Husband calls me The Questionnaire because, apparently, I ask a lot of questions. He started calling me this when we began this house remodel and he couldn’t get through a project without me questioning his choice to do this or move that or use that material instead of this one… He fired me from Lovely Assistant duty and now only asks for my help with the caveat that I can’t speak and calls me The Questionnaire when I do. When we meet new people, he warns them that I’m The Questionnaire and tells them to tell me to stop me when I get too personal. I always tell folks that I’ll ask but they don’t have to answer. I figure, if I don’t ask, I’ll never know and the stuff I make up in my head about people might be wrong so why not ask. And I know really fascinating people with really messed up bizarre stories that I never would have known if I hadn’t asked, so there! Saturday we went to visit a few friends who just bought a home in another part of town. After admiring their home and giving them way too much advice and, Husband would say, asking way too many questions about what they were going to do in this room or that, we went out to dinner. In their new neighborhood is this pizza place that just opened where you get to make your own pizza. The guy behind the counter will ‘build’ your pizza from the various cheeses and meats and condiments and then cook it for you. It’s a neat concept. No need to pick off the awful slimy olives if you don’t put them on in the first place. I was first in line, which was probably not a good thing. I had questions about the process. I had questions about the condiments. I had questions about the tools. Husband straight up introduced me to Dude Behind the Counter as The Questionnaire. Sigh. Thankfully Dude Behind the Counter thought it was funny and didn’t do weird things to my pizza while I was watching. Then Dude Behind the Counter asked Husband where he was from and made a joke about Scotland. We all laughed and made small talk while he made our pizzas and answered my questions. The end of the story. Husband would say that in the movie version of this of fascinating this story, Brad Pitt would play him. For a guy whose nickname is Shrek, he's got delusions of grandeur. Anyway, Sunday we went back - Husband loves a good pizza – and we walked in the door and Dude Behind the Counter called out “It's The Questionnaire and The Scotsman!” Apparently, I am now considered a superhero with questionable (snort) talents. And thanks to our Sunday night visit to Target for light bulbs, I now have a costume. Now do I go with a cape or without a cape? Should I use grey as my color or try something a bit brighter. What kind of mask looks good with glasses? Should I have a website so folks can find me or do you think a giant question mark projected into the night sky will do the trick? Or has that been done? Should I....? Would you...? What do you think of....?
I'm really good at this. I could go all day...
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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