Art school is for masochists; they train us to enjoy getting ripped to shreds and to say thank you after. On that note, please comment and give critique if you feel so inclined.

Bonjour, ami. Mon surnom est "E". And there you have it, the extent of French I can remember from highschool.

Sup y'all, I'm one of 'em Canadian things you keep hearing about. I'm a Wiccan artist engaged to a Wiccan writer with whom I own two asshole cats, thus creating the gayest hippy shit this town has seen since the strip club burnt down.

What else, you say? Well, I have an unhealthy relationship with hotsauce and pickled vegetables, I have a perfectly square-shaped mole on my butt, and I am in a near-constant agonizing state of crippling dissociative depression that I bury deep within my soul to fester like a sickly yellow rot so that the only visible evidence of the crushing turmoil of my mortal flesh and acute awareness of the futility of life in a world where the powerful can simply have you offed or imprisoned for opposing them comes in the form of ill-placed memes and quasi-suicidal humor.

So, like.

You know.

Essentially I'm just like every other heathen on the internet.


Pronouns: lol fuck it man i don't give a shit call me whatever
Are you a furry-furry or just a furry artist?: if i could answer that question myself, it'd solve a lot of my personal issues
What are your cats' names?: Oscar Wilde and Edgar Allan Poe. Yeah. fucking fight me.
What's your fucking problem dude: idk
No, seriously, who pissed in your mapleflakes: crippling childhood trauma and mild erotic enjoyment of nihilism
I think I want to leave now: k, have fun
I think I might stay for a while: k, have fun
opinion on dogs tho: how dare you question my immortal passion for the kindest animal on the planet. get the fuck out of my house

I have one friendo:  MissMillerz