The New Yorker that is me.

I started life as I knew it in New York.
Well, I mean, my first memories and probably greatest memories reside in Queens, NY, thus life as I knew it was all in true-blue American tongue.

I still dream of going there one day, maybe having my own apartment, a job as a comic artist/writer/comic shop salesperson, my own dog, and the grasp of American lifestyle everyday.

I am aware for certain that I will come back and breathe in the all-American air.

And when I do:

1. I shall visit the Soup International Kitchen and meet the real life Soup Nazi.
('Tis been a dream since I saw it on Seinfeld.)

2. I shall attend a Yankees game, or at least Super Bowl Sunday and get free Nathan dogs. Maybe even catch a foul ball.

3. I shall visit Battery Park, Ground Zero, Central Park, and Monk's Cafe (if it still exists).

4. If such a residence exists, also visit 129 West 81st Street Apartment 5A.
(Yes, Jerry Seinfeld's supposed residence in the show.)

and last but not least

5. I shall dine upon 18-inch diameter pizzas for the rest of my life.

New Yorkers, why are they so enviable.

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