I am a dynamic figure, often seen working out for three consecutive hours and crushing concrete blocks with my fist.  I have been known to move whole houses of belongings in a single day with little assistance.  I visited a Palestinian refugee camp, watched an approaching storm from a farm in Brazil, and made tracks on Mount Everest.  I win at pachinko 100% of the time I play.

Occasionally, I scale mountains from bottom to top and back for 30 non-stop hours.  I woo men from around the world – including professional athletes and diplomats – with the help of my sensuous abilities in five languages.  I can pilot a bicycle on a high wire with unfailing freedom from fear, and I cook vegetarian dishes from cuisines around the world.

My handprints have been embedded in wet cement for posterity.  I encountered a tall, snorting animal in the dark on the way to an outhouse deep in a Guatemalan night.  My applause was well-received at the Sydney Opera House and Milan’s La Scala.  I am a veteran in love and have avoided paying bribes in sub-Saharan Africa.

Using only a pair of jeans and an iPhone, I once single-handedly defended a house from a would-be burglar.  In the 80s I played Tetris on a Gameboy to a personal best 186 lines.  I am the subject of a rock song.  I enjoy kicking high targets, often while spinning.  On Thursday afternoons I scuba dive to hand-feed fish and rays that are often larger than I am, giving my time free of charge.  I translated between French and Japanese during the entirety of a week for a linguistically challenged tourist in Morocco.

I am a martial artist, a character analyst, and a ruthless cookie monster.  Critics worldwide swoon over my travel stories that take place in mysterious places like Eritrea and Tibet.  I don’t have hair in my armpits.  I am a private citizen, yet strangers follow me on Twitter.  I am the star of a half hour of reality television.  Ten years ago I circumnavigated the globe by ship three times with a Japanese NGO, then opted for a fourth by plane travelling solo.  My GMAT score is in the 97^th percentile.

My deft thinking has gotten me unharmed out of multiple dangerous situations in developing countries.  Stray dogs trust me.  I can jump over barriers on horseback with deadly accuracy.  I have devoured hundreds of books, including many in one sitting.  In a span of 18 months, I worked over forty hours a week, carried on an active social life, and found time to write 900 single-spaced pages.  I know how to dress myself in a kimono and obi, a sari, a bodice, and a man’s necktie.  I have exchanged greetings with rebelling Maoists in Nepal and welcoming members of Hamas in Beirut.  An owl once approached so closely I felt the whoosh of its wings.

While on vacation in South Korea, I stepped into North Korean territory.  I balance, I metalsmith, I donate 10 inches of my hair each time I cut it, I type with a high degree of efficiency on the Dvorak keyboard, and my bills are all paid.  I am motivated by curiosity, possess impeccable integrity, fear boredom, and can use chopsticks with either hand.  My leadership skills extend from the depths of the ocean to African safaris.

Men once erupted in a fistfight over me; neither won.  I changed the tire of an F-1 race car.  The bottom of one of my feet is tattooed.  I threw caution to the wind and licked the wall of an Ice Bar.

I have gone ten days without talking, reading, writing, or technology.  Celebrating Thanksgiving in Namibia and Christmas off the coast of Easter Island gave me peaceful pause.  My leisure activities include hiking across a rainforest, zipping by at 130 miles per hour on the back of a Ducati, and cuddling with baby alligators and pandas.  Without fail, my mattress gets flipped and rotated every six months.  I swam: in the Zambezi and looked over the edge of Victoria Falls; at night in Thailand’s bioluminescent water; and off the coast of Canada at the peak of winter in only a bikini.

I drive stick shift, but so far only on the left side of the road.  I slide in the mud after downpours.  I dive cageless with the world’s biggest sharks.

I have tasted the blood of my (male) opponent.

But I do not yet have a career.

(Based on the satirical essay 3A by Hugh Gallagher, available at http://www-users.cs.york.ac.uk/~susan/joke/essay.htm.  My version happens to be factual.)