Autobiography of a Happily Disturbed Individual

          Greetings Earthlings. My name is Drew but my friends call me Droopy and my enemies call me at 2:00 in the morning just to breathe on the phone as if I don't have fricking caller ID. But that's another story...

          Anyway, I spent my formative years...formulating. In a cocoon. Wishing to be "butter" and "fly" when I grew up. This cocoon of mine had a lot of beignets and etoufee, second-line bands and Roman candy stands, and this lovably luckless football team which somehow managed to retain the unconditional love of the citizens despite hardly ever having a winning season. I've heard some Earthlings refer to this cocoon I grew up in as New Orleans, Louisiana. But don't quote me.

          As a youth, I would put "world peace" at the top of my Christmas list because I thought it might be a bit unrealistic to ask Santa Claus for a pony. Like many kids, I grew up believing that you broke your mother's back if you stepped on a crack, that a magical fairy would come and give you money if you placed a loose tooth under your pillow, and that if you swallowed a watermelon seed then a watermelon would begin to slowly grow inside of you and you had better get a doctor to get it out before it grew so big that it BUSTED YOUR BELLY OPEN. I have since learned that mother's back problems have nothing to do with how many sidewalk cracks one steps on in life and that the "tooth fairy" was actually just different members of my family blessing me with loose change whenever I lost a tooth. But I still don't go around swallowing watermelon seeds because you just never know...

          I had my first heart attack at the tender age of 17 when I was startled by a black squirrel jumping out of what I had thought was an empty McDonald's bag and asking me if I had a cigarette. When I got discharged from the hospital, I went back and found the squirrel and said, "No, I don't smoke. And you should cut down, too." Then I smacked him. Not because I am a violent person who condones cruelty to animals, but I was just upset that he had caused my first heart attack to come prematurely. I mean, I was only 17, for crying out loud. Most men in my family don't have their first heart attack until they're at least 17-and-a-half.

          I went to Howard University where I majored in determining a major and minored in creative problem-solving. Upon graduation, I pursued graduate study at the School of Hard Knocks. The school colors there were black and blue and upon enrolling I quickly discovered that they did not honor any of the credits I had earned at Howard. But I decided to stay because I'd always liked black and blue and besides, they had a better basketball team than Howard.

          By the time you read this, I will have already written it. Which means I'm a step ahead of you. Which is my favorite position. I spend my "free" time planning slave revolts but my tendency to procrasinate along with my fits and starts of forgetfulness often cause me to never get around to...whatever it was I was going to get around to.

          My conversation smacks of...smack. My mutant power is converting potentially embarassing situations into full-blown embarassing situations. If one more person calls me a sorry so-and-so, I may just start to believe them. But when someone calls me three-fifths of a human being, I just smile and say, "You know, I was never good with fractions." And if I really want to freak someone out who is getting on my nerves, I just stare at them and slowly sing (Digital Underground-style) "Shimmy shimmy cocoa-puff, wee-wee chocolate crossover," hoping that it will make them go away. It usually works.

          I "read" Playboy magazine for the pictures. The articles suck. I find it very hard to do things the easy way. And so I often find myself tap-dancing on the rings of Saturn while reciting "supercadjfradjalisticexpyalladocious" backwards. To stay in shape, I do no-handed push-ups on beds of hot coals. Doesn't do much for the biceps, but it's a hell of a way to improve your tan.

          Strength has not always been my strongest suit. I sometimes allow myself to be tempted. And so I've gone out on a lot of hot dates that have ended in cold showers. But if I had a dollar for ever female who told me that they loved me and meant it, I would have approximately fifty cents. So I avoid romantic relationships because women tend to cut into my take-over-the-world time. I'm not anti-social. I just don't like you. But those who have the nerve to call me "spacy" might just be right. Because I find that sometimes the best forward motion comes from backwards thinking. So I go up the "down" escalator, use open-mic poetry sets as psychotherapy sessions and use surrogate girlfriends to make real girlfriends jealous (jealous women cheat less).

          Do ya'll remember that old folk tale called "The Emperor's New Clothes"? Well, sometimes I feel like I'm the only fool who can see that the Emperor is actually butt-assed naked. When my insanity has been extra good all week, I let it dress itself up as "eccentricity" and go out for a night on the town. Other times I just sit on the toilet popping bubble wrap, counting the tiles on my bathroom floor in hopes of coming up with a lucky lottery number which I will never use. I no longer fault the world for not understanding me. I just fault myself for understanding that the world doesn't understand me. This makes it seem excusable...like public belching.

          I'm more of a realist than an optimist. So if you tell me that the glass is half full, I'll probably reply, "Half full of what?" Unless I've had some bottlecap shots of Puerto Rican Rum. Then I'll probably reply with something I can't repeat here. But I am optimistic enough to hope that you will understand half of what I just said. If you don't, then in the words of the prophet Redman, "Laugh now and figure the shit out when you get home."

          So if you've ever felt like this universe is full of non-feelers of you and fond stealers of truth, then maybe you can find some insight in the words my pen writes. However, shouldest you be-eth one of the sassy shoo-flies and foolish guys who Drew despise and can't even look Drew in the eyes when they tell their true lies, you need to know that this rather proud non-member of the thine contingent doesn't give a heart-breaking, Harlem-shaking, shoobie-doo-wop-bop, half-chicken, half-scholar, Fruit-of-the-Loom Cosmic Slop Shop, French vanilla, butter pecan, chocolate deluxe Bill Cosby Pudd'n Pop about what ya'll got to say about what Drew dropped or what-not...

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but

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was that hot?

 

The Autobiography of a Happily Disturbed Individual - The No Frills Bio - The Quote-Unquote "Professional" Bio