About On any given weekday I surge awake at precisely 5 A.M. without the aid of an alarm, release my beasts onto their hunting grounds, and drink a gallon of nails for breakfast before heading to my early morning cage match.
After vanquishing my opponents I cleanse myself in a shower of hydrochloric acid, scrubbing with Comet and steel wool. If I need to be presentable I scrape the stubble off my face with a bowie knife, use gasoline as aftershave, and comb my hair with a live wolverine.
I spend much of my day at work attracting stares from the common folk who walk past my ground floor window. Between transcendent sessions of becoming one with the Internet, I brew my own espresso shots via water