Please accept my apologies. I have become so enthralled with my rich, full life, I neglected to consider that many of you also have lives. Drab, gray-hued lives, which are probably not very important, true, but there you are anyway, plugging away. I don't want to belabor the point, but I feel I must be specific as far as the greatness of my daily existence, so that we can break down harmful communication barriers. Let me start with a classic example which demonstrates the great disparity in the quality of our lives, the quality of mine being significantly better.

Here's your life: You made some microwave popcorn Lite Butter style, and it came out just right. That's all you did. Yet this is the kind of thing that gets you really excited. Granted, this is better than if you were a malnourished Nigerian--at the same time, you have to admit it's extremely unimpressive. Still, I guess it explains your desperate, insatiable hunger to learn more about me and my personal experiences.

Speaking of, let's look at a quick snapshot from one of my typical days, so you can see why I encounter success with so much frequency: I'm at the beach, and for the sake of argument, we'll say I'm lying there on the sand. Maybe I'm using SPF 30, or maybe I went with 15 today, because I have a bold and fearless spirit which allows for on-the-fly adjustments. The point is, did I forget to transfer that one song to my iPod before I left home? It's like oh no I'm so worried, I still have about 5,000 other songs to choose from, maybe I'll listen to one of those. Literally, the 20 GB iPod is capable of storing around 5,000 songs. Do you see where I'm coming from? Seriously, tell me if I'm not making sense. I have something less than my full arsenal of music, yet my day is still about 20 times better than yours.

Some have inquired as to my ultimate plan, and I suppose that's a fair question. But they ask this as if there's no such thing as public assistance. It's like they're stuck in 1931, before Franklin Roosevelt signed into law various ways to have the government buy you food. What part of me being sent a welfare check is so complicated? The way I understand it, it's not complicated at all. It's called the U.S. Postal Service. After you get the welfare money, you buy cigarettes and other essentials. Then for your food budget, you ask people if they have 50 cents because you ran out of gas and you just want to make it back to LA. Do this 100 times. The rest of the day, you sort of look for a job, but you can't find one, because the temp agency is located on Clairemont Mesa Blvd, not in the ocean. It's not even on the beach, for that matter. And for this reason alone, there are companies out there who have lost a valuable employee. An extremely valuable employee, one who is not willing to compromise his personal honor code which requires 100% beach attendance at all times. What people need to understand is that this honor code I created just now while sitting at my computer shall not be broken for all eternity. It's that important.

I realize that much of what I've said above may seem a little fantastical. What I mean by that is I was basically telling lies left and right. In fact, this whole post is pretty obviously a transparent, pathetic cry for help. Let me be honest for a moment. I have no idea what's going on. All I've learned so far is that beach volleyball is an activity which is good, and should be engaged in whenever possible. Mortgage payments are bad, as are utility bills and not having a corporation available to pay for your cell phone minutes. Not working for that corporation is good, and not working at all is even better, except then the bank takes your house.

To my left lies the help wanted section of the newspaper. Hmm, apparently Bottle Inspector/Filler is a job that exists. There was a point in time when such a job description was good for a laugh, now it's good because they included an email address. Ok, now I will listen to my iPod some more.

San Diego Native signing out!