I think that was lightning, dear.

I don't like for my shirts to say anything. I'm very vain, I have fat that needs to go. I have high blood pressure, and go unmedicated. Too many cigarettes, and five pots of coffee a night. I drink beer when I'm not working, but not to excess. I'm entering personal ad territory with this, and I have no need for a personal ad. Socially anxious? Sure. Bad at times. If I see someone out when I'm rolling, I look away and pretend to fiddle with my vehicle intruments so I don't have to answer their wave. I WILL NOT call to order pizza. I have no problem with crowds, absolutely no stage fright, and sometimes take over interactions. I humbly submit that I once was a lot of fun, but I doubt it now. I take my children everywhere. I not so humbly submit that I have a nice turn of the thought. My vanity takes over when it comes to my lightspeed intelligence. I really am several steps ahead of most. Sorry. Sorry for me really, it makes me hard to be understood. Like now. I really like monkeys wearing pants and no shirt. (Seen the 'Trunk Monkey' videos? Those kill me.) I am an excellent horseman, and dislike to ride. I want a helicopter terribly. The nicest compliment I ever received was that I don't have "boy" feet. Ask to see them, I don't mind. My sideburns grow unruly. I've missed lots of opportunities. I'm allergic to gun oil, and I play with guns for a living. Sulla's epitaph fits me squarely. Is this enough? You tell me. There's more.