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A fellow of infinite jest.
Or, expressed mathematically, I think that's ¹♂ ≤ ∞j/k. I dunno, I suck at math. And a whole lot of other things, too, a litany of which you'll find on this journal. Pay attention, because there'll be a test after the internet is finished and this might just be on it.

Ordinarily I'd put my age here, but I'm not gonna do that because by the time I read this again, it'd be woefully out of date. So let's just say I was born in 1982 and everything went downhill from there. My name is... hotly debated. To some it's Darren or Daz or Dar, to others it's "that dopey bollocks", "hey you", "that awful gobsite" and even an "Oi, mistor!". I'm a friend, son, a brother, an uncle, a dog person, a joker, a libertarian, a weirdo, a gemini, bad boyfriend material, often annoying, not as anything as I ever seem to be, wanted in eight states but not by the law, inarticulate, stealthy, a dork, prone to bouts of extreme socially-crippling verbal diarrhea, a square peg in a round-shaped world and a case study of the harmful long-term effects of too much free time on the human psyche.

Also, my chest hair looks like the batman logo.
That's paredolia for you.

I don't mean to brag, but I have an exceptionally high IQ, especially when you read the number upside-down. Have been known to refer to myself as like the vulgar, heterosexual, inarticulate unfunny Oscar Wilde. I wanna be like Neil Gaiman when I grow up, and by that I mean still have all my hair.

I am NOT wasting my life. ...I'm just waiting for the other side of 30 before I do anything with it, because I know if I do it'll be awesome and spectacular and legendary and then I'll wind up in the 27 Club and dammit, I'm looking forward to being a badass old man.