To my great surprise, Twitter is not housed in a silver pod that orbits Earth at supersonic speeds, vacuuming up and then dispersing digital bits of worldwide chitchat; it’s in a big, bland office building in downtown San Francisco, near a bowling alley and an Old Navy.
It took me 30 years to figure out who I really am, as a person, and who I want to surround myself with. I was very much the kind of person who would just meld in with whatever group I was near.
I grew up in Pitman, New Jersey, which is a tiny 2-square-mile town near Philadelphia. Everyone knows each other there.
For a house, somewhere near Los Angeles I found an old church. Very old, no longer used. So we moved the church to the land, and I took off the steeple, and I got my hands dirty.
I do play football no-holds-barred. Any edge I can get, I’ll take. I’d grab a face mask only in a fit of anger. Uncontrolled anger is damn near insane.
Having had cancer, one important thing to know is you’re still the same person at the end. You’re stripped down to near zero. But most people come out the other end feeling more like themselves than ever before.
There’s no way Daniel Bryan can beat me in a Royal Rumble match. It’s ridiculous. He’s nowhere near as heavy as me; he doesn’t have a fraction of the strength I have. There are a lot of ways that Daniel Bryan can possibly beat me.
