<}:<Chris>:}>

I'm a cruel, uncaring bastard with a sarcastic, morbid, and dry sense of humor, which, I am proud to say, is very good at making people cry. I have a gift when it comes to making people feel uncomfortable, whether it be explaing how I'd sexually molest their dead relatives to macking on obviously underage junior high chicks.
I'm a romantic at heart, if you could call it that, and I'm good at wooing. I'm the kind of guy that can turn a lame gift into an elaborate romantic gesture that sweeps them off their feet. The joke, I suppose, is on me, since when I do this for them, I usually mean it. I told you, romantic at heart.
I was raised by presbitarian, lesbian, amputee, midget, transsexual twins from Equador in a tiny shack on the outskirts of a little Alaskin village 80 miles from Nome called "Fuckyomama". I lived a happy childhood, racing through the fields of grain with my squirell buddies, riding the short bus to school, and eating the pink cotton candy my parents tried to hide from me in the walls. Sneaky bastards.
My Parents were so mean that they would give me and my sisters a ten dollar bill on Christmas Eve, steal it while we were sleeping, then beat us the next day for losing the money.
Yes, I have a great deal of faith, in human greed and stupidity, and the sweetness of sharp steel on a moonlit night. I have faith in the dark unseen, the cold chuckle from the shadows inside, the absolute clarity of the knife. Oh yes, I have faith, and beyond faith-I have certainty, because I have seen the bleak bottom line and I know it's real; It's where I live.