Deep thought questionnaires, ponderings, and stories.
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About Casey Freeman
Hometown
New York, NY
School
University of Colorado at Boulder
At a Glance
Kc was born in Oregon, raised in the Dakotas, educated in Colorado, and now resides in NYC. He misses sleeping until noon, drinking nightly, and getting shot down by college girls. He still gets shot down by college girls.
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Quick Queries
It's Wednesday and I'm the one asking the questions here. Comment with answers or talk amongst yourselves. No big whoop.
Does a specific type of alcohol get you weird? Example, red wine makes me want to dry hump. White wine makes me want to eat shards of glass. Whiskey cures everything. You?
Do you ever care to hear about other people’s crazy dreams?
Would you read an advice column on PIC? Follow up 1: About what? Follow up 2: Got any questions?
7 Comments
Whenever I drink Ten High Whiskey I end up taking home a huge chick. Unfortunately I drink this at least once a weekend...
I'm pants down after 3 or more Miller Lites. (I'm easy)
Southern Comfort makes me heckle people much larger than I.
As for an advice column, once upon a time there was a man named E. Mike, and he dispensed advice along with PIC's best, but it lasted all of two or three articles then disappeared into the mist...
Gin makes me blackout and do crazy things in a competent manner.
I like to hear about other people's crazy dreams, but only if they can condense them into a solid 1 minute or less description. Why are people so obsessed with telling others EVERY DETAIL of their crazy dreams? Just the gist will do, thanks. I realize it's insane, I don't need to know that right before you stabbed your best friend with the knife you used to shotgun a beer, you took a shot of baking soda for no reason and it made your mouth dry.
I would love an advice column on PIC. Preferably about sex. Or anything with absurd but ambiguously helpful answers.
Court,
Seriously, I had this dream:
"I dreamt I moved into a house with Court. My room in Court’s house was like my room in Bismarck. Then I tried to eat a hot dog and it was wired to explode when I picked it up. It was hilarious."
I left some stuff out. Now I see hot dogs and think they're all booby trapped.
kc
Bob, if you do this every week, maybe you just like the big girls....
this is not a joke, i really would like to know if there are techniques for concealing a hard-on in public. there's the obvious tuck it into the waistband of your boxers, but have any inventions been patented to serve such a purpose?
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