Bryce Fairbourn is the Bomb (dot blogspot) dot com!: One word: Mustache.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

He lives vicariously... through himself.
His legend precedes him the way lighting precedes thunder.
His charm is so contagious they are trying to creative vaccines for it.
He never says anything tastes like chicken... not even chicken.
Even his enemies list him as their emergency contact.
His personality is so magnetic, he is unable to carry credit cards.
He owns 4 sports cars and rents 5.
His hands feel like rich, brown suede.
He once punched a magician. That's right, you heard me.
He can speak Russian... in French.
His sweat smells like cologne.
Police often question him... just because they find him interesting.
If he were to punch you in the face, you'd have to fight off the urge to thank him.
He is the life of parties he has never attended.