Who’s Fred?

That’s me. The guy who’s writing this stuff.

But isn’t your name Chris?

Well, yes, but Fred’s a nickname my family and friends use. There are lots of people named Chris, but not so many Freds, so it helps to avoid confusion when there are others around.

I really think you look like a Scott or a Max. What should I call you then?

That’s a common misconception made by drunk blondes. I have no idea why you would want to call me that, but since you are obviously hammered and reasonably cute, I’ll let you get away with Chris-Scott or Chris-Max.

Are you, or do you know a Timmy Townsend?

I am not him. I do not know him. But apparently my cell phone number, which I’ve had for almost five years, is somehow associated with him. If you ever see him, tell him to stop giving out my damn number. Thanks.

I think you might owe me money. Could you pay up soon, please?

You have the wrong person. 

Armpit sex?

Sorry, Garett. Not today.

You suck.

That’s not a question.

Would you be the father of my child?

I get this one all the time. Although I am single, and would love to spread my seed far and wide, I consider it to be a valuable asset. First of all, I’ll need you complete this test and email your responses to sexlordmasterofdesire (at) flyingfred0 (dot) com.

If your test results are acceptable, I’ll need you to spend a nice evening with me and my closest friends to see if they approve.  I’ll also need to see you completely shit-faced, to know if you turn into a raging bitch or total slut when drunk.  Once you’ve passed this rigorous screening process, we can then begin our wonderful life together and have many children.