About Me.

I'm supposed to be a stereotypical male. I'm supposed to be this ignorant fuck who goes to parties to get wasted and smoke all the weed in the world while I listen to Whitechapel. I'm supposed to wear shirts from places like Hollister and Abercrombie, and I'm supposed to buy my band tees from Hot Topic. I'm supposed to be br00talcore!!! or some shit. I'm supposed to quote Chuck Klosterman books and have a complete collection of Palahnuik that I've never touched. I'm supposed to LOVE the movie Twilight. I'm supposed to have hair longer than my girlfriends (who I cheat on all the time). I'm supposed to stand for To Write Love On Her Arms, and I'm supposed to be in a Christian band that's full of hypocritical pieces of shit.

The truth is, I'm not any of these things. I don't stand for any of these things. Chuck Klosterman isn't even a writer. He's just some asshole that decided to get behind a typewriter and talk about his fucking opinions. I'll tell you what I am:

I'm NOT a stereotypical male. I was born in the desert and raised by a pack of coyotes. At an early age I developed my snake-catching skills. I introduced fire to my comrades. I don't tan well, I only burn. And I wear the skins of the animals that I kill, such as the mythical desert beast (that doesn't exist anymore because I fucked his world up).

At the age of ten, I wandered into Pallet Town and decided that I wanted to be a Pokemon trainer. But then, I saw this wonderful, beautiful thing and I changed my mind: an acoustic guitar with vinyl strings and in it a soul of its own. So I saved up my money, doing paper routes and mowing lawns for people until I could have this illustrious instrument. I remember the first time I played it.

I sucked. But it felt so beautiful.

I decided that I wanted to find out what it meant to believe in God. So I went to church and played in the band. But God was not in the church. They always told me to go find him, but they never once gave me any clues as to where he was! They just told me to look for him. They say the church is God's home, but that fucker must always be on business trips and he's probably cheating on his wife with a woman who won't tell him her real name.

Blasphemy? You tell me.

I went back out into the desert with nothing but a guitar on my back and rock and roll in my heart. On my journey I met a man named Benjamin Janz. He couldn't grow facial hair but his sideburns were long and unkempt. I laughed at him.

I returned to the city to find that I had been gone for six years. I made money playing "Wonderwall" on the streets. Just that one song, no other ones. People threw money into my guitar case, and I used it to go to thrift stores and buy a respectable set of attire for myself. I also ate Taco Bell bean burritos every single day.

My hair was long. I'd never cut it before and it was messy and disgusting and knotted. So I cut it off at the Viridian City Barber shop. I hopped on a train and went to California... at least I thought it was going to California. It went to New Fucking Jersey. I made friends with the Devil and sold my soul to him for blues stardom. It didn't work so I wiped my ass with the contract after one of my Taco Bell binges.

I got a job at Hot Topic. I stole everything from there, and then I quit.

So by now, I've learned how to play the shit out of a guitar. I begin to grunt and realize I could have some success as a vocalist, so my primary focus shifts to this. A band asks me to join. I say no. They offer me Taco Bell and Vitamin Water. I agree. I am now the lead singer of a band. I have sex with my hand occasionally in a conversion van full of dudes. They're all Christian, but I turn them into Nihilists when I explain my situation with finding God.

On tour I'm given a cigarette. I become addicted. I RAGE FOREVER WHEN I DON'T HAVE ONE! Either that or I just have sex with my hand fifteen times. That takes the edge off.

I learn what Google is in a Starbucks in Joplin, Missouri. I can be quoted saying:
"I FOUND GOD ON GOOGLE!"

So now, I am a Christian. And you all suck. Go fuck yourselves.