Connor M.

Today marks the start of "Goretober," Instagram better be ready for my shitty guts n' gore splashed onto a digital canvas.

Boyfriend officially broke up with me this morning, I feel like death but, like, stoned death. That's pretty metal, actually...

I can now get food without sounding like some Uncle named “Mike” whose main hobbies include smoking cigars and cat-calling women out the window of his rusty pickup. Yeehaw, mates.

Colds can nuck my suts, like, the last thing I want to be doing is spending all day in bed because I can’t order a burger without sounding like Darth Vader.

Gabber/noise rave was fun, didn’t expect to get decked in the mouth but here we are...

Got stitches, yet got no bitches... mega think.

Slipping around in a bathtub full of blood is a lot colder than you think.

If I have to listen to one more Cardi B song I’m going to cut off my ears and clog the holes with iron wool.

THATS MY DRAWING HEEHOO

I got a hoodie that's so long that it negates any reason to wear pants. New York better be ready for these hairy legs.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Happy Birthday Connor!

pp

You ever just wake up at four? Yeah, me too.

I just almost enlisted in the US Marines on accident. I'm a menace to myself and everyone around me.

My mood? Bad. The answer? Best Gore. Hotel? Trivago.

Today I woke up early to get a desk. IKEA better still have them horse meatballs when I get there.

August means birthday. Birthday means old. Old means death. Connor is not excited.

It’s hot... in Topeka!

My dumbass broke my computer and now I need to get it to the electronics store. My ass, not the computer, that’s fuckin’ dead.