fate, you laugh

I got a phone call last week from Penn State's psychology department, telling me that I was one of eighty well-rounded individuals they had chosen to participate in a study. They thought I was well-rounded. It didn't matter that they'd never met me. Or that they knew absolutely nothing about me. I have no problem accepting any and all compliments, no matter how unfounded. And I've always wanted someone to tell me I'm well-rounded.

So anyway, all I had to do was give them my opinion on exceprts from a book they're publishing, and take a little test that apparently provided them amazing insights and understanding of how my mind works. I didn't tell them that I've been asking myself questions for the past 24 years, and still don't really understand my own mind. Because they were going to pay me. Three hundred dollars. I'll offer my services to science, if science agrees to help pay for my next vacation.

But fate had other plans. There was no psychology study, no three hundred dollars. Just a brief telephone conversation with a rather disturbed man trying to convince me to show him my "dark side." And apparently everyone's "dark side" is dirty.

Sweetheart, I don't feel like you're letting yourself into your dark side.

Well, maybe I don't have a dark side.

You do. I'll find it. Tell me you love me, sweetheart.

What?!?

Right now I want to take you and..... (I'll let you use your imagination on this one.)

Yeah. Right.