I'm psychic

Government security check fingerprinting turned out to be the most exciting part of my day. They have this huge machine that looks like it came out of CSI with a red light and plates of glass for you to stick your fingers on. They squish them all over the glass and then the prints show up magnified to epic proportions on a huge monitor, while you wait to see if the computer is satisfied with the results.

The lady mentioned that the machine would have problems with me because I have the smallest fingers she'd ever seen on an adult, but it didn't seem to matter much. Besides, there are advantages to having small hands.

We discovered that all of my fingers and thumbs are loops, except for my right index finger, which is an arch and my right thumb, which is a whorl. But that was no surprise. Nonconformist bastards.

We finished the whole ordeal by agreeing that my eyes are grey and then arguing abut my weight. In the end, she took fifteen pounds off the weight that I gave her and put that into the computer. So be warned: there's a girl out there exactly like me who weighs 15 lbs more and likes to rob banks. She's not me. Clear? Then we must proceed.

Except I can't remember what else I was going to say.

Maybe something like how I have this coworker who came from Ottawa and she's constantly complaining about how she likes it better back there (which is stupid because Ontario has very few redeeming qualities) so in my head I thought, "well if you like it so much then why don't you marry it, eh?" and then she announced that next weekend she's going there and she's going to stay at the Marriott, further proving that I'm psychic.