Hi, my name is (huh?)
My name is (what?)
My name is
You look at the profile of some strange creature who addresses himself as ReverendAspen and wonder, "Who is this guy, and what brings him here?"
Upon investigation, he through inaction tells you that he's a passionate yet so-so writer from Minnesota, USA with a desire to one day be a true raconteur. He goes on that he also makes plushie dolls, takes the occasional photograph, and may or may not dress up as characters from popular fandoms (although he admits that the latter three aren't his strengths).
With a grimace, he admits to you that he's also a paranoid, cynical pit of self-loathing but hopes to learn to trust people right away. Despite this, he knows that he's a submissive pushover that will fold an argument like a bad poker hand once you do gain his trust. To this day, he is still searching for the happy medium between "trust no one" and "let people walk all over him."
As if to awkwardly change the subject, he abruptly rattles off his quirks and hobbies. He explains that his favorite pastimes are talking to his comrades on Skype, reading books by authors he admits are much better than him, and saying the curiously subjective phrase, "I like listening to good music".
You soon learn that he lives with his cat Wheatley in a small apartment in the middle of downtown. He confesses that he is a caffeine addict and smoker. This man seems to care little for politics, save for human rights. And he is most apparently a casual furry.
So here you sit, knowing with either satisfaction, disgust, or something in between that you've met That Rabbit in the Hat, "Reverend" Chris Aspen.
So management found a bedbug in my apartment. ONE. That aside, my place was PRISTINE. So because of that ONE BUG, I had to toss out my mattress and chair, rewash everything, put ALL of my other shit in plastic, and move the rest of my furniture so they can spray in two weeks. And then spray twice more every two weeks after. AND I have to evacuate with Wheatley in tow for about five hours after. So life as I know it isn't going to return to normal for another month. For all that this week has brought me, the next better bring me cake, balloons, and strippers. Fuck me, fuck my life, and fuck my soul.
But one question still remains.
How are you?
My anger right now is so legendary, it wouldn't surprise me if they started sacrificing virgins to me,
My Fur Affinity