Braggadocio

  I’m awesome. On a scale of zero to awesome I’m an 18.5, which is above Steven Seagal, but below a Steven Seagal impersonator playing in a Steven Seagal cover band. In the morning I collect the awesome hairs from my nightly shedding and sell them to a shaman who makes potions to cure blindness and impotence.
  I’m awesome when I make cinnamon buns and I’m doubly awesome when I make cupcakes. I look awesome walking down the street; I look awesome riding my bike. When I weed the garden I perform two important functions: getting rid of weeds; and letting the flowers soak up my inherent awesomeness. I’m like the sun x10 to flowers. I’m growing a sunflower inside my house that’s fourteen feet high. Because I’m awesome.
  They say the average male thinks about sex every 25 seconds. I’m so awesome I think about sex every 12.5 seconds. I think about being awesome every 8 seconds. Every three minutes and twenty seconds the two overlap and I think about awesome sex. That’s right, I just solved an algebra problem in my head by using my awesome math skills.
  In seventh grade I was reading at a tenth grade level, which is such an awesome reading level that I decided to stop there. No point in going further. I’d already achieved the level of awesome.
  I realize that others should know about just how awesome I am. So head to your fall out shelters, cause I’m about to drop a knowledge bomb on you: I’m awesome; but I’m not a jerk about it.