I was born on the mean streets of New Hampshire. Life was hard but I got by. I once bit a grizzly bear's forehead because he tried to steal my favorite flannel shirt. I'm not a mean person, but c'mon it's my fucking shirt. Anyway, I made a living peddling maple syrup, real maple syrup, not that fake shit you get at the grocery store. That's "pancake" syrup, seriously read the label, I always called it maple syrup too, but one day an Italian pointed this fact out to me. I didn't believe him at first, on account of the Italian thing, but he was right. He was right. So enough about me, tell me something about yourself. P.S. Don't really.