Welcome to the illustrious new year of 25 Jason's Era. Have you made a lot of resolutions to improve yourself, perhaps to better mold yourself into my mighty image? Well, good luck, 'cause I'm a hard act to follow. It's a noble, yet futile, pursuit.
I have officially passed the quarter century mark. Only a fraction of animals on Earth only live this long. 25 years. Egads, ony 75 more until I hit the big one-oh-oh!
Looking back though, I have to wonder if all of this time occupying a human shell on this unremarkable planet, masquerading as a member of a race with a terminal identity crisis has been worth it. Well, let's take stock of my accomplishments so far.
I have a job that works my like a dog and pays me peanuts.
I haven't gotten laid for almost two years, and have only a grand total of two chicks under my belt, and they were both lunatics. On the bright side, I have no children.
I drive a Ford Tempo. Used.
I eat boxed pasta mixes and home-made sandwiches.
I have a single pet. A tarantula named Roger.
I need to buy new socks and underwear.
I use white, rough, unscented toilet paper.
I have no money.
My only claim to fame is a gem of a website that nobody ever sees except for a handful of disturbed people.
All in all, my plans are coming along nicely. Soon I shall ride to power, held aloft by a tidal wave of fanatical supporters. BEWARE MORTALS! BEWARE!