Cheesebag gathering at Stately Harvey Manor!!!

I spent 26 years in pest control, which means I’ve seen things that would make a horror movie apologize and go home. I’ve crawled through dead animals, live nightmares, and customer decisions that should’ve come with a warning label and a priest.

Retired now—but not reformed. Just upgraded from “guy in your crawlspace” to “guy telling you what was actually in your crawlspace while you sleep at night.”

Co-host of Tales from the Crawlspace, where we take the gross, the insane, and the “there’s no way that’s real”… and confirm it is. Loudly. With drinks. And zero adult supervision.

I’m tall, tattooed, and run primarily on caffeine, sarcasm, and poor judgment. Somewhere between a storyteller and a bad influence. If you’ve ever thought, “there’s no way that happened,” I’m the guy who says, “oh it gets worse.”

I’ve chased things with too many legs, not enough legs, and occasionally… no reason to exist at all. And honestly? The bugs were usually the least disturbing part of the job.

This isn’t a clean show. This isn’t a polite show. This is what happens when you hand a microphone to someone who’s been under America’s houses for two decades and never quite came back the same.

If you’re easily offended, deeply religious about your personal space, or think crawlspaces are “just dirt and pipes”… you might want to stay upstairs.

If not—welcome to the dark.

Bring a flashlight.

And maybe a therapist.