With so much sponsored gear, it can be hard to determine which stuff belongs to me in the locker room. My solution? Cop an ill neon backpack and stud the shit out of it. Also, convince Michael Phelps that growing a lip-tickler is a dope idea. When really, it's gets a HUUUGE NO #JEAH from Lochte Nation. Gotta keep my baby face intact — aiming for that Frosted Flakes mugshot!