BUY THE UNDERWEAR OFF MY ASS.
Apparently there's a market for this shit. I don't ask questions anymore.
Go on. You know you're curious.OFF THE CLOCK. STILL AT IT.
MORE OF MY
NONSENSE
I build and fix shit for a living. That's what I actually know how to do.
Problem is, my brain don't understand quitting time.
So when I ought to be sitting on my ass relaxing, I'm writing books, fooling around with a radio station, or building some other damn thing I probably don't need.
Anyway, here's some of the nonsense I've gotten myself into. Poke around.
I WROTE SOME DAMN BOOKS.
Nobody asked me to. Probably should've stopped me. But here we are.
See what I wrote.
GO WASTE SOME TIME.
I built a place to play games and screw around. Like the internet needed another one.
Get absolutely nothing done.
WHAT'S TUCKER BURNIN'?
My boy sells stuff to make your house smell better. And your ass, too, apparently.
Go smell something.SOMETIMES I RUN MY MOUTH IN WRITING.
Turns out I can aggravate people without even being in the same room.
Read some of my bullshit.
A FEW THINGS WITH MY NAME ON THEM.
Got to fooling around making shirts and sweatshirts. Next thing I know, I've got a whole damn store.
Poke through the General Store.