S Willy B. — Who I Am

A Statement (12/7/05)

I'm an aspiring sports writer and wiseass who covered the Mets and Skankees this summer for MLB.com. I majored in PR at UNC-Chapel Hill because I like collar-popping sorority girls and their Vera Wang quilt bags (which upon review don't exist. I hope you realize that proves I was kidding.) It also gives me an out if I pull a Doc Gooden and waste my massive potential.

I haven't gotten a cold in six-plus years, I sneeze in odd numbers greater than or equal to five and I have a small scar just inside my hairline from where I was once hit in the head with an aluminum baseball bat at a Jewish summer camp. I was a day camp counselor there, and I used to amuse my campers by holding my breath for a long time while swimming underwater. I would often scare the lifeguards by lying motionless on the bottom of the pool for more than a minute. They repayed me by letting me drown once. Almost.

I get in a fair amount of girl trouble without really trying (okay, I'm being modest ... a lot of girl trouble) and have had one relationship last longer than a month-and-a-half. However, I was in ninth grade at the time and we never got past holding hands. I often get myself involved in complex situations without developing relationships, which makes for great story fodder. I then write fiction that stems from real-life situations, playing out twists that didn't happen in reality. I believe all of this results from internal pressure to match my parent's dating record of six weeks, six months, 28 years and counting. That would be dating, engaged, married. (Yeah. Six weeks. You try dating with that knowledge flying around your skull.)

I write poetry and post it on this Web site, though there's only one poem up here that could make things weird at the moment. Well, maybe two. The girl(s) don't know anyway. I don't think. I don't talk about my love life in my blog for this very reason, though I'm sure that would make it tons more interesting.

I listen to more rap music than most people know exists, and am convinced Lady Sovereign is that next next ish. I refuse to let one of my boys include Lil' Wayne in his top Five on general principle. However, I'm forced to admit Tha Carter 2 might boost Weezy past my objections. My mother used to work on Broadway and I like me some musicals. I have an inexplicable soft spot for pop rock, best encapsulated by my intensive two-year Avril Lavigne phase. Then she got engaged, and now I'm over it. Skye Sweetnam's iTunes single "Superstar" is playing right now. However, it only leads Alexz Johnson's "Skin" 51-39 in the battle for most played song in my iTunes.

I'm convinced Radio Free Roscoe is the best show on television nobody saw. (The segue? Skye Sweetnam sang the theme.) I think The O.C. is a wonderful piece of trash and House is woefully unappreciated. I also get paid a salary by Fox. I fake buying the hype, but I don't really like most of Adult Swim. This might change now that there's a Boondocks cartoon.

I think anyone who doesn't read The Boondocks regularly is deprived. Regardless of regularity, if they don't like it, then they won't understand me. I don't understand why there's a debate about evolution, why people can't settle for not getting abortions themselves and how people can be racist. However, I'm aware the latter might result from having an interreligious set of parents, a deaf grandmother, biracial cousins, and a childhood in a minority neighborhood that earned me token white boy status.

The amount you know about me right now is likely more than either of us wanted you to. You think you know, but you have no idea.

I still don't know where I heard that last line. I'll be eternally grateful to whoever reminds me where it came from.

Especially if you're cute, single and live in New York.

I'm not sayin, I'm just sayin ...

(Though I did recently find out from a random guy friend of a friend the phrase is the tagline for Mtv Diary.)