Name: Miles O'Toole (also known in some states as: Phil Herrup, Harry Bitts, Al Feelersnatch, Bob Honorbumm, and once, after a few too many, Mary Kate Olsen.)
Height: 5'9" in combat boots
Weight: 145 (my secret? Finding something edible, killing it, eating it, washing it down with massive quantities of beer and then taking a good, hearty shit)
Birthplace: Beaver County, Pa. (you can't make geography like that up, either)
Ambitions: I would like to someday be wealthy by displaying no actual talent or through any effort on my part. If the cast of Jersey Shore can accomplish it, I see no reason why I can't either.
Guilty Pleasures: Movies where the plot is exhausted 30 seconds into the film so that we can move forward with the kung-fu fights, explosions, shoot-outs where guns never run out of ammuntion, topless women in places that make no sense and death by garden implements featuring guys that can't act but have really cool accents.
Turn Ons: My girlfriend. Particularly when she isn't wearing any clothing.
Turn Offs: Big black men in prison uniforms and women that chew gum with their mouthes open. Mmmm smack, smack, smack.....
Vices: Smoking, drinking beer, degrading people of a lesser intelligence and watching my girlfriend swing her hips through our apartment.
TV: I own one or two. They're great devices for transmitting the movies on shiny discs from my DVD player into my living room.
Movies: As long as shit is getting blown up, sliced up, or beat up by a guy in a cape and it doesn't feature glittery sexually confused vampires, I'm willing to give it a shot.
Music: Punk rock. And I mean the real shit. Not this recent crop of eyeliner sporting, bangs-in-the-faces, crying bitches that seem to think punk is a fashion statement. Ooooooh...you have an anarchy symbol on your T-shirt...how cool. Beyond that, my musical tastes seem to be stuck in the 80s.
Pet Peeves: People that purport themselves to be something that they aren't (intelligent, for example), women that carry rats in their purses and try to pass them off as dogs, people that sing in public, old bar flies that feel the need to harass pretty, young things, wobbly chairs, teenagers in Bob Marley shirts, sharing oxygen, people that wear jeans and T-shirts to funerals or weddings and servers that don't understand that 'bottomless cup of coffee' means they should be checking back on the fluid in my cup every 10-15 minutes
Someday I would like to: Survive the Zombie Apocalypse long enough to track down the resurrected corpse of every douche bag that gave me shit in high school and pump a round through their face.
Fun Fact: This morning, I learned that toenail trimmings float on top of the bubbles in the bathtub. This important discovery was not wholly by accident
Dead Celebrity You'd Most Like to Dine With: George Lopez. Okay, okay...he isn't dead, yet. But fingers crossed.
I Hope to Be Remembered For: leaving an obituary that contains the phrases: fiery, senior citizens, bus, hail of gunfire, naked, alchohol poisoning, Johnny Depp, magnitude, authorities are unsure of, and cream cheese.