For my next trick, I will make you understand me.

I like this new HBO series “Girls.” It’s about young people with body issues and big hearts striking off to make it in the big city, so I relate to the characters on every level. That’s right - I’m a total lady. I know this because I looked in the mirror this morning and wondered aloud about if my pores are too big. I pay attention to advertising!

The show is the brainchild of Lena Dunham. She’s 24 years old and has created a show for HBO. I’m 25 and all I have to show for it is a semi-decent Klout score. I know Lena Dunham’s name because it’s hammered into you during the end credits. The first three names are hers – directed by, written by, created by. Come on!

(No hard feelings, Lena. When you read this after finding it via the Google Alert you no doubt have set up for your name, just know that I’m genuinely envious of your success. That’s all.)

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It's true. I was a weird kid.

Words to live by. (Die by?)

Seize the moment.

My girlfriend said this once. Guys: appreciate the random discomforts your ladies go through to be aesthetically pleasing!

We are never as together as we appear.

I don't. Do you?

No one in my family’s ever been divorced. That’s a lot of pressure. I can’t confirm, but I suspect that my grandmother died as a loophole to getting out of her marriage.

Even at an early age, I understood that a bond should be permanent. Which is why I superglued all my Legos together. So what if I accidentally put them together the wrong way? They’d work it out! Even the relationships between my toys had integrity.

Totally unrelated, both the ladyfriend and my mom have been encouraging me to eat healthier. I’m something of an equal opportunity employer when it comes to mealtime. Peanut M&Ms? Sure. Frozen pizza? Lay it on me. One pork bun and a handful of Tic Tacs? You’re hired. Junk food fills an empty stomach and the hole in your soul!

But no more, they say. You should shop at Trader Joe’s, they say.  So today I went. It bears mentioning that I have huge soft spots for peanut butter cups and kettle corn, which are both terrible for you. You know what they sell at Trader Joe’s? Multiple varieties of peanut butter cups and kettle corn! So life is meaningless, right?

In my quest to be taken seriously as infrequently as possible, I’ve taken up banjo, accordion, card magic, and standup comedy. Last week saw me actively engaged in one of these on a stage for a crowd of semi-interested people.

When you produce an accordion in front of a room full of people, you immediately peg yourself as the opposite of the guy who plays guitar at a house party. Whether you consider it a poor man’s organ or a rich man’s harmonica, an accordion is a sign around your neck that says “I make interesting decisions and I pose no sexual threat.”

My friend Dylan (same name! I know!) has a musical project operating under the name Swampboots. He tagged me in for my vicious accordion skills for a night of quirky folk rock at a music venue called 116 Macdougal, conveniently located at 116 Macdougal Street,. We tore it up alongside Lindsay, a talented singer, and Brian, a first-class violinist. We shook the rafters.

Check out Swampboots here >