What is this asshole talking about?

I tell stories. Be it in the form of cliché-ridden screenplays, sappy, introspective novellas, pompous and overwrought short stories or self-indulgent, derivative poetry. The bottom line is that I have a fever, and the only cure is to write it down and make others suffer with me.

Sometimes I make baaaad movies. Sometimes I make videos. Sometimes I write articles on movies for various magazines and websites. Sometimes I eat peanut butter with a spoon.

I review movies and conduct interviews with la creme de la creme of the B-movie industry for  www.eyecrave.net . Sometimes, just sometimes, people actually read the smelly goop that I slather into my laptop and post to the intrawebnet.

Also, I am full of shit. I am the most handsome and deservedly talented fucker you have ever laid eyes on, and I have the penultimate sense of humor in the known Universe.

Did I forget to mention my rampant egotism? The crippling Napoleonic Complex? The Bi-Polar thing? The OCD? Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from a bad haircut I suffered in 1988? Irritable Bowel Syndrome? The horrifically malformed nail on the big toe of my left foot? Pathological Need For Attention? No?

Works for me.