Take a Moment to Get to Know Me

My ex-boyfriend, Jimmy, called me “Toots” and commented weekly that I was like a special needs kid that only he could understand.

A pilot I casually dated told me having a conversation with me was like talking to Vincent Van Gogh the day he cut his ear off. When I asked him what that meant, he said he was just trying to imagine a case of an extremely jumbled mind.

In college, my friend Chris said I was like a spider that “spun a pretty web and then sucked the life out of you.”

These things really hurt my feelings.

Today I saw a fat kid at the grocery store standing in the middle of the candy aisle holding a pile of cheese. I’m not sure why, but that’s when I decided that people just don't understand me—may be taking me out of context. If they weren’t so square, they would get to know me better and appreciate me a little more.

Here are some things that may help you get to know and understand me better:

Sometimes I imagine I’m married to Luke Wilson, but we’re having problems.

I spend at least two minutes each day thinking about birthday cake.

I had the strongest intentions of losing my virginity on prom night, but chickened out.

Every time I drive past a closed Wal-Mart I hope they’ll turn it into a skating rink.

My sister and I drive matching cars and live next door to each other.

At the age of ten I opened my own detective agency and went door to door offering to solve mysteries or do light yard work.

I’m obsessive about lists.

Whenever I walk past a fire alarm I worry one of my hands will take on a mind of its own and pull it.

I snicker every time I pick up a cucumber.

I have a deep mistrust of anyone whose name starts with “Br” but I’ve never met a Corey I didn’t like.

I say my favorite color is green but I want everything to be purple.

My grandmother gave me a mink coat, but I’m afraid someone will throw blood on me so I only wear it when I walk the dog in the morning.

I hate taking showers.

In the fourth grade the majority of my class gave a speech about their pets or superheros, I chose to speak about the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima.

I’m afraid of swimming and can recite the preamble to the constitution by heart.

When I read aloud to myself I use a British accent.

A bird pooped on my leg at the beach once and now I pretend every bird I see is that same one, nefariously following me around from day to day.

I started playing tennis to meet people, but will only play with my coach.

Daschunds make me mad.

I spend a lot of time devising ways to be more popular with teenagers.

Sometimes I don’t wash my hands after peeing.

Every six months I apply for a job with the CIA.

I’m more attracted to Darth Vader than Han Solo.

When I was nine I drug around a cowboy hat on a string and pretended it was a dog named Scooter.

I’m madly in love with Anderson Cooper, even though he’s gay, and I frequently make up songs about him.

I like any commercial that has a talking animal.

I do at least three crossword puzzles every day, but only the ones on the right side pages of the book.

I tap my teeth when I’m nervous. I’m nervous a lot.

I use aliases at dry cleaners.

Instead of voting, I imagine ways to keep one person from voting for the candidate I don’t like.

I like to imagine every song I hear is about me.

I wish my name was Dior Duvall.