If I had a penny for each time someone called me a funny bastard, I'd still be poor, because in the end, pennies just aren't all that.
Name: Name
Gender: The one with the thing hanging outwards instead of inwards.
Occupation: Hypocrite by day, evil arch-nemesis of jolly Saint Nick and the Sugar Crisp Bear the rest of the time.
Writing style and content:
My style's unique, ubiquitous, shaken up, slammed down to earth with force and served without remorse. It's erratic, loose but tight, unpredictable and highly volatile. It laughs at neighboring pieces of literature with its mouth wide open while chewing food. Think I care if I don't fit the mold or conform to popular convention? You already know the answer.
Content heavy? That's for you to decide. This is no even playing field.
Disturbing moments in space and time:
"Officer, I left my house back home, but I didn't bring my wallet."
"I didn't cheat on you, I was merely practicing in preparation for the real thing."
"Cool, so like what continent is Africa on then?"
"Yes... we could call the cops, but that would be the logical and right thing to do."
"Why, what language do they speak over in England?"
"Dude, I'm not drunk. Oh my bad, you looked like a guy from where I was standing."
"It's not like you need a degree to actually amount to anything these days you know."
"I'm not fat, I'm naturally protectively padded and well insulated."
News:
The news is the news. Stay tuned.
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