All about me

From now on, when I say "Trust me. You really don't want to know." you will not hesitate to agree.


Vital stats:
-Male. (I just checked!)
-27 years of age.
-not married. (As of yet.)
-5'2" inches tall (155 centimeters.)
-73 kilos (which is about 158 pounds.)

Who am I? Dunno.
What am I doing here? No clue.

What was I doing 1 year ago? Teaching paralegal school at CUNY. (City U. of New York. Motto: "We're letting everybody in these days.")

What about 2 years ago? In a gray haze. (No, not the Clinton kind.)

5 years ago? Ahhhh..geez...that's 2000 right? I just finished college. Moved up to New York from Tennessee. Tried to make myself marginally useful, or, failing that, wealthy.

10 years ago? Final year of the eternal firey pit of hell known as high school in the town that shall not be named.

15 years ago? Wow, that takes me back. To 1990. That was 2 years after I moved to the States from Hungary. I remember nodding a lot for no good reason.

20 years ago? Getting ready to storm the Kremlin with Trotsky's bones between my teeth.

25 years ago? Teething. Drooling. Not chewing my food properly. All the things I will be doing again in 60 years, proving that life is really just a big circle.

30 years ago? Thisclose to reincarnation. In the past life I was a banjo strumming, betel nut chewing carpet salesman in the greater Mumbai area. Explains why I may go back. (See shambles.com)

Future aspirations? To make it through tomorrow.

Future plans? Marry you know who. Adopt a few kids. Go respectable, or, failing that, wealthy. In Mumbai. Or maybe not. Maybe Ghana. I haven't decided yet. Austin is a prime contender, although it is in the south and I loathe the south strictly on principle, Atlanta and Miami excepted.

Nicknames? I'm still lobbying for Assassin but may have to settle for Congressman. Or Convict. They sorta rhyme. Until then, it's usually Z. Or Zoli. Or something phonetically related.

The one place on this earth you want to see: Geez, just one? Okay...um....one huh? Oy, decisions, decisions. Well since I'm oying and miss the beaches, I'll go with Eliat, Israel. Yeah it's a tourist trap and who doesn't need to be trapped every now and then? But that said, on my very long list are:

Monogoro, Tanzania- gosh, I hope I spelled it right. It's one of the sites for TanzEd, which is like the peace corps but a lot better organized, at least from what I have seen.

Iceland- I'm a hermit. I have to.

New Zealand- Because the power of Peemil compounds me.

Brazil- The south coast. I daydream about it constantly.

Costa Rica- AKA Gringolandia.

Ghana- I have a friend from Arizona (we met in Israel) who is going there to work for an NGO. If I get all my malaria shots, I would get there.

Cambodia- The last place on earth where you can buy a Qualaade and an Uzi from the same store. What a combo!

Madagascar- Lemur, lepers, leafy veggies oh my!

The one place on this earth you never want to see (again): Humboldt, Tennessee. Believe me, after the first time, the place kind of loses its charm. It's a great destination if you want to confirm every stereotype about white southerners and then some.
Also, Miskolc, Hungary. Scary. Deliverance scary.

Favorite song: Changes all the time. The song I mean. I have 64 artists in my launchcast station- can't play favorites. But...um.... hmmm....the piano solo at the end of Layla is brilliant.

Favorite food: I've been hankering for Hunter's stew lately. (Old Hungarian dish.) Also a philly cheese steak. And above all, a lifetime supply of fresh, ripe raspberries.

Philosophy: It could be worse.

Motivation: It has been worse.

Ambition: Nothing less than the presidency will do. I don't want to be President mind you. I'm just insanely driven. Besides, we all know that George W. will be president for life. Let's not kid ourselves.

Least Favorite food: Anything involving mushrooms, ketchup or pickles.

Least favorite song: A contest between a) fortysomething country music stars talking about incest and b) fortysomething rappers still going on about scoring and dope. And scoring dope. Bastards! They're living my dream!

What I would do with a hundred million dollars: Give it away. I don't think I can deal with being a 100 millionaire. We can discuss five million. Maybe.