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I'm an artist. I'm an improviser. I'm kind, decent, I snort when I laugh, if I land on my back I snore, I'm painfully honest, but I do know what tact is and am known to use it well. I'm a fag trapped in a dyke's body. If I can't fix it for you with the wrench or the leatherman always on my belt, then let me at it with some heavy black eyeliner, massage, and a good belly laugh. Unless, of course, you don't want it fixed and then I just validate your desire to vent unconditionally. If you have some rhythm, vocabulary, ethics, and agree that ice cream is a food group, we're already friends.