I spent the first 26 years of my life on the Left Coast, in a state where "Four Seasons" is considered a hotel chain instead of a normal climatic event like it should be. I consider myself a transplanted Southern boy, and I love it...I'm never moving back. This also means I drink so much sweet tea I consider it Type II Diabetes with a straw. It just isn't mayo unless it's Dukes. I have an obsession with frozen Kit Kat bars and Thin Mint girlscout cookies. I have yet to find a style of music that I hate, but have managed to find plenty of artists within each genre that I wish horrid deaths upon for subjecting me to their auditory diarrhea. I hate Meg Ryan movies. I eat grilled cheese sandwiches with ketchup. I like pickles on my meatball subs. I clean my toilet while on the phone because my mother does this, and I find I'm a lot like my mother the older I get. I consider this a success. If my phone texting ability were to be transmogrified into rock-star-like status, women would throw their panties at me. "You're" is a contraction of "you are". This is not the same as "your". Mix them up and I will kick you in the crotch, gender be damned. This rule applies to "who" and "whom". I perform U-turns with impudence and disregard for personal safety and/or law. I like to drive barefoot.
