gazed into the reflecting pools of her eyes, which in turn reflected the reflecting pools surrounding them on the beach. Bending his neck, Steve kissed her long and hard until the crimson and auburn sunset had vanished and they were alone next to the dark crashing waves.

Substitute "Connor" for "Steve." And disregard the rest.

Anyone who can tell a good story, even if it's all lies.