I'm awesome, in little ways - which is huge. And is also not enough to fill the required 'Self-Summary' space.

The urge to repeat the word 'very' before putting awesome, to make up the required length, is so incredibly tempting. I'm avoiding it, only to prove that I am not immature.

Which isn't entirely true. But, it is very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very close to the truth.

I like to snuggle; I don't do enough of it.

All of my best friends are women. They are all incredibly good looking. They all have live-in boyfriends. They are not a threat to any perceived happiness I may discover in a relationship; truth be told, I think they would all like to see me with a nice girl.

I am tall, 99% fearless - when it comes to normal things (ask me about the Onion Man, and you will know true fear), devastatingly handsome, and occasionally humble (it's one of my best traits).

Once I get to know you, my loyalty is unbounded. A while back, one of my best friends told me I should give lessons in how to be a friend. This was probably one of the greatest compliments I've ever received.

I tend to get noticed when I go places. I wear a lot of bright colors, I laugh loudly - and often, I smile (for the most part) when I walk in, and I thank people as I walk out. I always try to blame my mother for raising me right. I think, perhaps, I just learned how to be a gentleman by getting disgusted with my fellow men.

I always send flowers the next day. Unless it was a terrible time. I tend to forget to call, though. Nothing personal, I just really, really, hate phones.

I have a bad habit of smashing phones when I'm angry. I keep an extra phone, in its box, in the file cabinet at work and one in the closet at home. No lie.

I've never laid a hand on a woman in anger. And I will laugh while slapping a man who has.

I curse. A lot. I don't even notice it anymore. I was, seriously, raised by a sailor. It shows.

I don't like getting drunk.

I'm not 420 friendly. I'm 31.

I have a cat.

I drive a Soul.

I like purple.

I wear jewelry.

I listen to Natalie Merchant when no one is looking.

I have been known to trim my eyebrows.

I smoke. Often.

I can be damnably romantic.

I love the feel of a warm body next to me.

I have tattoos. I will show them to you, but you have to ask.

I get bored at the most amazing things.

I get amazed at the most boring things.

Basically, I'm like a person. Except, you know. . .awesome.

There is, literally, no good answer to this.

I manage a gas station. Although, I prefer to call it a Gas Boutique - a little more apt.

I'm writing my unauthorized autobiography.

Trying to find the most efficient route between Milwaukee and Philadelphia.

I've got a pretty wicked game of Roller Coaster Tycoon going.

The usual stuff.

Driving, being a wise ass, retail, getting things off of tall shelves and Scrabble. If my friends summed me up, they would probably say I am good at: driving, being a wise ass, retail, getting things off of tall shelves and Scrabble.

I love over-tipping people. Grossly, over-tipping people.

I also have a penchant for hyperbole - as I believe it is the greatest thing ever.

Not giving a damn. Which, depending on the situation, is both a blessing - and a curse.

Letting other people believe what they want about the universe, life, love and existence. Your beliefs do not alter mine, as I don't suspect mine would alter yours.

Remembering where a particular book is in a library, if I've seen it there once. This also translates into a pretty keen ability to remember every place I've ever driven.

Mumbly-peg. Sort of.

Learning.

I don't look anything like Warwick Davis. He's a red head.

I wear a lot of rings.

I've been told, by more than one person, that I have a well shaped head.

My abrupt nature.

My favorite books: new ones.

My favorite movies: My Blue Heaven, The Red Violin, Predator

My favorite music: That 1 Guy, Meatloaf, anything people will groan about when they hear it.

My favorite food: anything from the ocean - except for salmon; hot dogs.

My cat, my new bed, Camel Menthol Lights, the smell of a new book, sterling silver rings, overly expensive - and extremely soft - toilet paper, my devil-may-care attitude.

Work, women and whiskey. In that order. The alliteration is accidental.

Thinking about how all the typical Friday night activities completely turn me off. I'm not into crowded place, so I won't be at a bar. I'm not into very quiet places, so I won't be at a movie. I don't have a lot of disposable income, so I won't be out to dinner. But - I can be found (often) at work. Or driving aimlessly around the city (I drove Milwaukee's circumference the other night - took an hour and a half. Nice drive.). I can also, if pressed, be found eating dinner, getting drinks and taking in a movie. Go figure.

I almost never wash my socks. This isn't to say that I wear them dirty all the time. Rather, I buy new socks with great enough regularity that I can just toss the old ones out without having to wash them. Is there anything that beats the feeling of a fresh pair of socks?

I also tend to mistake old Wayne Newton for Shirley Bassey. VERY embarrassing.

You need someone to talk to; or someone to listen to.

If anything I wrote made you laugh.

If anything I wrote made you angry.

Oh, and, it's not me. It's you. Every time.