Since it is now 1:39 am on a Wed, which means get up early and work, one thinks of it the PERFECT time to speak of ones grand self in the third person
One is currently 24.75678 years old. (Rough guesstemation of course)
One is enamored with games of all kinds. Computer online games, (one just won 150K fake money on two hour poker binge), MMORPG's, (one has curbed that urge for the time being, one can distinctly remember a whole semester of college spent on *gasp* runescape for NO REASON), card games, (one is involved in a Magic the Gathering google group at the moment), and just plain video games.
One is made of beer, the king of beverages.
One's mind is temporarily a marajuana field, one knows that the weeds are eating away at the memory and thought processes, but one believes they are ending up in a safe place in a parallel dimension where they are not only NEEDED they are used as currency, those wonderful thoughts are coming to fruition elsewhere with the hope of a better tommorrow
One realizes one cannot spell without a spellcheck
One has been reading since one was about three years old, and has not missed a year, nay, a season without a novel of some sort. (Fiction is one's playground)
One swears to never speak of oneself in the third person again, the (second) self realizes it hates this and hates the type of people who do this sort of thing, but the (second) self is too tired to fight one, so one's ranting and raving will continue unabated.
One is a drummer in a punk rock band, and is going to be a rock star of epic proportions.
One is too tired to write anymore. One will come back to this later