^{® corbis}
Brandenburgh's Gate
Best viewed with Microsoft Internet Explorer 4.0+ @ 800 X 600 screen res.

Who am I?

But who am I . . .really. . .

I am Spartacus.

But Betty, when you call me, you can call me Al . . . or Steve Martin.

^{® Stevemartin.com
(not part of my site)}

***
Son-of-a-mother! Brother to others. Uncle and friend. Unfashionable trend. I am the all singing, all dancing *sap* of the world. I'm not your average Joe -- I'm Lance, pay attention!

Halfway past Hopeless, we touched down in the Desert of Despair at the 5:00 of our discontent. Walking out of the terminal, I inhaled a deep breath of the stale fresh air.

Funny, this didn't taste like Detroit.

The goat nibbling on my soft suede aviator windbreaker -- a steal at $59.99 and priceless for the comfort, available in plus sizes -- gave me an odd stare as if to say: "I will not be a pawn in your games again!!" I walked to the snack bar and asked the aged Asian man behind the music behind the counter if he had a Snickers™ candy bar. Shocked at my brand name reference, he plolitely yet sternly said:

"No®, now You© leave Me™ alone!"

An adorable young girl looked at me with an innocent expression and told me I smelt funny.

"No, I do not." I replied, as I put a flower to my ear and inhaled deeply.

I could tell it was going to be Monday all day -- alas, it was Wednesday night.

What am I?

One time on Reading Rainbow they said that if you were to sell the chemicals and materials that compose the human body in the quantities present there, you'd only get about $12.50. This just further proves my theory:

Auctioning off your body, piece by piece, is NOT a sound retirement plan!

How am I. . .

going to explain the elephant in my pajamas .
^{(not part of my site)}

When am I . . .

ever going to learn --

to

PUSH

the PULL doors

and --

DOH!

Why am I?

Are you sure you want to ask that?

What I do.

You can too. . .

And I thank you.

L i v e
A m a z e d

Top of Page