Who am I? That’s a good freakin’ question. Trying to write a description of one’s self is a lot like trying to force a chicken to lay an egg, it’s not easy, there’s gonna be some yelling, and in the end you may or may not end up with a piece of crap. But what the hell, I’m going to give it a try.

I’m a woman, duh. I’m liberal, progressive, a bleeding-heart and all that jazz. I live in a very busy suburb of Washington, DC and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I despise the country. More then three days in a rural community and I have panic attacks about how long it would take an ambulance to reach my location. I work in politics, and volunteer in politics, and typically if I’m not watching TV, I’m doing something political. Politics keeps my world spinning, well and yours too actually, where would we be if we didn’t have politics? If you said living in caves and killing our neighbors for their pretty loin-cloths you are today’s winner.

Weight has always been my Achilles heel. I hate my fat and at the same time love that I’m curvy. I have great boobs, and beautiful hair…and that’s pretty much the extent of things I like about my myself. I’ve yo-yoed, I’ve crashed dieted, I’ve exercised and puked, still I always seem to eventually end up where I am now; fat, depressed, sitting on my couch in my underwear eating Sorbet to reruns of Dharma and Greg. And yet, I kind of like sitting in my underwear eating Sorbet, watching Dharma and Greg reruns, that show is really funny.

I have lots of friends who love me, a fantastic family, and a boyfriend that I think loves me and I may or may not love in return. When I think of him I simultaneously plan our wedding and plot my escape route. I’m a commitment-phobe looking for a long-term relationship. I’m a pretend wine-snob and I despise domestic beer. I only paint my toenails, even in the winter when I will never be wearing shoes that reveal them and I secretly read Anne Rice novels late into the night.

My fish tank has turned into a killing field as one after another of my aquatic pets have ended up belly up, floating in the weeds of the tank. Because of this I wonder if I should be trusted with children and small domesticated animals.

I go to movies by myself, but only matinées and I’ll usually buy two tickets and pretend I got stood up. Musicals make me giddy, I always sing along despite the pleas of my roommates to stop. Halloween is my favorite holiday and I always go way overboard. I’m the girl people confide in, despite the fact that I’m not very good at keeping secrets. Gay men love me, lesbians hit on me, and straight men think of me as their funny kid sister, completely a-sexual and built to listen to their women problems.

I despise the term “lady friend,” and enjoy strip clubs. My grandfather was the only man to get away with calling me “sweet pea,” and the idea of eating a tomato makes me physically ill.

After babbling for nearly a page, I can only end by saying, I’m unique, just like everyone else. And somehow the idea of being just like everyone else in uniqueness is very comforting.