Welcome to my poorly-assembled profile. I try to write stuff that you shouldn't feel embarrassed to read (because something tells me you don't want your friends to know about your fictional fetish with rich CEOs). Here's some stuff about me!

Alias: I'll let you know when the cops stop sniffing around.

Location: Prison, again. One too many Twinkies can really do a lot to the subconscious.

Age: Too old for what I'm worth.

Sex: Is how people die. No, really. Anyone who has had sex and died is now . . . dead.

Hobbies: Writing. Dancing. Pondering over life's big questions. Like . . . The issue of memory loss, and why it seems to make people. . . Uh. . . 

By the way, if you know anyone who has ever EXPLODED from not peeing . . . let me know please. It's for science, I SWEAR.

Extent of my intelligence: I can pretend to be all smarty-pants with regard to fancy words (pinkies out, man) and telling people what they want to hear . . . but let's face it once socially inept always socially inept and once a redneck always inbred. Let's hear it for cheesecake!

OK so I didn't really tell you anything about me. And you know what that means? I'm a mystery. So by not telling you anything you can assume that I purposely exposed that trait of mine for your personal benefit of KNOWLEDGE. Either that or you can conclude that I'm completely nuts and I should never be allowed access a dating website.

Except for Farmer's Only. Maybe.

And now for a story!

once upon a time
in a world stuffed with cheap rhymes
there lived to be a great queen
she resembled a baked bean
that is all.