I knew who I was this
morning, but I’ve changed a few times since then.
-Alice in Wonderland
I talk to myself constantly. That’s not to say I don’t
find you interesting enough to converse with, I just find myself more fascinating.
-Kenneth Goorabian
Don’t take it personal. My
wife doesn’t. Although she will let out a scream reminiscent of Jurassic Park’s
main attraction if I repeat myself more than two (three is my average) times.
But I understand. It’s sometimes difficult living with all of us.
According to her, I have more
than a few personalities lurking within. Let’s not confuse this with crazy. I’m
not stand-on-a-street-corner and yell at people crazy. Squirrely might be a
better term.
Here’s a typical exchange.
Me: “That looks good. I think
I’ll wear that. But, the color makes you look fat.”
Her: (From the other room) “Are
you talking to me?”
Me: “No. Stop interrupting us.”
I believe her when she says
it’s like living with mini- me’s.
The Musician Me
The ultra-cool (coulda been a
contender) rock star me. Been slinging the ‘ol six-string since I was knee-high
to a Vox AC30. That’s cool musician talk for “I’ve been playing guitar as long
as most Congressmen have been in office, but unlike them, haven’t got rich or made
an intern cry.”
The Fashionista Me
How do I love thee, oh, Heidi
Klum? Let me count the ways. Fashion and
rock –n- roll go together like a Chinese spare rib. Brightly colored and
slightly greasy.
I’ve been experimenting with fashion since junior high, when
on the first day of 7th grade I wore a cow-hide (sorry, PETA) poncho,
white skintight pants and knee-high boots. I was a hit for the first five
minutes until they politely (ha, this was the ‘60s) told me to go home and
change. Now I live vicariously through televisions shows like Project Runway
and America’s Next Top Model. Pretty fly for a straight guy.
The Hypochondriac Me
After starting out my young life
with a string of hospital stays, I’m sure it would come as no surprise I might occasionally
self-diagnose my illnesses. So far, I have had cancer three times, two heart
attacks, flesh-eating disease and a hundred or so runs-ins with Ebola, e coli,
and the fish one, Salmonella. I attribute my miracle recoveries to prayer and
fasting (gave up Del Taco bean and cheese burritos for a year). My wife gives
the credit to eating unprocessed food, my therapist, and a lifetime
prescription for anti-anxiety medication.
The Fitness Me
I adore working out. Okay,
not true, but I do love my skinny jeans, so workout I must. I split my time
between running and lifting. I have installed a 40-lb toilet seat cover so when
I run to the bathroom 10 times in the middle of the night I work the biceps lifting
the seat. Just kidding. Really, I just
run up and down the hills of Fullerton, which at my age is akin to taking the
stairs to the top of the Empire State building three times a week with a
backpack full of Jumbo Jack’s. I also lift weights for maximum moob control. For
you lazy/busy guys, they now have men’s Manx shirts with built-in pecs and
shoulder muscles. Can you say, “Ahem,
turn out the lights, Honey, while I slip into something more comfortable and
chubby”?
I once used biking as my weight-control
method. The only problem with biking is
I had to ride ten times as far to achieve the same results as running. The upside was I had a much better chance of
outdistancing the coyotes if they suddenly developed a taste for aged beefcake.
The Humorous Me
I believe he is my wife’s
favorite.
You can shower a woman with love, attention and gifts,
but if you can’t tickle her fancy, she will likely go looking for someone with
a bigger feather.
-Kenneth Goorabian
What
a long, strange trip it’s been.
