I am a figure of intelligence. I have memorized the digits of pi, while inventing Braille and Morse code. I cease to score less than 100.278 percent on each test, quiz, and exam I write. I have mastered every iPod app involving numbers, puzzles, and accuracy. My GPA is 5.0 and I compose speeches for famous orators on a regular basis. While vacationing in the Easter Islands, I discovered a new species, the "Wallamboquailrat", a combination of a wallabee, bison, quail, and rat. I can have an entire conversation without using the words "I, the, and, a, it and yes". I invented the spoon.
I am a figure of skill. I am the original MacGyver. I have slayed the most malicious predators using only a Hermès handbag and a pinecone. I have snagged every Hugo Boss model's phone number, along with their hearts (figuratively, of course). I can walk in 8-inch stillettos while carrying seven caramel macchiatos, chatting aimlessly on my celllphone, and juggling a few tennis balls for sport. I design all collections for Chanel.
I am the best decision you'll ever make.
"Brian," Lydia stammered, "There's... Something I need to tell you." Brian looked up from the Tuesday paper, crinkling it. He removed his reading specs from his face and placed them on his lap.
"What is it, Lydia?" asked Brian. He looked lazily into her hazel-hued eyes, as if it were a chore.
"You remember how I said I wanted to get away, to take that trip? You remember?" Lydia asked bashfully.
Brian scratched his head, noddding, "Yeah. Yeah, I remember. What about it?"
"Well," Lydia announced, reaching under her pillow, "I happen to have two open-dated tickets to Rome!" Lydia was now electric, dancing around the room, her nightgown floating slightly above her aged dancer's feet. She noticed Brian, who ceased to mirror her excitement. She pondered worriedly, "Well, aren't you excited?"
"Lydia," he whispered, "Sit down."
"What is it, Brian?" she asked, all the prior glow of joy now drained from her face. She took her place next to him on the bed.
"My turn to share," he chuckled nervously, his voice like poison.
"Okay,"
Brian rubbed his eyes, he faltered, "Lydia, I'm having an affair."
