Don't want any blood in my Alcohol System

About me:
The details of my life are quite inconsequential...
very well, where do I begin? My father was an Aboriginal cannibal,
who was raised by Koalas until the age of 12. Upon his first taste
of chicken, he became a self-proclaimed anti-vegetarian and ate nothing but
meat until his death at 31. My mother was a fifteen year old Cambodian prostitute
named Candy with severe acne and a body odor reminiscent of Bea Arthur's bush.
They met at the 1938 World's Fair in New York. My mother was selling hard-tack
and swill, my father was "Racoon Boy" in the freak show.
It was true love at first sight. Unfortunately, after the 13-Day reemergence
of the Spanish inquisition, they were both drawn and quartered and thrown
into an unmarked mass grave. The rest of my childhood is a bleak affair.
After years of buggery and bootlegging,
I eventually centered on a career in Sri Lanka, as a research
biologist, manually masturbating monkeys for artificial incemination.
Unfortunately, after a year, a severe and lethal form of athlete's foot
took hold of the region, and within a week I was the only living man
in 300 miles. I was all over the news. Katie Couric smiled at me.
But all the fame and all the publicity, reporters hounding me
outside my door for a full three hours-- it just got to me.
I had to get away for a while. Plus, I had killed a man in
a bar fight in Nebraska. So for the next 4 years I began a
drug smuggling route across the border of Canada, importing
marijuana and ecstasy. To this day all residents of Saskatchewan
know me as "Monsieur Molta". Oh, and I got in the Guiness Book
of World Records for world's longest pubic hair not on the testicles.
And I think I might've put out a few albums, but that was during
my oxycontin and underaged asian boy-sex stage. Thankfully,
I don't remember much of it! I am now a chief advisor to the Bush White House.