I know a song is good if I close my eyes and require the emotion hand to sing it. And potentially a rocky relationship with my husband and a biopic, but that seems like a lot of effort for karaoke.

I once made 200 children pretend to be popcorn in a roped off circle. It looked like someone had taken a punk concert and reduced it in a photocopier.

The smell of oranges makes me feel that something good is on the horizon. (Even if it’s just eating the orange. Which makes it sound like I have really low expectations. Or scurvy.)

When I was little, I used to swing on the swings as high as I could and sing the tagline to a 7-Up jingle just as I reached the airspace parallel to the top bar. I don’t remember the jingle at all. I just remember that it was 7-Up, and that I would close my eyes and pretend I was a bubble rising. No, I wasn’t left alone a lot, why do you ask?

You can tell that I’ve actually injured myself if I forget to swear. Or if I’m bleeding heavily, or if a part of my body is missing. But I digress.

Isn’t science fiction an oxymoron? I know, I know, it’s not really. But I love it when I say things like that and someone is like, “NO, IT’S FICTION BASED ON SCIENTIFIC CONCEPTS OR FANTASTICAL EXTENSIONS OF SCIENTIFIC IDEAS” and then I’m all like, “Nerd.”

Hand cream always makes me feel vaguely unsettled, like an emergency is going to arise where I need to hang on to the skids of the helicopter but I’m too emollient and WHEEEE! off I go to my death.

I love fruit that doesn’t get your hands all messy, like mandarin oranges. Sticky hands could result in disaster. Though handy for hanging off of helicopters.

I think Slinkys (Slinkies? I hate “y” ending words that you can’t turn into “ies” words because they are trademarked or just stubborn) are the perfect toy for someone like me. Coiled too tight? Tumbles down stairs? Tangles upon stretching? Yes.

What goes around does come around, but sometimes it hits me in the face on the way by and bounces backwards and comes around AGAIN. That sucks.