Truth is...

Okay. I have two crooked pinkies. This is no trick. My pinkies are crooked. They're fat in the middle. Its really gross. And weird. If you ask to see it, I'll sock you. No, actually, I won't sock you. I'll just give you a dirty look. Ever since I was a little girl, I would look at my pinkie and compare them to other kids'. Mine was different. Weird. And my mom never noticed. No one notices until I tell them. But its just icky. Why would anyone want to see it? Apparently, to my mom, it is funny. Everytime I tell her to look at my pinkie she starts to laugh. So today, a few minutes ago, I was just sitting here chatting and my mom called me downstairs. I was expecting it to be something about the concert. That she was going to ask me some stupid questions. So i went down and she just wanted to see my pinkie! She was wondering where I got it from, so when I got downstairs she and my dad were comparing pinkies! And then they took a look at mine. Different. She started laughing as hell and when I was running away she asked, "What happened to you?"

Haha, I don't know mom. I guess I was just caught in another one of those radioactive wastes again. Here is one of my super traits. Crooked pinkies. Not only that, but its one pinkie per hand! Gee whiz! Take a look at that! Okay, so maybe not all of the punk rock is making me sick. But I am listening to Barry White- "You Sexy Thing" right now. Hey sexy. Yeah, you. ::Wink Wink::