Write a little about yourself. Just a paragraph will do.
I tan like Dracula;
I drive like Mr. Magoo;
I made the Devil do it;
I golf like Helen Keller;
I type like Django Reinhardt;
I have Van Gogh's ear for music;
I take directions like Amelia Earhart; and
my car smokes more than Blanche duBois.
What I’m doing with my life
Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
Of late, I'm focused on becoming the CEO of a bankrupt corporation.
Really! I've been wrecking things for free ... all ... these ...
years ... But, it turns out that, with the right connections, I can
score a golden-parachute for ruining a perfectly respectable
business. If you know of a good opportunity, please let me know and
I'll forward a summary of my salary/vacation/bonus needs as well as
a detailed history of the swath of destruction that lies in my
I’m really good at
Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
... dating the wrooooooong wimminiz ... ಠ_ಠ
The first things people usually notice about me
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
I'm hungry when I wake up and I'm sleepy when I eat.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Help your potential matches find common interests.
The six things I could never do without
Think outside the box. Sometimes the little things can say a lot.
NOTE TO SELF: Insert magnum opus (with mercurial emphasis on
contrived sincerity) to thereby induce swooning fits in (now
smitten) readers stemming from besotting repartee embodied therein.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Global warming, lunch, or your next vacation… it’s all fair game.
... how things ever came to this. You're out there ... somewhere
... like ... all amazing and available. And, I'm like ... well ...
at least one of us is amazing. Seriously, why are you here anyway?
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
... continuing my deeply personal and highly publicized crusade
against the unrelenting forces of sobriety. ô¿~
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
I was raised in a nondescript corner of middle-class suburbia. My
ancestors hail from Sicily, on my Dad's side, and Poland (that'd be
Dad was a TOTAL handful and the 20th century Italo-American
experience stitches its way through my childhood memories. We're
talking: a marriage spanning six decades and as many children;
seemingly boundless Neapolitan cuisine; a menagerie of pets to make
Noah proud (four cats, three dogs, an endless stream of fish with
surprisingly short life spans, a tadpole named Biscuit, yet another
dog, four ducklings and an hermaphroditic turtle); epic Monopoly
games (fun to win! fun to lose!); endless refrains of Junior
Birdsman, Great Big Globs, and the Diarrhea Song; Three Stooges, A
Christmas Story, and Twilight Zone marathons repetitively
flickering their way through the holidays; passionate arguments
over the burning issues of the day (such as whether the Pacific is
a greater ocean than the Atlantic); and flamboyant gesticulations
(in case you couldn't hear someone yelling over ... a l l ... t h a
t ... y e l l i n g).
Although I lighted from dysfunction-junction decades ago, I'm
inclined to believe the residue of that bygone era still courses
through these veins.
You should message me if
Offer a few tips to help matches win you over.
... you'd like to:
1. attend an exorcism with the Pope;
2. share a sumptuous repast of mosquito knees and broken glass at
the city dump; and/or
3. go disco dancing. (Yup ... I actually did this for one woman. I
STILL don't know what was I thinking, but I will NEVER forget what
I was feeling.)
Peace and light on your way~
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