Mortals, look upon me with eyes of wonder as I enter your house party. Regard me with awe as I see a guitar lying in the corner. And O—look not away as I pick the guitar up and begin to strum. For behold! I play guitar.

Gaze upon the glory of my cover of “Seven Nation Army.” Observe the light of my own original songs, which sound exactly like “Seven Nation Army.” Witness me: I am He who lives, even though I was so blasted last night because I drank two Mang-O-Ritas, which made me remember that what I really need to do is focus on the music, which is like its own high anyway, a high far better than the high of two Mang-O-Ritas. I am He who isn’t in a band because I haven’t found anyone I really groove with yet, but I am also He who would love to be in a band with any of you guys if you have room for another project. I am He who scarfs down Popchips.

Hear ye, Steve: this is your house, right? Uncover your eyes, mortal, and behold my conversational power. I like your tattoo. That’s cool that it’s dedicated to your dead brother. I haven’t gotten any tattoos yet, but I know what I would get: definitely a woman’s hot body, or my mother who I owe everything to, or my mother’s hot body, or a bunch of awesome flames going up my arm.

Hark! I am connecting with you really hard right now.

O! This silence is so awkward; let us break it with some chill nighttime tunes, or the latest SNL, or the SNL episode where Gal Gadot is super sexy. Though the sky grows dark, blessed are the hosts of this house party, for I called in sick to work tomorrow. I like my job, but sometimes I need room to breathe, unlike Steve’s dead brother.

I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and end, the first to arrive and the last to leave.

I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life of the Party. I wear a shirt over another, smaller shirt. I’m polyamorous but I don’t want to brag so I haven’t told my girlfriend. I am “too drunk to drive?” O ye of little faith! I threw up in your bathroom; I am risen.

You are “calling me an Uber”? Oh woe—I am persecuted without cause. Yet I bless those who persecute me; I really respect you guys’ chill and DIY vibe. Wow, I’m really opening up… I shouldn’t have drunk another Mang-O-Rita. I wouldn’t say this if I weren’t totally fucked up off of Mang-O-Ritas, but know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. And man shall not live by bread alone, which is why God created Popchips. Man, I love Popchips!

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