Psycho Riddle
The other day, our friend gave us a riddle. The answer determines whether you think like a psychopath. (Of course, there’s no medical basis for that…) I had never heard the riddle, though I think it’s very old, and neither T and I got the “correct” answer. (Thank goodness!) Maybe some of you have heard it, but in case you haven’t, I’m extremely curious to hear your answer.
Here it is:
A woman went to her mother’s funeral and met a man that she fell instantly in love with. The man left before she could get his name or any contact information. Three days later, she killed her sister.
Why?
Holiday Pictures
Here’s a scattering of pictures so far.
In Vegas for Thanksgiving with T’s family.
T’s office Xmas party.
At my uncle’s, my cousin’s one-year-old twin babies and a rousing bout of Wii.
In Vegas (again) for Christmas with my family. (I’m not going to go into how I stupidly booked a trip for them without securing transportation first…)
Muscles I Never Had
After a day of Wii sports one week ago, I decided that it would be fun to pick up golf again. Not that I had ever played it. I went to a driving range once… three, oh, maybe four, years ago with T who had just been hitting balls casually with his best friend. But Wii renewed my interest.
And I said, “We should play golf again! It’s fun!” while thinking, “Yeah, after we get married, have a house, settle down, have space to put golf clubs…”
T heard me say, “We should play golf again! It’s fun!” and thought, “Alright! We don’t have an XBox 360 yet so we can’t play co-op Halo, but if we both get new sets of clubs, then we can go to the driving range, practice, get decent, and eventually get on the greens with B (the best friend).”
And so, yesterday at Chick’s Sporting Goods, with our dear friend B to guide us, T got his second set of clubs (his first was a hand-me-down) and I got my first. Let me tell you, it’s no easy task to get women clubs AND lefty clubs. We went down to a driving range and I hit about 90 balls, whiffing only a handful, clunking another handful, and spent much time doing practice swings and turns and contortions.
I’m not going to lie. Today, I hurt. It’s not quite my tri- or biceps, not quite my forearm, but something in that area is in pain. My hand can’t quite close into a fist without a slight wincing on my part. And I’m pretty sure I have a new waist muscle. I’m proud of myself for not getting blisters though.
I wonder how far this hobby will take us. I do enjoy it immensely. And I have an inferiority complex where I want to get awesome just because this is primarily a boy’s sport and I’m a girl. (I had a similar experience with video games, but realized quite quickly that I didn’t have the discipline to practice new combos and such… it’s much more fun to just grab the opponent and fling them…) It’s also great having something more to do with B than just sitting around, talking, drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes (which, don’t get me wrong, is also great fun!)
Oh! I just felt my shoulder tweak!
And on a completely different note, I bought myself a pretty Fendi credit card holder because I needed a credit card holder and spending a hundred something seemed better than spending six hundred something on the bag that I thought I liked but realized couldn’t even fit my laptop which made it pointless. I splurged because I’ve been saying for years that I would buy myself a real Fendi or LV, but then I would chicken out. So I walked into the store, looked at wallets for barely a minute, and said, “I’ll take it.” The salesperson was visibly shocked and speechless for an entire second. I suspect he was new and thought he’d have to sell me on it a bit. He recovered soon enough and went about securing my product for me. And so my little credit card holder was delivered to me in a small black cloth pouch tucked into a mustard yellow box in a matching mustard yellow bag. I have to admit, the yellow is u-g-l-y. But it’s what’s inside that counts.
