Very well. Where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving electrician from Montgomery with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for truck-stop waitresses.
(skips 20 years)
...so of course after the divorce and shacking up with the cray-cray girl, I got a Spanish-teaching gig on a handshake at an undesired high school. Life was a ticking time bomb back then, and I was trying to claw my way back into employability as the one-man Romance Language Department of a small college.. I figured with the high school Spanish I had that covered, so next was French.
Took a GRE and laid waste to it like Legolas shooting orcs, got invited to come be a slacker at UT and study French + all the Linguistics and Spanish that I could pack in. Was in the room when they were talking about making a website, drew an armadillo on a napkin and got the job.
A couple of gigs later, achieved Dream Job teaching French and Spanish at small college. New Dean was a tyrannical bully and I told him so, then my services were not required.
I'd been going to Mexico, buying craft items, then selling them for multiples on eBay, so I figured I'd just take a few thousand dollars, cash, y'know, to Tlaxcala where they make most of the Drug Rugs, Baja Hoodies, Chamarras de Jerga sabes weyyy, sell them for 3xwholesale, repeat, with wads of cash as one does at no peril because it's nice tame Mexico.
My wife told me I was fucking insane and to just sit down and draw cartoons, which I did, and do.
But yeah I like languages.