Parts of this profile are ridiculously outdated. I'm working on rewriting it, but in the mean time, this will have to do.

I once had to write a bio for a literary reading to which I'd been invited. This is what I sent them:

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"I was born in a secret government laboratory in the Utah desert in 1947. I was the product of research looking to weaponize whimsy. I own a crescent wrench, but can't seem to find it when I need it. I am made of candy; mostly licorice and marzipan. I was recently published in a literary magazine, but am often at a loss for words when it comes to talking about myself."

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Suffice it to say I try not to take myself too seriously. I'm hoping someone will someday.

I'm a temp. This is no time to be picky about work, and I actually landed a decent job. I also spend a lot of time mentally criticizing your spelling, punctuation, and use of pronouns, but nobody pays me for that.

Eventually, I'm going back to school to get that degree in linguistics I've been meaning to get (it's rare that I hear a language I don't want to learn... coughfinishcough). Catching leprechauns and wishing for the degree doesn't work; they are far too sneaky for me and might not actually exist.

Useless talents: I can say in eleven languages "I am the Cheese of Death." I can bend one of my fingers and both of my thumbs all the way back. I juggle, I sing, I used to act, I know all the words to the French national anthem, and I never lose at Trivial Pursuit.

I am good at putting things off until it is too late.

My height. Unless I'm laying down, in which case, my length.

I'm told I have very nice teeth and eyes, and the eyes are better than ever now that I've had them burned with lasers. And the teeth are the work of orthodontics. Come to think of it, my best features are the artificial ones.

Books: Since November of 2010, I have been very slowly trudging my way through the Autobiography of Mark Twain. I also enjoy reading: Oscar Wilde, Christopher Moore, Judith Martin, and classic children's literature. I dislike the later works of Stephen King.

Movies: Most people say they like movies, so I need different words for my appreciation of film. I make a point of watching dozens upon dozens of movies every year, and I try to see all the Oscar-nominated movies before the ceremony, including the short films. I like Hitchcock, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Polanski, Charlie Kaufman, Dave Foley, Gene Kelley, and too many to list. I dislike Michael Bay, Nick Cage, and the short films of Bill Plympton. I have mixed feelings about Guillermo del Toro.

Music: I sing in a men's chorus, but I don't really get excited about music. I have nothing against music, but nothing much for it, either. Most of the music I own and listen to was recorded before I was born. I have more Broadway cast recordings than I like to admit.

Food: It goes in the mouth. That's all I know. It'd probably be easier to list the foods I know I don't like, but that might just come across as being too negative.

1. A sense of humor - You have one, too.
2. Science and its methods - This is important. I'm sure you're nice and everything, but horoscopes and energy fields are a deal breaker for me.
3. A creative outlet
4. A good pair of shoes
5. Civilization - Camping's nice, except for all of it. (Ed. That's a lie. I've come to enjoy camping recently, but I do still appreciate a city when I see one.)
6. Technological wonders of the modern age - See above.

Witty responses to everyday questions. I don't get much done, but at the end of the day, I have some good zingers, just waiting for the setup.

...at home, watching tv or a movie, with my feet up and a drink in my hand.

I don't get out nearly as often as I'd like to, but I'm perfectly content not to go out. One of these days, I fully intend to go to the opera. Not sure which, since I don't know a damn thing about opera.

I have some unusually flexible joints. Ask me about hypermobility.

Also, I looked at your pictures before I read your profile. I know I'm not the only one who does that, but I feel shallow for it.

...you'd like to hear about the Carol Channing Principle. It's a little theory about film that I developed a few years ago.

...you have a good lightbulb/knock-knock/a-man-walks-into-a-bar/blonde joke to tell me. Or if you have a bad joke to tell me. I have no objection to dirty jokes. I am, in fact, all in favor of dirty jokes. There are presumably no children here, so have at it.

...you want to hear my favorite lightbulb/knock-knock/a-man-walks-into-a-bar/blonde joke.

...you can write a half-decent limerick.