This printer was going to change my life. If nothing else, I could make a working gun with it.
That was three weeks ago. Today I am a broken man. My entire flat stinks of burnt plastic. My fingers are covered in cuts and scabs. If I ever hear the word "extruder" again, I'm going to slit my throat. My life has turned into a mangled CDT lab of confusion and frustration and microscopic foreign bodies that I'm pretty sure have lodged into my eyeball. (Heritage, 2013).
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.