Dude, my scalp is really unhealthy, what the fuck.

Dude, it’s because you don’t wash your hair.

I wash my hair everyday. I just don’t use shampoo.

That’s not washing it, dude. Obviously when I say washing it im referring to shampoo and possibly conditioner. Asshole.

The two boys stopped arguing to observe the passing boats. It was 2pm in the afternoon.

Are you going back to Dave’s later?

No, fuck that guy. That guy’s such an asshole.

Dave? Are you kidding me? Dave is so fucking nice. Did you hear about the time he saw that girl walking along the street and gave her a ride like 50 miles back to her house.

Dude, that’s because he thought he was going to fuck her.

Dude, she was married!

I know, but Dave didn’t know that when he picked her up and even after he did he still thought he might be able to fuck her. That guy is an asshole.

John was silent for a second.

She was hot, though.

The two were working on their tans. It was 2:01pm and the sun was high in the sky. The sun was always high in the sky in Georgia. And it was always hot. Bainbridge, Georgia. That’s where they lived.

Alright, man, well I think I’m gonna head over there. You’re welcome to come if you want. It’ll be fun. You don’t have to talk to Dave. He’s probably blacked out by now anyway.

No, man, I’m staying. Thanks, though.

What are you going to do here?

I don’t know. I have shit to do. I have homework and shit. Plus I’m getting a tan. Look at these fucking forearms.

Dude, forearms are always tan. No one gets tan on their fore arms.

I’m practically black, dude. Don’t be pissed just ‘cause you can’t tan. You’re so fucking white. I’m sorry. I know you’re self-conscious about it. But hey, I’m fucking hairy. We all have our detriments. IS that even the right use of that word. Dude, is Connie going to be there? That girl is fucking hot.

Toby saw his opportunity. He might be able to convince John to come.

Um, I’m pretty sure she’ll be there. I talked to Lauren and she said they were getting lunch but after that they were going to head over. That was like an hour ago so they’ll probably be there by now. I’m not sure though.

He was lying. He had no idea if connie was going. He didn’t even really know who connie was. he met her one night when he was really drunk but then the next day he waved to a girl he thought was her and the girl didn’t wave back.

hey everybody! wheres wetzler is back! the only difference is im not going to capitolize the first word of sentences or use the apostrophe key? that was a question: is that the only difference? is that the only difference you see you so far. now that was a statement. youre getting confused. did you know that carla bruni is the first lady of france. or sorry i should say la premiere dame de la france. or something like that.

just ate a strawberry. plenty of vitamin c. listening to the song she moves in her own way by the kooks. my roommate is sitting at our living room table eating a lunchables. hes not hungover. i am. why was i in ballard last night? this is an actual question i have. i was walking down market street and i walked past this house at like 230 in the morning and there was a hottub in the backward with a bunch of people some of whom were girls and i thought to myself fuck i should go get in on that. i should go talk to those people. they would like me. they would love me! how could they not love me? but i didnt go talk to them. i didnt go to the hot tub. i was scared. some sort of hot tub time machines.

my roommate has given me a lunchables. he is a kind roommates. haha. a kind dougs. yes!

Ahhhhhh, stretch those creaky bones. Wetzler is waking up from his slumber. He’s thinking about where to go for Spring Break. Last night he ALMOST bought a ticket to Mexico City. He was about to go to bed when he remembered that he still didn’t have a ticket for Spring Break and he thought to himself, “Better now than never.” He went out to the couch in his boxers, turned on his computer, and was about to buy the ticket when his roommate lumbered into the room.

“Dude, you’ve been to Mexico City like five times. Go somewhere else.”

And then Wetzler was back at square one. You see, usually Wetzler knows exactly where he wants to go. Via Google Image Search or hearing the name of a place that sounds interesting he investigates a place he’s never been before. Then, if the place is right, he becomes obsessed. He reads reviews, investigates flights, looks at weather, looks at pictures. Soon, the thought of going anywhere else seems preposterous. He must go to this new place. He must see it for himself. The process starts with a seed of interest and then if the place is right blooms into a full-grown three-foot-leafed tiger lily.

This happened last night with Wetzler. The seed was planted, and today the flower began to bloom. He is close to buying his ticket. He just needs to wait a little longer for the flower to bloom and then he will buy it. Almost there! Could be this evening, or later tonight. Hopefully it happens soon before all the cheap flights are taken.

Wetzler is going to the Virgin Islands.

Hey everyone —

I want to apologize for the little hiatus I’m going to be taking from Where’s Wetzler. I’m not taking a hiatus from writing, just a hiatus from Where’s Wetzler. You see, there’s many things I would like to talk about in my writing that I don’t feel like I can really talk about on Where’s Wetzler, mostly because this is the kind of forum they’re not really suited for.

By Spring Break at the latest things should more or less be up and running on here again, mostly because I’ll be taking a trip somewhere and that is the kind of shit that is exactly suited for Where’s Wetzler.

We’ll see how it goes.

Thanks for the emails and the support.

Moderate to high amounts of love,

Wetzler

AK if you still read this blog, email me at markw32@gmail.com. Please.

Where’s Wetzler is going to be defunct for awhile. Indefinitely. I have a new blog. If you’re interested, call me or something. Or text me. Or better yet, email me. Party.

I’m fed up of doing the same thing over and over. If you want to break the mold you have to fail!!!!! FAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!a;ljkdf;kladjsf;ladjsfl;adjksfl;akdjsfl;kadjsfkl;adsjfadfakl;jfadk

Bad news, friends: I’m losing interest in this blog. I never want to write in it anymore. I’d rather play chess online or drink a beer or do pushups or go for a walk or run stairs or cut myself or do anything but write in this blog. Does that mean I don’t like writing anymore? Oh, dear. Think of the consequences if writing all of the sudden stopped appealing to me. I would have to start listening to Muse and drinking Keystone Light. I’d have to get those Adidas shoes with the toe cap that looks like a shell and — oh, fuck… have to start longboarding.

But maybe I don’t hate writing altogether. Maybe I’m just going through a slump. That’s the thing about me: I go through phases. One day I’m completely obsessed with something, the next day I could care less about it. This is, I think, the main reason (not to too my own horn here) I’m decent at everything but AMAZING at nothing. I get obsessed with things, master to them to a point I’m comfortable with (i.e. to the point where I say to myself, “OK, if I did this a fuck ton I bet I could get really good at it. But I’m not going to.), and then I move onto something else.

One of my current obsessions is rowing. I am taking a beginner’s rowing course at the Lake Union Rowing Club, and it’s awesome. We haven’t really even actually rowed yet, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to become obsessed with it. I’m going to by spandex pants and wear pink polo shirts and walk around making sexist jokes and peering at girls asses from behind my Ray-bans.

Yea.

F your F.