Designer, Illustrator, Painter, Furniture Maker, Improviser etc.
Haiku version: (because haiku is fun)
Fuzzy balls afloat,
Let me design that for you,
While Meryl Streep cries.
*over sound of crunching popcorn*
(because first person without I-statements is hard!!!)
I love playing tennis more than anything. I would play every day if it paid well. I'm a decent (4.0-4.5) player, and play 3-4 times a week in leagues and/or with elderly Russian men.
I work as a Graphic/UX Designer and Software Engineer during the day, and a freelance illustrator in the evenings.
I've taken a zillion different classes and always have a bunch of partially completed projects on the line.
I love movies and make it a point to see all of the Oscar Best Picture nominees, as well as the shorts.
I blow most of my money at various restaurants. I should cook more, but a week of pho gets stale by the end.
The long version: (for you sexy, sexy readers out there)
Mistakenly conceived in the back seat of a college Forensics team bus, raised by a gin-soaked olive loving mother to be an artist, pushed by an All-American sports loving father to be an athlete, I had no real choice but to be a balanced triumvirate of dorky, artsy, and sporty; and I value that same balance in my partner.
I want to lie in my living room on a barely functioning hand-built mid century modern sofa with my partner, sprawled out, arms flailing as though attempting to imprint an imaginary ganesha snow angel, binge-watching Battlestar Galactica while straddling a five pound bag of Starbursts impulsively purchased on sale at Menards. I am hushed occasionally as I gasp out in a voice reminiscent of Marlon Brando in 'Apocalypse Now', "I can't possibly eat another Stahhhburst," while simultaneously being drown out by the crinkling wrapper of just that. I roll my head to the side, sneaking a glance at the clock. Realizing we're gonna be late for mojokickball, I engulf my partner in my lanky arms and legs, roll us off the couch, pin her to the carpet, place my palm on her chest (as I once did to my poor siblings) and call out "Kali Mahhhh" ala Temple of Doom, inciting a scrunched up dichotomous face of amusement and competitive spirit, causing her to kick and squirm free laughing. We both let out the groan of interrupted gluttony, slide on our shorts and tshirts, lace up our tennis shoes, and head to mojo. (or broomball, tennis, etc.) If we're feeling particularly death-wishy, we take my motorcycle. Following a sweaty afternoon of base running, friendly hugs, and the requisite post-game tacos, we head back to the house to soak up some sun in the garden, playing one of my favorite seasonal games, "Taste That Weed," to see if the leafy greens in my clenched fist are actually basil or need to be yanked like Big Bang Theory. (That's right, faux-nerds; I just shit on your TV show!) Tarred and feathered agrarian style in dust-covered sweat and sunburn, we retreat indoors for some alone time with our various unfinished art projects. You wink at me as you head to the garage with your welding mask, and I volley your wink with a whistle that would make a stereotypical construction worker proud, adjusting my glasses to focus on the amaranth seeds that compose Leonard Nimoy's face. (I enter crop art in the State Fair. This year's pieces were Spock and Bill Cosby in seeds!) After a few hours of my partner spewing toxic fumes (from welding!) and my spraying ant-inviting seeds all over the dining room carpet, we shower and get dressed up to see a show. (I have Guthrie season tickets, as I'm a sucker and can't say 'no' to the nice lady on the phone apparently. After throwing back a few strong drinks, consuming a rousing Shakespearean tale of mistaken identity, my partner being yelled at by the usher for putting her feet up (again!? (be a lady!!)), enjoying a riverfront walk draped in my coat and shivering arms, and perhaps stopping in to catch the tail end of a friend's improv show, we head home. We pop the cork on a bottle of wine, construct a couch fort (if we bothered to dismantle the prior fort), get out the Scrabble or Agricola board, and play until someone wins or takes off their clothes. After a long night of vivid dreams in each others' arms, we wake up and do it all over again.
Why am I on this site?
Almost all of the women I meet are great, dateable, etc. — really.
I'm not willing to settle for a ho-hum relationship.
Is it too optimistic to hope (and hold out) for a really great fit?
That said, I'm more than happy to meet new friends out here.
With my life:
I want to learn to make and do anything and everything before I die. (...if I die (I hold out hope I'll make it to the Robot Age.))
I'm a Jack of All Trades...
Illustration — ask to see my portfolio, if you wish
Game of Thrones — I wake up humming the theme
Archer — you need to watch this, if you haven't
Clue — this movie is the bg music to my life
Bad Robot — the movie/show writers
Olives — my favorite food ever
Modest Mouse — so imaginative
Chipotle — eat there almost daily
Scrabble — You will not beat me. Bo or jo, the oe will blow.
Improv — love improv and the great people I've met
Tim Curry — he's just plain awesome
There's a Monster at the End of This Book — best book ever
Cabin in the Woods — made me so happy
Crafts — this one seems generic, but I'll leave it
Charlie Kauffman — wish he churned stuff out faster
Knitting — took classes just to prove that pants can be knit
Sewing — for tailoring and upholstery
Packers — born in WI, can't help this
GSP — once he's on top of you, you're done
Twins — I'm from WI, but I root for the Twinkies
30 Rock — The last episode of season 5 has soured me.
FOTC — Why did they stop at 2 seasons?
RHPS Soundtrack — the best cd imo
SNL — grew up watching this every weekend
The Westing Game — yeah, I included a Newberry winner
Inception — I find this movie to be super romantic
Costumes — I love everything about Halloween
The Wire — especially season 3
Showtunes — If I were gay, I'd tell you
Khan's — all you can eat spicy garlic stir fry
Wrath of Khan — the best of the Star Trek movies
Milan Kundera — just put this in here to seem cooler
Conan — O'Brien and "the destroyer"
Peep Show — hits home; watch it
Agricola — my new favorite board game
White Stripes — Jack White is (still) a god
Beck — Did you know he's a Scientologist!? (sad)
Bowie — even in Labyrinth
Shatner — the singing, the ego, Star Trek
Scott Walker — the singer, not the governor
Chess — love chess, hence my user name
Broomball — these legs weren't made for ice
Synecdoche,NY — see this, if you haven't
Eternal Sunshine — you love this too
Sunshine — I need to get more of this
MTGD&D — don't judge me
Garlic — fact: it's good for your prostate
This American Life — always wonderful
FireFly — Joss Whedon needs to bring this back
Groundhog Day — best message of any movie ever
Kill Bill — Don't kill him. Can't you see he loves you!?
The Game — love that twist and David Fincher
King and I Thai — I miss it and hope it returns
Tarantino — always happy to see his name on something
Coloring Eggs — I don't mess around.
Carving Pumpkins — I usually skin the pumpkin. Yeah.
Rock Climbing — I'm not good, but it's fun.
*dramatic turn to the camera*
Could this be YOU?
*holds stare 6 seconds longer than is comfortable*
I once crapped my pants on a golf course. Yep. Due to (non-recurring (really!)) food poisoning, I had a #2 on #2. I was wearing (previously) white shorts too; not since the Challenger explosion has an o-ring failure been so freakin' catastrophic. Most people would have given up and waddled home. I rubbed some dirt on the back of my shorts to hide it and finished the round, still outscoring my little brother. (which I will never let him forget...'cause that's what big brothers do)
You want a tennis lesson/partner.
You want to play mojokickball with us on Sundays.
(see www.mojokickball.com for rules)
You don't cut the faces out of your photos like a freakin' serial killer.
Just write me if the mood strikes you. It really is that easy.