I’m not mad. This is just what my face looks like.

Otto refuses to acknowledge any photographic device.

Finally finished that cowl I’ve been working on for a certain little sister.

Of course my facial hair would come in red.

Sup?

Lights out, empty desks. 5:30 on the day before Thanksgiving = burning the midnight oil.

Lipstick Fridays?

It’s a hat.

Dance all you want, but how are you going to code with gorilla hands?

I’m an adult. I have a job and a mortgage. I deserve to be taken seriously. But not too much.