• Be a crazy cat lady. I’m allergic to the point where my eyes water and my throat closes up. I guess I could still potentially be a dead crazy cat lady whose cats have eaten her face. I do still want a pet tiger, so I need to do some extensive googling to determine whether that’s still a possibility. I hope it is. I love tigers.
• Be a Rockette. I don’t fit the height requirement. Because that’s the only obstacle. It’s also why I’ve never won America’s Next Top Model.
• Be good at being mad. As I have mentioned before, I can never keep the angry momentum going long enough to sustain those feelings. I’m terrible at giving people the silent treatment simply because I like to talk.
• Understand the appeal of Claire Danes. Sorry.
• Be a princess at Disneyland. I would really like to, but, in all honesty, which one could I be? Unless a Disney movie about a mestiza princess comes out in the near future, I’m screwed.
• Eat pesto. Unless it was made without pine nuts. But then it wouldn’t really be pesto.
• Keep a manicure for more than four days. It’s usually either an index finger or a thumb that chips first. And, being who I am, I can’t have one imperfect nail. Even though I know it’s horrible for my nails, I proceed to peel off the remaining polish for the sake of consistency. Also, I bore really easily, so once I grow tired of one color, I switch to another. Right now, my nails are bright blue with a black shatter topcoat. Pretty awesome, I know.
• Comment on an online forum. Seeing the volatile ways in which people respond to other commenters scares me into keeping my thoughts to myself. A lot of people use their relative anonymity online as a cloak behind which they can act like assholes. It doesn’t work that way.
• Be able to look at a rusty spoon and not think of Salad Fingers.
• Eat cotton candy without crazy eyes. Or sugar shakes.
• Talk about Fight Club. Oops.
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