emanresuemal
50 Westerly, United States
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emanresuemal
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My self-summary
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
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 an insanely remunerative opportunity, do 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 wake.
I’m really good at
... dating the wrooooooong wimminiz ... ಠ_ಠ
The first things people usually notice about me
I'm hungry when I wake up and I'm sleepy when I eat.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
The six things I could never do without
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
... 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
... 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 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 Mom).

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
... 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. (Yeppers ... 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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