Jesus, that's a tall order.
And what's worse than just bragging via typing is showing it all off. How do you live up to that? Well, you don't, you just copy it, so I stake my claim to unoriginality right here, start chugging the peach schnapps and reveal all. Here goes.
There's a lot about me I wish would change, externally and in-, but let's give this exercise a go.
My snout is a great one, inherited from my father, good for getting things all the way down at the bottom of the trough. Lose your keys while you're rototilling? I'm there! And this might be kind of a cheat, because I've had a little surgery on it, but it's mine, on my body, and I'm proud.
My flipper. It's a little smaller than most, which naturally got me some razzing in school, but lookit them little scrapers on the end there: Brent didn't laugh long once he was scooping his flesh up off the floor. And now I use 'em for peaceful purposes! What a world.
My foot. Just this one though, since the others have webbing that's getting all crinkly. Anyway, this one looks awesome in those plastic-bubble sandal thingies, but they don't sell those in threes which kind of pisses me off. And hey, this little darling is also good for back-scratching: ladies, I'm available!
My tentacle. Just look at it, like some kind of gorgeous slimy fractal. Sure, you can unmask a diver any old time, but show me a spaghetti-sauce jar that can defeat me. And you know that joke where you reach around behind someone and tap them on the opposite shoulder and they go "wuh, whozzat?" I just leave the tentacle there and it's twice as funny. And yes, I pay for the dry-cleaning, so quit wagging your fingers at me.
My, uh, hindquarters. I'm embarrassed to admit that I think it's so fantastic that I shake it for all it's worth whenever I get the chance, which is actually frequently now that I've managed that belly-dancing job at the Greek place on Broadway. So far only one bratty kid with the salt-shaker, but one spray of ink and that was that.
I am going to have to post this before I pass out and maybe I'll forget I did it by morning, which might be a good thing.