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"I'm 30 years old. I own a home that I am fixing up in Northern Liberties, Philadelphia. I work full-time as a project..."
More about Stuart
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Messaging Off[Restricted to Stuart's friends] |
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Schools (Other):
Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine
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Occupation:
Project Manager
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Hobbies and Interests:
Sports, Beach, Vacations, Schema
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Favorite Books:
Any book not school related
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Favorite Movies:
The Graduate, Airplane I & II, All Mel Brooks Movies, Good Will Hunting, Shawshank, Reservior Dogs/Pulp Fiction, Strange Brew, The Mask, Office Space
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Favorite Music:
Everything but hard core country
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Favorite TV Shows:
Anything on Comedy Central, Will & Grace, Two and Half Men, King of Queens, Simpsons, HGTV, ESPN, Curb Your Enthusiasm
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About Me:
I'm 30 years old. I own a home that I am fixing up in Northern Liberties, Philadelphia. I work full-time as a project manager. I am in school part time for my doctorate in clinical psychology. Not sure what I want to be when i grow up, if that ever happens, but I am leaning towards the field of consulting. Outside of school, work, and fixing up my house,I enjoy taking my dog to the beach, going to sporting events, and vacationing as often as I can.I have a world map with pins in it of all the places I have been...I still have a long way to go (care to donate to the cause??)
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Who I Want to Meet:
Anyone interesting. I am open to professional contacts, school/psychology related contacts, people interested in dating/meeting, & people who have a clue when it comes to fixing houses.
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Stuart |
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I am not sure that he actually heard me
though. Oh well. What's done is done,
and I am pretty sure the guy had
insurance. We were at that age when
the innocence of childhood had already
taken a three to four year beating by
puberty, and emerged with an actual
license to operate an automobile. And
gravity had always been fun to test
(for scientific purposes, of course).
So who could blame Stu when he released
the emergency brake of the maintenance
van at the top of the largest precipice
in our suburban neighborhood.
(Continued in next testimonial)
van had maliciously and violently
bumped into Stu as he left the
convenience store moments earlier, and
then had the unmitigated temerity to
look back over his shoulder, lock gazes
with my bud, hock a disgusting, 30
years worth of smoking, brown lugar at
his feet and mutter "watch where your
fucking going, kid!" So who could
blame us for following this
curmudgeon? (continued in the next
testi)
creature was doing in our hood. And we
had to get revenge. So maybe a drive-
by egging or toilet papering of his
car? No way. Not good enough for our
protagonist, Stu. Stu needed more.
The van was practically teetering on
the brink of Overlook Circle, parked by
the curb, the sliding door open to
reveal tool boxes and plumbing
equipment. Stu looked around, and
seeing the clear coast, hopped up into
the van. In moments he was running
back toward the car. He got in and we
sped away. In the rearview mirror I
could see the van picking up speed
behind us. If you want to know how
this story (and myriad others like it)
ends, you will just have to meet Stu,
won't you.