I swore I would never do it. Swore it.
Blogging’s for net freaks with no real lives, I said. For those who can’t go and enjoy life the real way, I said. I’m no good at it, I said. I’ll break it, I’m not really that prolific, I have a rash.
Yeah. Fat lot of f#$king good those excuses did me.
So here I am. I’m Doc, aka Caleb, aka Cypher or Cyphermagnum. I’m the proverbial piss in Wizzer’s cornflakes, and Kensai’s crack-dealer. I’m the nail in etiquette’s Coffin. I’m the skinny white guy on the dancefloor with the overbite. I’m the idiot who burnt through punk, goth, metal and uncle sam and lived to tell about it. I’ve came for the Chaplain’s daughter and stayed for the buffet. And yes, there will be a test.
I’m stuck in the Tidewater area of Virginia (by chewing gum on my seat, it seems), I’m continually getting Dizzy and I’ve found TK isn’t always followed by an ‘O’. I will beat the s&$t out of your bullets with my head in Halo, I will kill myself faster than you can in SWG, and still be home in time to cook dinner.
I’m not coherent (as if THAT needed stating), and beer makes me righteous.
First post. Questions may be directed to the complaint department, care of my sense of political correctness (good luck). Let the beatings begin.
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