Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
Mostly filling out empty essays on OkCupid for no good reason.
Aside from the aforementioned task vital for my survival, I am
currently chugging my way through college, sitting in classrooms
pretending that I'm taking notes and paying attention while I think
about what would happen if I released a hundred gerbils in the food
I guess I'm an outdoorsy person? I enjoy hiking through the woods,
cuddling cute bear cubs, being mauled by mama bear, and running out
of the woods with blood gushing out from my wounds. I enjoy
whitewater rafting (the people at Splash Mountain know me by name,
phone number, credit card number, billing address, and social
security number), fishing (though I have been banned from all of
the SeaWorld parks for bringing in harpoon guns), and canoeing (I
keep hearing banjos, though, and it scares the crap outta
On a more serious note, I do enjoy hiking and camping, and most
outdoor sports (by which I mean think kayaks, backpacks, etc. Not
hunting. Or fishing. Killing fellow animals is not sport ), and I
mountain bike a bit. Mostly XC. The first time I tried downhill was
hilarious. There was a sign advising you to drop your seat, which I
did. On the first drop I slid off the back of my bike (lucky for me
I was clipped in, else it would've been right between the legs)
because I was used to bracing myself against the seat... well, the
seat wasn't there anymore. I promptly left that trail and went back
to a regular trail.
I enjoy the simple things in life, such as the soothing sound of
ten thousand vuvuzelas trumpeting in unison, the deep crimson
colour of potassium permanganate solution when someone accidentally
put her arm in there, and the endless green foliage of a pristine
forest marred only by sound of chainsaws and trees falling when
there are people around to hear them.
My dream girl would take long walks with me on the beach at sunset,
when the golden rays of the setting sun cast that mesmerizing sheen
on the sand. We'd feed the seagulls chips laced with Ex-Lax, and
watch the ensuing (literal) shitstorm. She'd stand back and take in
the big picture, ignoring the small details like the third arm
growing out of my chest. She'd love me for who I am regardless of
what I turn into at full moon (a giant overweight chicken, that is.
Werewolves are too mainstream).