My Life is Lame

I realize the title of this blog is My Life is Lame, but I’m starting to think, maybe I’m not that lame. 

For starters, I’ve got great hair.  Model hair.  It turns the heads that hold up lesser hair.  It evokes jealousy in others the way my perfect locks fall on my head.  I’ve had salon owners offer me discounts just so they can touch my hair.  

When God wanted to create something beautiful, a piece of art that could be admired by millions, he created my hair.

(Honest to the G-Man, I’m a humble guy.  I promise.  But if you saw my hair, you’d understand.)

Also another reason why I’m not lame, I’ve been in New York City for less than a year and I’ve already been promoted 3 times.  Sure, it’s probably because of my hair, but hey, that’s still pretty opposite of lame.

So what I once got hit by a bike, or yelled at by a police officer for shouting to much because I saw a taco bell, I’ve done pretty well for myself.

I always have food on my table, I’m pretty healthy, and I don’t owe anyone money (except for the homeless guy in the subway who keeps telling me I do.)

So as I sit here, watching Gangs of New York (Cameron Diaz as a red head is, I’m sorry, just not that pretty) I’m feeling pretty satisfied with my non-lame. 

Of course, on my way out tonight I’ll probably get hit by a car.