Things you probably don’t know about me. Part 2 of 16.

I have a problem remembering names. Faces isn’t a problem although the context might be slipping, which doesn’t help at all because it’s so much harder to try and remember who this might be.

Anyways. This not knowing means I make up nicknames for people in my head so that I can pin-point them easier. Some of these gets used properly, others… It might be that after a short while I discover that the nickname just doesn’t fit — hopefully before I’ve said it out loud. It is then removed as an index for that person, as an unfitting nickname is rather useless.

But the thing is this: I don’t throw away and forget them. I store them in my head, without much problem for some reason, and they lie there dormant and awaits getting attached. They’re orphans, and they need a home. Maybe not now, but some day. Considering point 14 in this, they’ll probably starve to death.

What the hell. I can do this too. It’s content right? And text? And a handful of peeps on my dashboard has already done it so…

Things you probably don’t know about me. Part 1 of 16.

When I was a kid, really small one and quite young, I had LEGOs. Lots and lots and lots of LEGOs — I think I have forgiven my parents for giving it all away. One of the things I loved doing even before my brother was born was to make swords and fight. The loser was the one who’s sword shattered first.

Later me and my brother did the same thing. Only we where a bit more savage than me as a three year-old and my father. We tried to make the best design, reinforce parts of the swords that broke the last time and make the other one drop the sword. Because by then, you could continue fighting even if parts of it was on the floor. Hell, if you could withstand the pain of someone hitting your hand with a lump of hard plastic, you could win if the other one chickened out.

I still to this day want to make swords in LEGO, big ass swords, and a large-scale Godzilla stomping a plastic Tokyo. But I got none left.