Read the Stories of My Sorry Life and you’ll get the idea. I read magazines back to front. I have a hammer toe. I abhor artificially cherry-flavored anything. I adore hot Mango pickles. I read textbooks for fun. If I could choose to have the Power to Fly or the Power to be Invisible, I’d choose to fly. When I have trouble falling asleep, I lie perfectly still on my back and imagine that I’m being dissected, picturing each anatomical detail as it is revealed. My parents claim it isn’t so (probably because of liability issues), but I’m pretty sure I was dropped on my head as an infant. And I was adopted. From a family with a history of mental illness. I can bake an exceptionally tasty pie with a really flaky crust. From scratch. I am a regular platelet donor. I once ate an entire jar of pickles at one sitting. I often dream of hybrid animals; half camel/half lion, or a horse with a chicken’s head. If I could only ever hear one piece of music again, it would be Mozart’s Requiem. I once shaved one armpit but not the other to discover which is smellier. Its the shaved one. This is the most sentences I’ve ever written in a row that begin with “I”. I only remember two people from high school. I can not, off the top of my head, name any of my grammar school teachers. I can name four people from college. I can swear quite well in Turkish. That’s all about me for now.