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
At the moment, I am probably expiring from boredom by degrees as I wait for federal permission to have a life.
Sometimes they notice they've just earned exasperated scorn; if you want to make a Canadian instantly hate your ignorant, offensive ass, please go ahead and make that irresistible joke about 'aboot' so we can identify you as someone incapable of hearing the diphthong and a jackass to boot.
The movies I like are totally irrevelant. Often something violent, but visually inclined, with no pretensions to 'plot'. Plot in two hours or less? Please. If I wasn't leery of appearing pretentious, I'd admit to Lars and the Real Girl, Angel-a, Secretary, Dancer in the Dark, The Tango Lesson, and maybe Hero if I thought someone had an appreciation of design used as a silent narrative. And that, dear reader, is why I don't talk about my movie preferences, because it just comes out all wrong.
This too is totally random. Massive Attack. Rufus Wainwright makes me glad I'm not a gay man, because that would get ugly fast. Lisa Gerrard. Peter Gabriel. Anything with a beat primitive enough for dancing.
If it is Asian and it doesn't look like the animal it came from, I'll eat it. Especially sushi. Also, anything my partner cooks, because it's better than I could have made and best of all, I didn't.
Generally, I spend a lot of time thinking about why people interact the way they do, and what makes a person focus on the mundane instead of devoting only the necessary portion of their heads to the fine details of living and filling the rest of the space with ideas.
I also spend a lot of time wondering how to tell one from the other without just asking a potentially rude question.
Sometimes their eyes glaze over in shock regardless, which tickles me fiercely because if I'd said I met my husband after we both woke up from a drunken one-night stand and had to re-introduce ourselves to one another, that would be less shocking.
Lastly, if you're from Lubbock and are fundamentally bewildered by how the hell you ended up on essentially another planet.