Drumroll, please. . . .Ta-da.

Glassy-eyed from my most recent brain cell depletion---thanks to a teacher's best friend in the summer: the internet (though, say me and internet had been BFF, oh back in 6th grade, I'm positive my mom would have never let me spend the night at their house. Not even if she had met internet's parents, because that would be Al Gore, of course.)---I'm inspired to announce the arrival of the world's newest and most adorable blogger: me.

I was born 2 and a half weeks late, the morning after Thanksgiving 1977, a human bowling ball/Butterball, if you will, at a robust 9 lbs. 13 oz. And in comparison to my friends, I was always the last socially (a position I landed because I was the first in anything not gross motor skills-related)---to drive, to date, to graduate Primary (flashback: me trying to blend into the wall during the my last Primary program in 1989 as the only 11-year-old in the 7th grade, trying to devise some scheme so I can still face my friends the next day in junior high). Thus, it's only fitting that my blogging arrival comes only after all the cool kids have been doing this for years, and after I'm totally bloated with the weight of my own self-importance and entitlement, owing to multiple degrees (which have taught me how to interrupt others without feeling guilty because my opinions are more correct and important than anyone else's), emotional baggage that exceeds FAA weight standards, and the influence of riotous 8th-grade boys (who, incidentally, have taught me more about the way a man thinks than the combined frustration of all past relationships with boys my own age).

Anyways, I'm happy to be here with all the smartest people I know, who express themselves so brilliantly---I mean, it's poetic when they go number 2, I swear! For now, I'm just aiming for a beautifully pontificated burp to echo once or twice in my kitchen. And that's aight wit me.