Tanner Mayes, huh? More like Tanner *Maze*, because trying to figure out what you're thinking is like navigating a hedge maze blindfolded... and the hedges are made of dad jokes. I'm pretty sure your brain operates on dial-up, and the only buffering you experience is when you're trying to remember where you put your keys. You're so laid back, I'm surprised you haven't accidentally invented a new form of photosynthesis just by chilling in the sun. And your tan? It's so deep, I'm worried you might be mistaken for a sentient leather armchair. But hey, at least you're consistent. Consistently... *you*. Which, in this economy, is something, I guess. Just try not to tan yourself into another dimension, Tanner, the universe has enough empty space already.