My life has been great...and varied. I've worked as a cattle ranch hand, a construction worker, and even a 1-800-Flowers operator back in college. I've got great friends, but I'm usually too busy connecting other people than to connect with someone myself.
I'm a former punk rock kid who still enjoys dive bars, hardcore shows and outsider art. I'm also secretly a Southern redneck despite my tattoos and social scene. I'm most comfortable in the city or in the middle of nowhere.
I am dependable, interesting, and social.
I'm kind, often to my own detriment.
My friends know I have outlandish (but, true) stories that begin with "Did I ever tell you about the time that I" a) got held up by junta soldiers in the jungles of Burma, b) got shipwrecked on an island for three days, c) got attacked by a pit bull named Daisy, d) sprained my ankle in the basement of the White House, e) got stuck in the Alamo during a hail storm with a random group of Texas Republican women?, f) was chased out of town by a gang of polygamist cops?... And, so, so many more. My friends constantly mock me for this.