I don’t if you know this about me, but I like to talk.

I kind of realized it last week when my boss said he read my blog (yeah, I know, this could be an extreme tactical error on my part, letting him in on this circus of a life, but, hey, all he can do is fire me, right? I’ll find something else… again) and he thought it was like 3,000 words long.

Now, if you don’t write for a living, I’ll just say that 3,000 words is a fair bit. By ‘fair bit’ I mean it’s like the 3-pound burger challenge. It’s not as big as a 5- or 10-pound burger, but still a lot more than you normally take on and enough to make you puke. And, yes, I said that comparison in food terms for a reason: gotta know your audience (read: you fat fucks).

So, I like to hear myself.

[Sidenote: this post ended up being 1,507 words long, so that’s half what he thought it was last week, just for comparison.]

Whether it’s reading my own words or talking on the phone, or in person, or in my sleep, I like to talk. And I’m good at it.

Honestly, think about all the people you know. Do any of them have the ability to talk about anything, nothing, everything more than I do? Sure there are probably a few that could challenge me, but I have to think that, while I haven’t won many awards in my life, I could take an aimless talking competition without batting a vocal cord on almost any day against most competitors.

I have that way with words and not caring if I know what I’m saying. It’s a gift, thank you much.

[Sidenote: don’t say ‘very’ in that sentence. The word ‘very’ is as useless as any word in the English language. I was told this the first week of my internship at SIU in 1996: any time you see the word ‘very’, replace it with the word ‘damn’. If you can’t do without it, then leave ‘very’ but there will be damn few times you can’t just replace it with ‘damn’, and you can’t use ‘damn’ like that that often. Anyway.]

And that got me to thinking.

Maybe I should start expanding my empire. You know, branch out a little bit.

Maybe I should be a spokesperson for someone. Or something.

I’m kind of surprised some company hasn’t reached out to me already to have me be the face of their product. That bearded dude who OD’d on coke got those infommericals and made a boatload. And the Sham-Wow guy. Isn’t that dude off the second Police Academy movie? I could be so much better, if I only I tried.

And there’s the problem: I really don’t try that hard at anything. Yes, I work hard and like to party hard (at least with all those -aholic names being thrown at me from both, I assume that’s it), but it’s not like I’m really pushing myself or my limits.

Maybe I just need someone to come to me, kind of like the Miller High Life commercial where the delivery guy goes around and hands out personal contracts for the beer to be the Official Sponsor of You.

Where is my sponsorship deal? I’d be better than a NASCAR driver dropping in ad placements and product pushes.

But then the next question is obvious: What would the “official products of me” be?

Here’s a list of five things I’d love to be associated with more than my current situation allows:

Old Style beer
If you’re going to have someone sign a personal contract to be the official something of that person, it really should be something 1) the person loves and 2) the person can stand having every day, day after day, month after month.

A more likely candidate I cannot think of.

I have a screen saver on my personal cell phone that’s a great looking Old Style can sitting on the railing I made for the deck on my first (and only to date) house in Lincoln. It’s also the background on my Twitter page.

I look at it every day and remember it’s taste, the refreshing qualities it possesses and the all-around awesomeness of me when I drink it. It’s really terrible that it’s not sold down here in Georgia, but if they were to have me be a sponsor, I bet I could get some shipped in. I may have to work on this one.

Cheese
Another one close to the top of my list if I had to choose only one thing to be a sponsor for.

I was born in Wisconsin, and while I moved to Illinois at some age after 1 day (a lot of things in my personal history from back then are still a bit grey, shall we say), I grew up 20 minutes from Wisconsin. I still have family there (although, with my fucked up family tree, I probably have family in like 43 states, but still this and Illinois are the primary two) and the Badgers are my favorite team.

True, I have a fondness for Nebraska (mainly because they paid me for 10 years and gave me free gear), but when truth be told and the money factor is taken out, it’s a real toss up between the Badgers and Huskers for me. When we go out to Nebraska’s first game in the Big Ten Conference on Oct. 1 at Camp Randall Stadium in Madison, I’m going to be totally torn. I’ll likely wear a Husker shirt since that’s where I’ll (hopefully) get my tickets from, but there may be a Badger hat on my head.

Either way, I will be eating cheese that day and probably every day leading to it and after. Like today, as an example, I’m off work and it’s 3:37 p.m. I had a small bowl of cereal for breakfast but since then all I have had is six slices of cheese.

DirecTV
Okay, this one is more about me than about me helping them.

I have absolutely loved having DirecTV. It really doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Charter Communications–which were were forced to use because Time Warner isn’t available where we currently reside–completely sucks dead donkey dick, which it does. It’s the worst communications company in the world. Period. I fucking hated their cable product, and I only live with the Internet product simply because I wasn’t sure about DirecTV before we got it.

But now, I probably would do anything DirecTV told me to, I love it so much. They could put a screen up on channel 212 saying that I should thank DirecTV for giving me such a good viewing life–for sports especially, but really so many more channels than I ever need and we don’t even have a really good subscription package–by jumping off a four-story building with a cape that has DirecTV printed on it, and I probably would. This product is the shit. And that’d probably be my campaign slogan I’d use if they sponsored my life. Beat that.

T-shirts
Sugar-mama is probably not happy to see this one on here. Not that she really cares, but she certainly likes to make fun of my fondness for T-shirts. I have a few. And counting.

No matter where we go clothes shopping, I always look for more. I just love them and can’t have enough of them and I never, ever get rid of them. Just the other week I wore a Cracker concert T-shirt from 1994 (FYI: they opened for the Spin Doctors, who were absolutely the worst band I’ve ever seen live. They sucked, but Cracker was pretty awesome), and about once a month I’ll pull out my Pearl Jam shirt from Lollapalooza II.

I particularly enjoy the ones that are not that PC. I’m sure that’s hard for you believe. With that in mind, this would be a fun place to be the spokesperson for: T-shirthell.com.

What would be the first shirt you buy from here? Mine would be this. Or maybe this for poker weekend. Or this one just because.

Bacon
This would be the easiest sponsorship deal the, um, bacon producers of the world have to ever put together. [I said ‘um’ in that instance because while I would eat bacon on any single meal item, I really don’t want to think about where it comes from or how it gets to my plate. I just want to taste it, revel in it, glorify it, be one with it.]

Send me a case of bacon each month, and I’ll proclaim your truth throughout the lands, high and low, night and day, telling all that bacon is truly the greatest gift to man (well, at least second behind beer; OK, third behind beer and tits). The best way for me to get this message across is by using this Baconfreak.com website, which by the way, should also offer me a sponsorship deal because I’d love to whore myself out for any site that sells Maple Bacon Lollipops. OOhhhhh, my.

So those are just a few things that I’d have an easy time talking about if I was the spokesperson. You know, because I have such a hard time opening up and giving my opinion on so many other things.