How does it feel to be me?
What a profound question. It begs such a loaded answer… if only I were a more layered and deep person I might be able to indulge that response adequately. But, reality leaves me with a simple palette to describe… and so, you endure.
A detailed history? I can safely assume no one wants to hear that… and so, you endure.
It began with an airplane ride and my life followed the trade winds thereafter. Personal highlights would include: my stint with the Las Vegas Thunder as the team bench; the time I ate the bowl and THEN ate the soup; the many years I spent in a Winnipeg prison (yes, there are many) with the Hurricane (Bob Dylan wrote the song for me you know, but do I see an adapted movie of my life? No. And Blonde on Blonde doesn’t count).
Of course, the other high points I could not possibly discuss in this company for the safety of the royal families in many countries. If they knew I was the last remaining Irish Romanov, I might have to wed the single surviving Bourbon. Regretfully, I will never betroth to the honourable Sir Gary Coleman.
And Finally.
This is where you dramatically drop your mug on the floor in a suspense-filled slow motion.
How does it feel to be me? Marmalade and warm Sundays, old chum. Marmalade and warm Sundays.
If you call that living. And so, you endure...
How about you.
What’s Happening?
