Arlo loves community shit. Arlo loves to Contribute. Arlo loves to cook for loads of people.
He's on the first shift of poking y'all with needles—distracting nervous nellies with stories about the stupidest ways he injured himself growing up in a junkyard—so he can move over to the pancakes, which get more creative in shape as the day wears on (18). Would you like a horse? A house? A car? A wrench? A bomb? An orange? Whatever he makes you, he's doing it in an apron fashioned from hi-vis vests and a blaze orange t-shirt that's two sizes too small.
He's among the last to donate his stupid uncommon blood type, gives the bag a secondary label (PROBABLY FOR ARLO), and falls asleep at the kitchen table 1 minute and 14 seconds after swearing he's 'just resting his eyes.'
VIBES: Arlo
He's on the first shift of poking y'all with needles—distracting nervous nellies with stories about the stupidest ways he injured himself growing up in a junkyard—so he can move over to the pancakes, which get more creative in shape as the day wears on (18). Would you like a horse? A house? A car? A wrench? A bomb? An orange? Whatever he makes you, he's doing it in an apron fashioned from hi-vis vests and a blaze orange t-shirt that's two sizes too small.
He's among the last to donate his stupid uncommon blood type, gives the bag a secondary label (PROBABLY FOR ARLO), and falls asleep at the kitchen table 1 minute and 14 seconds after swearing he's 'just resting his eyes.'