discolé monade

has tried to drive a semi...but believes that 12 of the 18 gears are just a suggestion

microwaves skivvys for that toasty nut feeling.

his style is so amish meets 80's coke dealer....iono from what i gather this is all him. from sound cloud days. has a master in busines marketing? or degree...does it matter - he saw this as a cash cow actually reminds me a LOT of of a show called 'dave' a jewish marketing ad employee pitching ideas decides he's REALLY good at rapping...but i digress (great show btw) he collabs with someone named $bono?

makes homemade popsicles with listerine.

paul mccartney will always be his wings upon a prayer.

lol... drunk driver no shit hot damn let party WITH YUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG GGGGGGRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAVVVVVVVVYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

thinks the beatles is spelled beetles.

has a pet cricket in a matchbox.

has a tatoo that says 'no regerts' - some candy company saw it...well you know the rest.

taught my cat to sit on the remote so i can't find it, at his cat school in canada.

still thinks 'leap year' means one hops everywhere. the entire year.

absolutely. fantastic idea. you should ONLY play yung gravy mixes though.

thinks d batteries are only for.... massagers

pulls leaves of cabbage like a daisy, repeating 'she loves me. she loves me not'

has perfected the secret to seeming interested in any given conversation: he just hums 'i'm so pretty' in the key of a#.

dresses up in t-rex blow up costume, and chase children in the park with a fake hatchett

is right, is right, he's bloody well right, because he knows he's got a right to be.

is a door to door hen salesmen.

told pete davidson, 'just go for it man'.

can sometimes stick the landing.

sold some hapless woman iguanas, called them komodo dragons. turned out the cash was conterfeit.

went running home to tattle about some woman that stole his ball. he didn't mention he was dressed like a 12 year kid.

punched a chihuahua in the face for humping his elf on the shelf plushie.

right? i remember thinking i was so fucking profound checking into the fucking st. charles. hookers and blow, pimps and cops that absolutely didn't give a fuck. i remember switching rooms, you know...because of the roaches...and thinking....this really isn't all that great...you know...because of the yelling down the hall. and finished CitR -- my 5th read through...and last. in that year.

loves to quote ron burgandy.