I bring both the noise and the funk. Like this one time, I was on a job interview that wasn't going well. At the very end, when the guy was like, "Well, Paul, do you have any questions for me?" I just threatened to kill myself in an even, creepy monotone.
And now I'm the longest-serving fryboy at the Wendy's on 32nd Street.
Most nights you can find me alone, rutting away into an uncovered mattress. If you caught me at it, it might feel like spying on a randy bull spending itself against a tarpaulin-covered woodshed. You might be strangely turned on by it.
If you're into it, hit me up, we can do Snapchat like all the kids are doing these days, but be forewarned, snapping with me is like the equivalent of a seizure inducing Pokemon episode after smoking crystal meth at a Skrillex concert.
Brilliant. Flashing. Loins.