Henry: I'm not completely familiar with French benches. But I'm pretty sure this isn't it.
It's about time I did some kind of Henry tribute. He'll probably take it as another way too personal breach of his privacy. Just because I remember every minor detail about his life, he somehow thinks I'm this kind of stalker. You take the time to remember what someone wears to tennis and the name of their childhood dog and suddenly you're "crossing a line". Well, whatever.
Here's some shit you ought to know on the topic of Henry: He's hilarious and the captions he gives to his facebook photos will make you laugh 'till you puke. He also wears an Adidas jacket to tennis and his childhood dog was named Billy.
Here's some shit you ought to know on the topic of Henry: He's hilarious and the captions he gives to his facebook photos will make you laugh 'till you puke. He also wears an Adidas jacket to tennis and his childhood dog was named Billy.
That's not even the beginning. It's just a personal favourite.
me: when you die, what do you want done with your body?
Henry: I dunno. Burned.
me: What will you do with the ashes?
Henry: Scatter it around the house. It will be like I never left.
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