I Am…

I AM…

 

A College graduate.  I sold my diploma and the picture frame it was in for cat food.  I do not have a cat.  And I, myself, am not hungry.

 

I work in the county jail as a scientist.  The confusion helps conceal my experiments.  You’ll thank me when I finally invent “shoes.”

 

I write poetry about the class warfare betwixt pens and pencils.  “We are not so unlike one another,” is a line I use when I empathize.

 

I still can’t afford to let my parents know about my secret half-sister, half-Dalmatian. I gave her her middle name.  It’s Alan.  Betsy Alan Doggy.

 

I have over 40 bowls in my lazy-Suzann.  Lazy?  She works all the time and still never gets ahead.

 

I am full of processed meats and assorted Halloween candy.  I draw strength from empty calories.  And guess what?  Chicken butt!

 

I feel almost nothing when I see a bird.

 

I’ve memorized your address and your Social Security number.  Yes, you!

 

I can’t remember what time Jeopardy comes on. 7:30?

 

I support the notepad industry.
I am the .000000001%