Do You Still Kill Gerbils?

I've Always Been Sort Of A Closet Sci-fi Geek.

I Figured Being A Bed Salesman Was A Job Of Biblically Bad Paradox. I Mean, Here He Was, Forced To Stand For Eight Or Nine Hours A Day, And The Whole Time He’s Surrounded By Beds. And Not Only That, He’s Surrounded By Shoppers Who See The Beds And Can’t Help But Think, Man, I’d Love To Lie Down On That Bed For A Second. So Not Only Does He Have To Stop Himself From Lying Down, But He Has To Stop Everyone Else From Doing It, Too. I Knew If I Were Him, I Would Be Desperate For Human Company.

Books. I'd Probably Spend All My Time Alone And Lost In Books If I Could. It's Easier That Way.

Perhaps It's Not That I'm Frigid-- It's That Once I Decide I Like A Guy, I Turn Into A Raging Idiot, Unfit For Public Appearances.

Be Careful What You’re Doing, Because No One Is Ever Who You Want Them To Be. And The Less You Really Know Them, The More Likely You Are To Confuse Them With The Girl Or Boy In Your Head