Humans aren’t very random, but J is definitely the best I have.
“Give me a number between one and a hundred,” I lean into his room, hanging on his door frame.
“Do we have to?” He asks as Stinky looks up and babbles in Cat to my question.
I sigh, “Another number?”
“That’s my favorite!”
“Twenty-three – picky, picky.”
#23 – Define your inscrutables.
“Is nothing sacred? Well, not really. You’re the type who puts it all out there – relationship details, depression-med doses, dark family secrets. With all that online infromation waiting to be discovered by your stunned parents, you might be surprised at how much readers still don’t know about me.”
*taps head* I need a dark secret. Or something. Help me Webster!
in·scru·ta·ble: not readily investigated, interpreted, or understood
Lessee…Maybe I can get five “not readily investigated” bits of my persona.
1. I will totally steal the crust off of pizza and leave the rest when no one is looking if there are tasty sauces to dip it in.
2. I hate how I look in glasses, yet I get more compliments when wearing them. I have determined a librarian fetish.
3. I collect boxes. Most of these boxes sit empty; interpret that as you wish.
4. I don’t quite understand what it means to be a woman. I think I’m slowly, slowly getting there. At least I’m not poking myself in the eye with kohl as much as I used to and that’s something.
5. I’m more sad when animals die in movies than when humans do. This leaves me stranded in thought because J and I just finished Aliens Resurrection and – *SPOILER* what is Ripley’s semi-baby? It had doggie eyes, yet liked to pop human skulls. I’m conflicted.