The present

So that brings us to the mostly nonfictional present. I am currently working on an Englush major at the pointy, lighthouse-themed university pictured above. I should theoretically wrap this up in about 1.5 years. After that I will either continue on to get a B.Ed and become an art teacher, or move to China, or become a pirate.

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2005

My first quarter century on earth was rounded out by my quest to become the 265th pope. As you know, Josef "Ooh, I'm 78, I'm so special" Ratzinger narrowly edged me out. A mistake which quickly became evident when he chose the title "Pope Benedict XVI"(PB 16), which CLEARLY has the same abbreviation as peanut butter! Seriously papal conclave, what were you thinking? Sure, my pope hat is really just a piece of paper taped to my head, and I'm not Catholic, but still.

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2003

I've never really been adept at catching onto trends, which explains why I had a mullet about 12 years after they went out of style. I know what you're thinking, "Can mullets ever really go out of style?" A valid question, after all, this puzzle has baffled sages from Socrates, to DesCartes, to Winger. All I know is that I'm doing my part to bring the mullet back. Can you say the same?

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1985-1999

The balance of my childhood is somewhat hazy, but can more or less be represented by this Leave it to Beaver boardgame.

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1984

Fortunately for my 2 remaining sisters, I soon outgrew my cherubic vampirism. Guided by the moral compass that was the 2 squirrels on my cardigan, I decided to use my abilities for good. Between countless naptimes, I slowly honed my skills until I was able to jump on a trampoline without getting ice cream on my face.
Regrettably, having moved to a Soviet satellite state, we were forced to boycott the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, just as my ice cream/trampolining powers were at their peak. I was doubly crushed, not only was I denied the chance to shine in all my squirrel-cardigan glory, but it turned out the Olympics were not a giant ice cream/trampolining festival at all.

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1983

Little did my parents know, though chubby and shaggy, I was no yak master. Tragically, they had spawned a 3-year-old vampire.

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1980, June 7th

"I sense a chubby disturbance in the force."

In a quiet goat-herding commune, high in the Nepalese Himalaya, a wee lad was born. His name was Chubby Yak Master the Shaggy (later to be changed to David Henderson).

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