All These Things About m3

I used to think this name couldn't have anything less to do with this m3 until I recently put on a clean pair of underwear.

 I always think better when I don't stink. Sometimes it’s hard to come up with a good idea, and then give it a fitting name. Even clean underwear doesn’t always do the trick. What to call a m3? Icky Dicky Shuffle, I Want Tacos, Save the Planet...etc. I figured not all my m3's had to have some deep meaning, but they all deserve a decent name. A song came on the radio by the The Joy Formidable it had some lyrics that fit so I just left it. I figured when I found a better name I could change it since it's my picture and I can do what I want with it. It's not like I'm changing my seventeen-year-old kid’s name ‘cause at the time of birth I thought Burnt Toast the 3^rd would be a knee slapper at parties, graduation and funerals.

I put some thought into what this name could mean for my m3, and whether I needed to change my underwear again to come up with a more fitting idea…There it was like seeing a boob that wasn't a family member’s for the first time. , “WOW! HELL NO! You’re not changing that got dang m3 or its Joy Formidable name!”

 Not because I have some weird infatuation with my penis or anyone's penis for that matter. I heart making people angry!

When I see someone’s misfortunes it lights up my eyes like a kid coming down the stairs Christmas morning and seeing all of the gifts under the tree. Before you bring out the delete key and fist pump in unison into the night sky, let me explain. I'm just talking about small, small misfortunes, I'm not talking loss of life or life-changing moments, but to have someone so angry and filled with disgust that they would throw half their lunch onto my car warms my heart. That guy just gave up $4.37 because of me!

Watching the dad sitting next to me at a local hockey game wave his hands in a frantic motion trying to get the attention of the mascot with the way- way- way-overpowered 50 caliber t-shirt special edition sniper rifle, take one to the chest and get blown back into his seat in slow motion as if he were acting out a scene in The Body Guard, only to have the free t-shirt land in my lap is just Hi-Larious! (I gave him the #*^% shirt, so calm down)

I've done 10k things to piss people off and I regret none of them. Maybe one day I'll write about all the douche-bag things I've done, but that that day will not be today.

So that being said, there’s always two sides to a story even if it's your own. I can honestly say I've been there for more people in a time of need, distress, happiness and sorrow than most people I've meet in my life. I've never asked for anything more than a thank you. I've never taken money, I never even asked for the favor to be repaid (unless this is my freeloading family reading this and you mother effers owe me like 1k moving man hours and I will hold everyone of you accountable till I'm repaid in full!). So I can't say I love to be hated, or being hated more than loved, I just like to make people happy and angry all in the same breath. We can call it “hagry,” or “grappy,” or “you *&%$#@ I’ll stab your face.” I'm okay with any of those.

I’ll be honest—there’s really nothing helpful or friendly about this m3, unless you consider reducing the risk of skin cancer on about 5% of his back helpful.  Maybe that’s the douche-bag side of me coming out…or maybe I’m saying that when I’m helpful I’m only 5% helpful…or maybe I’m saying nothing about me at all, just saying that m3 was a real dick…or maybe this was one of those m3s that has no deeper meaning at all. I'll leave it for you to decide.

In this shot I changed my swim suit 3x.
I hated the face I made in one so I had to hide him in the top corner. I wanted to look sly, but for some reason it turned out to look more like I just payed taxes.


I burned my skin with the Photoshop and went back over it with a white soft tip bush ... fancy that!
Then m3 with the sunscreen in hand had to be taken several different times 'cause I was so far off from the m3 laying down.


Fact: I dislike grass on my skin. 


shirtless + grass + me = damnation




Thanks for your interest in my m3s and a little story time.

Stick with us on our journey. We love having ya!

I do stuff

Christoph