I want to be an astronaut. That is my one lofty ass goal I've held onto. Always figured it's good to keep something just sitting there on the horizon, waiting, judging, like "the fuck you doing, you have astronauting to do". Or something.
If there was a zombie apocalypse, I would probably be the guy who tries to kill you for your ammo, but then we fight to a stalemate and eventually start making out and shooting zombies over each others shoulders. Think that scene in Mr and Mrs. Smith, except with less yellow glasses. Seriously, what were the directors thinking? Wait, where were we? Oh yes. No, I'd be the guy to look outside, see zombies and be all "welp"
Despite what my personality results may say, I totally value my artsy side. Those results can suck my 2nd place in the Grand Beach Sand Sculpting contest! Got in a newspaper and everything! Sure, it was a variety piece in a sunday press and I ted for 2nd in a 3 person competition, but I got a wicked sunburn doing it! It hurt!
I'm from the countryside, so nothing makes me happier than sitting around a nice fire under the stars. That's my ideal evening, preferably snuggled up in some sort of makeshift couch (or actual couch, if possible) making smores and such. The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves in the night. A moonlit beach at a lake with gently lapping waves. The crunch of gravel on a deserted road, the ripple of long grass in a long-abandoned field.
Oh, as a specific point, if you lose my number and I text you and you're all "oh gosh dearie me I've lost my contacts who is this again"? You're not getting off easy. I ask riddles. They rhyme. You better brush up on this stuff, cause you're going to be assaulted by the fucking quizmaster.