It's sort of hard to summarize yourself. Since you want to walk the fine line between bragging and humility, anything that's running through my head right now will either sound pretentious or insecure. That's why I'll let my official biographer do it for me: "A_____ was born as the heir of the Salzb-" He quit. Right there. Even he couldn't go through with it. I'm told I don't really age.

I read a lot of books. I watch a lot of documentaries. I've got a day job that's fun and fulfilling and well-paying and I've got a semi-regular-hobby-come-night-job that's also fun and fulfilling and less well-paying than the day job but it doesn't matter because I said it's fun and fulfilling. These keep me busy and happy at the expense of all those other little unfinished things that I want to do, but I think that's OK. Those other things will come when the time is right. When not working, I bicycle to places to enjoy the company of the Irish and the fine beverages of their island nation or their importers from Stamford, CT.

Useless knowledge and word thing stuff making. NYC History. Really good at that. Screw it. All history. "It was before my time" is not a valid excuse for not knowing something. 99% of recorded history is before your time.

Wit, wiseassery and wocabulary. German.

BBC Documentaries, classic movies, popcorn movies, the four B's of Bob, Beatles, Beethoven and Bruce. Apparently anything featuring alliteration, too, I guess.

Duh. Add Bach to the list. History books. Things about cryptography and Bletchley Park.

Moderately obsessed with anything including Steven Fry.

Aluminum bottle of water, sunglasses, (don't hate me) laptop, a flashlight, a knife, genetically proven charisma. And a bike. That's seven.

If I were to do an optional wise ass list I'd go with: electrons, Newtonian physics, calories, lysosomes, ozone, synaptic pulses and Tullamore Dew.

Speeches I would give if I were in Congress. Excuses I would give if subpoenaed by Congress. Half-finished inventions. Half-finished story ideas. Half-finished... well it's all pretty much half-finished. Except the Guinness. That's finished. And trivia questions. I write a lot of trivia questions. I think it's stupid to call it a corn maze when you can call it a maize maze.

maybe at work on the later side. Maybe out early for drinks then home early because Fridays sometimes suck. Maybe out with friends late. I don't know. Don't judge me.

I ran down a vagrant in my Dusenberg while Chaz and I were on the long journey home from the Harvard versus Yale football contest. Why my Dusey walloped the traveler like a Yalie freshman on the field of play. We wrapped the hobo's lifeless form in our raccoon coats and rolled it into a gully. We sped north to Chaz' lodge in Saratoga and vowed never to speak again of that night unless referencing those scoundrels at Yale and their ignominious 7 to 3 defeat at the hands of our beloved Crimson. That winter, at the salon in the Hotel Grand, we shared a meat pie with that cracker of a fellow Herman Ruth.

Anything I've said is moderately interesting. I know it's not, because it's all broad brush strokes of mundane chit-chat. But hell, maybe you think my picture is decent. Your call!