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Ry-Man Review



The Great Ryan Guthridge Review.

By:  Bob-0

 

     What can you say about someone who acts exactly like me?  Sure he weighs about twice what I do, and he could probably punch a hole in a brick wall, where I have a problem punching a hole through a wet paper towel.  Yet our speech and mindsets are way too similar to be ignored.  In these next couple paragraphs I will sit down and tell who the man behind the comic is, Ryan Guthridge.

 

     The drawings of Ryan in the comics are so inaccurate; I think a two year old on valium could do a better depiction.  He doesn’t have green hair, he wears nothing but wife beaters (one time he took a silver wife beater off and he had a white one on under it!), he reminds of an Italian incredible hulk.  He likes hanging out with me because it makes him look stronger and better looking when he hangs out with ugly weaklings.  I’m like Olive Oil to his Pop-eye, minus the whole spinach and damsel in distress deal.  I think he purposely wears girly shirts just so people will pick fights with him.  He has a pink girl scout’s shirt for God’s sake.

 

      His taste in music runs from interesting to totally hella-gay.  He likes Alice in Chains quite a bit, 311 as well, I approve of those bands.  Yet if I find one more “Supa Fresh Rap CD,” or anything similar, I’ll have to confront him and prepare for the ass kicking of a life time.  He has probably the worst grammar of anyone I’ve ever seen, usually I let things slide, but whenever he ends his sentence in “at” or other prepositions.  My Obsessive Compulsive disorder kicks in and I correct all the errors on every homepage possible.  I also hear he has syphilis, oops that was between him and his physician.

 

      By now he’s probably turned green and has torn apart both of his “beaters,” but I’ll continue.  I think everyone can tell that he’s a pathological liar, he lies even when he doesn’t need too; it’s sort of like shoplifting.  The only beverage ever consumed by Ryan is milk and his only food is chicken in a biscuit.  Milk rules, yet Chicken in a biscuit sucks hard to the core.  It tastes like the floor outside of the exit to the drunken person’s never ending Tilt-a-whirl.  He takes a suspicious amount of antibiotics probably for all of his crippling STDs, damn slipped again.

 

      He and I can now longer occupy the same room, we’re both the most sarcastic people ever seen, we also end all of our sentences with “idiot,” it never gets old.  He likes anime a lot too, which I hate, also after going through his internet bookmarks there was a ridiculous amount of  Anime porn sites, I guess that’s where the interest comes in.

 

      That’s pretty much an overview of Gut as a person, I didn’t even touch on his shameless womanizing, well I did do a roundabout review of that with all the STD mentions.  Maybe a 2nd installment is in order, depends on whether or not he breaks my thumbs after reading this, keep me in your prayers.