Born into a travelling circus at the age of 9, I was given the gift of pointless rambling by my mother. I have experienced life in many ways, a post office, a skateboard shop, the bottom of a bottle, the top of a bottle, college, record stores, mountain climbing, the world of warcrack, golf, being in bands, unemployment, watching the price is right, and eventually design.

I talk too much sometimes. I seldom make sense.

I'm happy with that.


I'm starting to notice that this is where I shake my sillies out.
That sounded a little more perverted than intended.

I still can't figure out half of the features on this website.

I are internet dumb, I does print.


I have hit a rut. I think if I start working hanging upside down by my feet, that will help. I just need a crane to hold up my immense weight.
I'm getting fat.


I hadn't lived until I did the layout for a furniture store flier.

Once I'm a dad, I'm gonna make sure my kid can use illustrator before they can walk. It'll be funny.

The older I get, the less I'm certain I know how to work the internet.
This prospect terrifies me.

I randomly add to this when I think of something stupid.

Isn't it kind of weird that this site gives us "ratings", I feel like a piece of meat.

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