I’ve always been a private kind of a guy, so talking about myself really isn’t that easy for me. There is a story about one of our presidents whose name escapes me just now. It must be my old timer’s disease. He was at a dinner party and a woman seated next to him whispered, I made a bet that I can get you to say three words. His reply, you loose. I tell you this story because it fits me pretty well.
So where does a man of few words start? I could start with I was born in a log cabin to a share-cropper, but there aren’t that many trees in Berkeley, and though my father could spell share-cropper, that was as close to the profession as he ever got. I’ve been a lot of things and reinvented my self more times than I care to mention, in my now going on fifty-two years. If you were to look at my picture you might guess sixty-two. But that’s whole other story.
So who am I? A self made millionaire and philanthropist? Ah no. Am I a carpenter, along with a whole slew of other trades? Well yes, but I hasten to let that define me. A man who volunteers his time now and again? Yes that too, which by the way, I need to rant on about for a moment.
Have you ever volunteered any where? First they ask you to fill out an application, and then depending on which organization it is, they want you to pay them a fee to join sum inane group. I need to apply or pay you, to work for free? I even had one organization want me to fill out a credit app. A CREDIT APP. I wasn’t trying to buy the place. Hello, nonprofit and city government, earth calling. C’mon people get real. Do they get the work for free part? I have time, you need help, and I’ll even use my own tools. What’s the problem? Sorry about that, it just irks me.
I’m just a guy who loves a good joke, country music, (Yup, I can two step.) his truck, his chosen profession, his two children, a smart horse, and a good woman. Just not necessarily in that order, lest I want a smack to the head. I did say she’s a good woman, right?
What else? Let’s see, I hate being late to just about anything. Yes Robert Lamm of Chicago I do really know what time it is. I’m bilingual. I can speak English, and Redneck. I had once upon a time an upper lip, but that was before the stash. Yup I sport a handlebar mustache, and from time to time a big black cowboy hat. I used to use it in lieu of a hardhat at work. I have had more than one superintendent threaten to throw me off the job site unless I changed it. I guess I was pretty hardheaded about it.
To steal a partial line from apocalypse now, I love the smell of wood in the morning, Clint Eastwood flicks, the older ones. Also who doesn’t love Larry, Moe and Curly? Let’s put them up on Mt. Rushmore shall we. Nak, Nak, Nak, I’m not quite sure how to spell that.
Well I suppose that’s me in a nutshell. I hope you have enjoyed it.
Darrick

Nice to meet you Darrick. Glad you're a part of the community. That part about being bilingual had me cracking up. I saw a Three Stooges movie the other day for the first time in what had to be ten years. Are they off the air? Man those things are great. I will have to introduce myself on here next.

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It’s always great to hear feed back either bad or good. I'm glad you are apart of this community as well. I look forward to reading an introduction about you.
Darrick

You sir get 100 points for sporting a handlebar moustache. A picture would be great.

Sometimes I feel like an emoticon but usually I'm just a plain type guy. The Topic "Something About Me" makes me think: There's something about me but I just can't quite put my finger on it. At least not in public, anyway. Not without raising some eyebrows in skepticism. Or lowering some in reproach. But that's what we've got emoticons for.

I quit going to my therapist when I realized he was trying to stick me with a victim complex. Now I'm having pre-traumatic stress from worrying about post-traumatic stress.

I realized something after my bout with drugs and alcohol, which I'm planning for this summer, I can save myself the trouble of going through rehab by losing my bout with drugs and alcohol. Yeah I'm just gonna throw the fight. Let the dope and booze win if it's that important to them. I'm a bigger man than that.

In preparation for the possibility of becoming a mentally unstable starving artist, I'm gaining weight and losing my mind. I needed to because I wasn't just carrying around emotional baggage, I was driving an emotional U-Haul truck.

I can't earn enough money to pay child support by performing as a dead-beat poet so I'm claiming three co-dependents on my tax return and my kid is filing for piggy-bankruptcy.

My doctor told me, not one, but two pieces of bad news yesterday: I have cancer, and I have Alzheimer's. I'm like, whew, thank God it's not cancer!

So I started doing the self-help circuit. Now I'm trying to kick self help. I read "Conquering Low Self Esteem for Dummies" but I have ADD so I got the cliff notes version, on tape, and in Braille for blind, deaf and dummies.

Sorry I'm having trouble being serious, I know I hide my true feelings behind humor, kind of using it as a humor shield. I'm more comfortable being all up in someone else's business than I am with talking about myself. So I had to pry into someones business who was all up in mine to learn about myself. I discovered I was completely boring so now I'm trying to better myself vicariously through busybodies who can't mind their own business.

So that's me in an nutshell—You may think I'm fruitier than a nut-cake, but one nut's hell is another in a nutshell.

I believe the Spanish enya would come in handy here to spell it:
ñak ñak ñak.