Totally Tyler is a legend in his own mind who aspires to be a legend in yours. After his birth in 1973 to a vending machine filler-upper and a grocery store cashier, he learned that he liked boys and disliked math. He didn’t learn these things immediately after his birth, mind you. He still likes boys and dislikes math. This is why he overtips. He spent his early years in small-town Indiana and his later years in big-city Georgia. Now, having run out of retail stores in which he hasn’t worked and boys on whom he hasn’t crushed in the South, he’s escaped to Manhattan, where he toils away as an event planner.
Things you should know about him are, in no particular order: He survived self-electrocution by the grace of Madonna; he comes off shy in spite of his love of an audience; he takes fashion risks that, had he stayed in the South, might have gotten him institutionalized; and he is at once grateful and sorry that his late brother watches over him (presumably shielding his eyes from the naughty bits). Oh, and he has a mutt named Lola who is middle-aged in dog years and who he loves more than he will ever love any boy. And in spite of all this information, you still only have a partial picture of Totally Tyler. But if you stick around long enough, you’ll get the whole one. He’s giving that way.
You can email Tyler at Tyler@TotallyTyler.com. When he sobers up, he will get back to you. Until then, be sure to stalk him on Facebook. If you are really obsessed, you can follow his every move on Twitter.
Any similarities between characters and events depicted in Tyler’s blog and real persons and events is not only purely coincidental, it’s flat-out crazy talk.