July 9, 2008

This blog is NOT egocentric...it's just all about me. (said with tongue firmly planted in cheek)

I am a dynamic person.
I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently.
Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed and I cook 30 minute brownies in 20 minutes.
I have become an expert in stucco, a veteran in love and an outlaw in Peru.
I play bluegrass cello, I am the subject of numerous documentaries, and I bat .400.
I enjoy urban hang gliding.
On Wednesdays after I teach school to poor inner city children, I repair electrical appliances free of charge .
I am an abstract artist, a concert analyst and a ruthless bookie.
I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail.
I have been caller number nine numerous times and have won the "weekend passes" too many to count.
My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy.
I memorized the exact location of every food item in the supermarket.
I have performed several covert operations for the CIA.
I have also realized the laws of physics do not apply to me.
I breed prizewinning clams.
I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff diving competitions in Sri Lanka and the spelling bee held at the Kremlin.
Children trust me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge.
I frolic.
All of my bills are paid and I have spoken with Elvis.
But since my blog is not egocentric, I have nothing to blog about today.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thanks Love for putting up with all this ego-mania all these live long days...years. Okay, lives. You're a saint.

Editor's Note: I originally plagiarized this for my 10th HS reunion "whatcha been up to all these years" brag book many, many years ago.


Sheila said...

it's your bloG right? it can be whatever you want it to be. I enjoy it, as do many others.

Sheila said...

I sure thought I may get an e.mail from you begging me not to turn into... SCOOTER TRASH. Maybe you have better things to do than read my comments. Like...
are your parents there yet?