I'm very mysterious. You can tell because I wear thick-rimmed glasses. I don't actually need glasses. I wear them so I can slide them down my nose and shoot people condescending looks. Or whip them violently from my face while I toss my golden locks wildly to the side. There are three toy dinosaurs on my desk. Six on my bookshelf, not including a wooly mammoth and a saber-toothed tiger. A bloated Santa Claus doll straddles a brontosaurus. When you press his stomach, Old Saint Nick farts and says something asinine like "Hoho! Looks like a storm's blowin' in!" I'm not sure why I have it. I guess it's just here to remind me of the ol' Christmas Spirit. And by Christmas Spirit, I'm talking 80 proof Egg Nog with a sprig of holly (It's a pun, jackass). On my bookcase, two Ninja Turtle action figures stand at attention behind Boba Fett, his sinewy arm raised high. His fist points accusingly outwards across the barren, navy-carpeted landscape. Their faces are contorted in battle-forged grimaces. They take their job very seriously: that is, guarding my $14.95 copy of "Breakfast of Champions". There's a jet-black spade, four-feet-tall, leaning against my wall - ripped straight from a bicycle deck and plunged into three dimensions. I dressed my spade in a plaid scarf and a scottish hat. I call him "Ace". There's a framed autograph on my desk. It belongs to some guy named Ficker. He's a waiter at Hard Rock Cafe - a nobody who dressed like he was attending Elton John's funeral. He wore enough mascara to give Robert Smith an inferiority complex. I wrote my name next to his and drew a heart around our signatures, implying we would be together "4ever". I thought it was ironic. A lambchop puppet stands awkwardly on my desk, it's puppet hole sodomized by a wooden mannequin. Why am I telling you all this? Well, I think my room illustrates me accurately: a fucking mess.

(Sorry, I didn't feel like pulling a convoluted analogy out of my ass.)

My appearance? Yeah, I guess that matters. 5'11". 140 lbs. Hair? Light brown. I have a lot of it. It gets oily pretty quickly. If I go on a camping trip or something and I forget to shampoo, it gets pretty bad. I'm talking like, a crown of writhing snakes bad. Turns motherfuckers to stone. Eyes? Green: that's what's printed on my driver's license. Not many people know what color my eyes are. A lot of people think they're blue, or grey, or some stupid fucking made-up color like "chartreuse" or "atlantic ocean." I would at least make up a cool name, like "atomic emerald laser".

I like surprises.

Clinging to the slippery precipice of sanity with my middle finger, flipping God the bird.

Seriously, he is such a prick.

Not knowing what I want. Not getting what I want. Funny how that works.

I'm a decent musician (made the all-state band twice).

I'm a decent writer (administrated a now-defunct online writing community).

I'm decent at taking standardized tests (2210 on my SAT - not that it matters because I'm attending ASU).

I'm a good listener (Usually, when I stare into the distance and make explosion noises with my mouth, people just think I'm autistic, or that I'm having a 'Nam flashback. In actuality, I'm just listening very, very hard).

I'm a decent actor (Lead roles in a couple of plays).

I'm excellent at Super Smash Bros. Melee (I play as Ness).

My greatest talent, however, is my natural ability to please women . . . by staying far away from them.

The potent stench of cranberry schnapps and day-old chicken marsala.

(A) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Invisible Man, The Poisonwood Bible, Breakfast of Champions, 'His Dark Materials' Series, The Glass Menagerie, 1984, Dune, The Know-It-All, Animal Farm, A Wrinkle in Time, The Great Gatsby, The Curious Incident of the Dog at Night-time, A River Runs Through It, Fight Club, Redwall, Ender's Game, Siddhartha, Things Fall Apart, Hamlet, The Catcher in the Rye, Ishmael

(B) Fight Club, Star Wars

(C) Rx Bandits, The Shins, Incubus, The Zombies, Immortal Technique, The Planet Smashers, The Eagles, The Mars Volta, Sublime, Streetlight Manifesto, Bedrich Smetana, Dmitri Shostakovich, Franz Schubert, Maurice Ravel, Sergei Rachmaninoff, Queen, Of Montreal, No Doubt, Nobuo Uematsu, Modest Mussorgsky, Muse, Ludwig von Beethoven, Franz Liszt, Led Zeppelin, Igor Stravinsky, George Gershwin, Fastball, Ennio Morricone, Antonin Dvorak, Dragonforce, Derek and the Dominoes, David Bowie, Daft Punk, John Coltrane, Johannes Brahms, The Blue Meanies, Georges Bizet, 311, Weezer, The Who, Miles Davis, Sufjan Stevens, Smash Mouth, Architecture in Helsinki, Barenaked Ladies, Radiohead

I spend a lot of time thinking, period.

You are a girl who looks good in horizontal stripes.

AIM - L3 Grap3 Ap3