Update: I'm now legally married. Might as well save you the
trouble. Yes, this means you, Mr. Looking for Teh Sex on the
Internets. If you are (astonishingly) trolling for intellectual
conversation, then by all means message me.
My new personality test result makes me laugh. A lot.
I have eaten with chopsticks since the age of eight; I am completely incompetent with a fork.
My hair is so long I can sit on it. This comes from my laziness about cutting it and my hobby of spinning exotic wood hairpins on my minature lathe. I have insurance on my power tools, of which there are many, and none on my jewellery, of which there is none. Lee Valley rocks my socks, and my wallet. And my free time. My lathe is gathering rust because I have no space fit to enjoy my hobby, which makes me bitchy. And you thought sexual frustration makes a woman cranky. Take away her power tools? Issues.
My genetic makeup is Scottish. This a less wordy and awkward way of explaining that my hair wants to kick your ass, and the only time it and I get along is when I'm drunk. On the increasingly rare occasions that I am, I have been known occasionally to throw boors a whupping. If you just slapped my ass, this includes you. On said occasions, my hair rears up to threaten mayhem and lashes through the air like Medusa's snaky companions; I take no responsibility for any damage to nearby persons.
I began to read Shakespeare at nine. I was raised without television. I value learning more than skill. Knowledgeableness is hot. Regale me with your tales of membrane formation in frog spawn! (Or whatever it is that you know. Bonus points for big words out of which I can pick the Greek roots. Rawr!)
I am feisty, brazen, and serene