Considering how boring it is to go to the clubs at night, do a bunch of coke, and go home with a beautiful woman who insists on performing fellatio repeatedly, I would like to take my own life. But there's just one problem: I'm way too handsome.
From a distance, I appear to be Italian or Native American, muscles rippling, skin tanned, teeth gleaming – and the scent of freshly-applied after shave rising off my face like steam from a quarter-horse.
When you get closer, my distinctly Judaic features identify me as the sort of Israelite who, clad in a linen garment with with leather belt and scabbard, defeated Roman legions, my beard thickening and my penis throbbing with each victory.
Viewed in profile, my face will remind you of the biblical Adam which Michaelangelo painted in the Sistine Chapel.
When I roll up the sleeves of my size S t-shirt, you will see why I am known as "The Fire-hose". And if you think I am going to tell you, or anyone else, the combination of hair products I use, not a chizzy.
As bored as I am with making a guy like Christian Bale look like a Gremlin, there is another reason I want to kill myself: I can suck down more liquor than anybody, and I can do it at altitude. I know a couple of you frat boys got a 340-pounder with Irish or Russian blood who can suck down a pint in a night of drinking. And I don't mean to denigrate their accomplishment when I say that I can do that, drive to this guy's house, drink an entire gallon jug of moonshine, then find the nearest car and cut the brake cables, suck down about four gallons of hydraulic fluid, and bowl a 200.
If it were not for these reasons, I would have to kill myself, which probably wouldn't work, because I'm so tough.