51 San Francisco, United States
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My self-summary
I am a sea of contradictions. For the life of me, I can not characterize myself definitively. I have been many different people, all of which equal the whole of myself.
What I’m doing with my life
All are still valid:

Ok, the last one is just not true.
I’m really good at
One thing remains constant. I like females. Personally and globally.

I truly believe that men should be disqualified from running for any political office for at least one whole generation, as punishment for the way the male gender has fucked shit up so badly all these years. I know women aren't perfect either but for fuck sake, this ego-driven macho war bullshit is so counter-productive to the world it's beyond obscene.
The first things people usually notice about me
So, I was watching the Olympics and was feeling mildly patriotic, but then I switched over to the $100,000 Pyramid and Martha Stewart was competing against Snoop Dogg. The patriotism within my bosom swelled to an unprecedented level. No US gold medal can compare to how good it feels to a 21st century American than to see these two giants of American culture go head to head in game show categories such as "Gluten for Punishment," "Getting High in Colorado," and "I'm Mildly Pinterested." USA! USA! USA!
The six things I could never do without
And then Jesus answered him, Jesus said, 'Well, my son...that is when I was helping one of the other five billion people on the planet, you selfish fuck. C'mon! You were walking back to your Malibu beach colony home and stubbed your toe on some driftwood, it's not a fuckin' emergency, alright? There's other people with real problems.'
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Nonsense, twaddle, claptrap, balderdash, gibberish, rubbish, mumbo jumbo, garbage, poppycock, piffle, tripe, bull, hogwash, baloney, codswallop, flapdoodle, jive, guff, bushwa, tommyrot, bunkum, crapola, verbal diarrhea.
On a typical Friday night I am
I saw a rock band last night. They're called Barefoot Hockey Goalie. HI-larious. The show is all based on an opera they wrote about a narcoleptic kid who got frostbite on his feet so he couldn't put skates on but still managed to play in the narcoleptic pee wee hockey league. That's some funny shit right there and if you don't think so then back slowly out of this profile and click the "hide" button.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I don't give a good goddamn.
You should message me if
Message me only in the following format:
Start with a clever witticism. Follow with a gushing compliment. Then add a regurgitation of part of my profile to prove that you read it. Lastly, show examples of overlapping interests to prove compatibility.

Just kidding. That's my formula!

You should just relax and be yourself, only MORE so... No pressure.

And show me your tits!
I'm KIDDING. Jeez.

Ok. Showing tits — optional.

Oh Jesus. The sound of self-righteous, liberated women clicking away is deafening.