Yeah. I really am.

Trip to narcissisme-land.

I tried to look at my self from an outside view-point, like a person who didn't know me personally, and I was struck by how GODDAMN AWESOME I AM! Seriously! It is seriously impressive just how perfect I am (if seen from the outside that is, if you get to know me, things get a little complicated).

First, with the basics. I'm a redhead. Hot. I chug beer like a dude. I'm smart (doing physics for fun for christ sake). I'm nice. Rarely get angry (even when Danny lost my keys and I had to climb in through my second-story window like a very sexy cat-burglar). I listen to old-school rock (Bowie being God), I can paint and sculpt, fluent in two languages, can get by in a third. I'm naughty in bed (oh yeah I went there), yet look so innocent and can be so polite I have never met a boss or parent who hasn't loved me.

But enough with the trivial awesomeness. What made me really fall in love with the personal-ad that is me. The nail in the coffin, if the coffin was a box made out of pure AWESOME, and filled with MORE AWESOME. I was a professional yoga-instructor. Yoga. Professional. I'm just gonne say that one more time YOGA FUCKING PROFESSIONAL. Think for a minute about how freekin bendable I am.

Oh yeah.

And when I quit as YOGA INSTRUCTOR I of course had to find a new type of exercise to take up. Now, you might be thinking, what could possibly be more freekin awesome than professional style yoga (by the way, we're talking both legs behind the head at the same time. While lifting body off ground with hands. Yeah)? Well. I took up pole-dancing. Awestruck by the awesomeness that is my life yet?

POLE DANCING STRIPPER STYLE!

Yeah.

Can it be narcissisme if it's true?