This Dating Life: The Anti Match

On OKCupid.com, a free dating site with women who know how to post photos that they didn't take themselves while making kissy faces in the mirror, there is a matching system. Based on your interests, your attributes/skills (cause women like a guy with skills), how you answer questions and where Venus is in the sky, you are considered a percentage match to the other person. This comes in the form of % Match, % Enemy and % Friend. Recently I got an email with the title "Anti-Match." Read for yourself:

"According to OKCupid we are a 0% match. I think that's awesome."

I disagreed:

"I know you like laughter, but I hate it. You're a teacher, but I think education is stupid. You have a huge crush on Harry Potter, however, and I used to as well, so I'd say we're more like an 11.7% match. Not 12%, cause I hate rounding. Which also cost us those three-tenths of a percentage match points."

St. Lucia Vol. 7 - Revenge of the Sun

The last full day we spent in St. Lucia, we got a tremendous hookup from Alison, HD's cousin's ladyfriend. Most of the trip we kept things cheap and therefore missed out on some of the activities I was interested in, like fishing for marlins or taking an all gold yacht to Martinique. Alison works at one of the major resorts on the north end of the island, and she was able to get us a day pass to the hotel, entitling us to use the beach and it's water sports and eat all their delicious food and drink as much LLB as possible.

First up was snorkeling. I wish I lived closer to reefs or was a better swimmer, because it's really tough to go snorkeling for tropical fish in Brooklyn. Getting a glimpse into a magical, colorful and alien world transports you. It's peaceful and exciting. You're an intruder, yet no one makes you feel unwanted (and with the exception of not having gills, you totally fit in). I learned to stay away from sea urchins (they have many sharp pointy spine things), not to swim too close to rocks when the current is bashing waves against them, and that it's really hard to catch fish. I chased a small school, swimming amongst them, and tried to catch them, but only managed to look like an aquatic zombie.

Next up in the aquatic adventure queue was learning to sail a small boat. Seemed easy enough. It was a 2-man job, yet we saw people going solo. One of the guys took us out and we thought we had everything down. As intuitive as it was for HD to do it, it was the opposite for me. All I wanted to do was the dangerous, fast turn (jibe? cut? jive? who knows) which would lead to the boat capsizing if I didn't let the sail out all the way. Well, the boat did almost capsize, after Dynamo fell overboard, but in a heroic moment, I dove across and steadied the other side of the deck and then helped him back on board. Just call me Captain. Our troubles on the medium seas were far from over. There was the sail detaching from the deck, which led to the guys coming out and reattaching it. Then there was general confusion, which we weathered. Finally, the wind completely changed and we were unable to make it back in from the bay, so the guys had to come back out again and give us step by step instructions. And when that didn't work, push us a little bit too.

Jet-skiing didn't work out too well either. Once again, I may have underestimated the skill it takes to stand on skis on water while a boat pulls you and gravity, physics and other sciences try to make you fall over and get eaten by a shark. After falling 3 times before I even got up, having my arm feel like it was about to tear off, and getting hit by the boat, I decided to give up. HD fared much better, eventually getting the rope and following behind the boat. Everything looked good, until all of a sudden his boat stopped while pretty far out, for about 20 minutes. At first, I could see the tips of his jet skis, but eventually I only saw one person, and that was the driver. It turned out that the line had gotten stuck in the engine, causing the boat to stop. Because they need engines to go, apparently. Luckily, Dynamo wasn't eaten by an octopus as I originally feared (not even maimed, surprisingly) and the large British lady who was next to jet ski didn't punch him in the face as she originally threatened.

Finally, there was kayaking. Dynamo was all watered out, so he left to have dinner with his sister. I decided it was time to do some ocean/bay kayaking by myself. It started raining and it the sky was overcast, but I didn't care. I love being in a kayak. After a while of conquering the sea, I noticed a man lying on the sand being tended by a bunch of people. Upon returning to shore, I found out he had been stung by jellyfish and was having a severely allergic reaction. So severe that he was on oxygen and a stretcher. I was very happy to find out about the deadly jellyfish after I was out with them, rather than at a time where it would have done me some good. Alison saw the ambulance and heard I was kayaking by myself and assumed I had drowned or something horrible. I don't see why. Kayak. Master. For real.

I'm not, however, the master of sun block. Apparently sun block is a great idea for white folk in the Caribbean, even when they're pretty sure their legs are covered by the umbrella. Both of my legs were fully lobsterized, from toes to thighs, on both sides. The full effect didn't hit me until later, as good sunburns often don't. The next morning, I couldn't stand straight or really support myself, let alone walk. Luckily, pain killers exist. I was on some prescription strength meds for 4 days before I could move without crying like a man. Some knowledge was acquired from this tragedy, however. Lucians don't really know what sunburn is. Probably one of the many benefits of being dark skinned and all. Sure, if they stood in the sun for about 16 days straight, they might get a little tanner, but that's about it. Therefore, I got asked a lot of questions, like "what is sunburn?" "what does sunburn feel like?" "does that hurt at all?" and my favorite, "why did you get sunburned if it hurts so much?" If only I'd remembered how melanin deficient I am, this might have all been avoided!

St. Lucia Vol. 6.1 - Return of the Photographer

Sunday was the whole reason I came down to St. Lucia. No, not the mango fest, but HD's grandmother's 80th birthday. It was held at the Lucian-owned and operated Bay Gardens Resort (best hotel on the island!!) and I was the photographer. This had many benefits. I didn't have to dance and people were very insistent that I get food or would get it for me. The day started off at an open-air church in...St. Lucia. I truly believe open-air is the way to go, and having gone to so many churches in my life (4) I'm definitely an expert on this. It was very peaceful, at the top of a hill, and the breeze was able to flow through, as were the sounds of nature and the sun. Many things happened that I didn't understand, an altar boy waved the incense holder back and forth and once again, I was denied Communion. The more I'm told no, the more I want it!

The birthday party itself was a tremendous hit and a great time was had by all. I learned there's definitely a sense of humor translation in the Caribbean, and it's more than not just being able to speak patois. How did I learn this? Because not everyone I met immediately agreed I was the funniest person they knew. I'm very scientific.

This was also the first day I really felt like I was back in St. Lucia, surrounded by people I met and adored from the first trip 3 years ago. HD and I had gotten it wrong. It wasn't the things we did in St. Lucia the first time, but the people I met and the love I felt when they took us in. It was the culture and the people and the food, not the resorts and the beaches, that made me love the island.

Now, even though not much had changed in my life, it felt like I'd entered a time warp. Three years was just a drop to me, but it seemed to have aged the entire island. It hurt my soul to hear people who were so generous to me, invited me into their homes, were struggling. Despite fresh tropical fruit falling into your hands as you walk, island life isn't as easy as we tend to romanticize it.

St. Lucia Vol. 6 - Return of the LLB

As mentioned previously, I wasn't as enthusiastic about my return to St. Lucia initially. As the trip got closer, I became more and more detached, not planning anything and adopting a false sense of "been there, done that." All that changed when I remembered about LLB. LLB, for those ignorant and lazy folks who refuse to embrace what is amazing, stands for Lemon, Lime and Bitters, and is basically the nectar of the gods. Imported from Trinidad, it's sold everywhere that's anywhere in St. Lucia. My (failed) goal was to come back the sole distributor to the US of this delicious beverage.

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Last trip, we had Ghost who hooked us up. The role of random (to me, at least) person who made St. Lucia a more fun place fell on Dynamo's "Auntie" Tina this time. Auntie Tina was Super Lucian, and also super Lucian. It felt as if she knew everyone on the entire island, and wouldn't hesitate to chew anyone out in Patois if she felt they were messing with Dynamo or I for being "tourists." Tina haggled over any price, and set HD up with a woman during his stay. She also made a grand entrance to Ma Silla's birthday party celebration, resplendent in a bright pink dress. I wouldn't have expected anything less.

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This year, we traveled in even more style for Fish Fridays in Gros Islet. Dynamo and I got to ride in the back of Tina's friend's pickup truck and mock all the white folk tourists. I love fitting in. We first went to a tiny place in the middle of nowhere, where folk from all over the island would gather and see friends they hadn't seen all week to have fun, drink some beer and eat some delicious fish of the sea. There was lubbie (weird Lucian name for conch), grilled snapper and, if you knew the cook, turtle. I'm honestly not sure of the legality of eating turtle, and I don't know if it was a tortoise or a sea turtle or some other kind, but it was so delicious, it made my morals cry. Afterwards, we headed to the larger party in Gros Islet, which inexplicably, was run by Guiness. Guiness. The Irish dark stout. What island people want with that man?

The atmosphere, as always, was lively. Vendors in stalls covered most of the area: jewelry (handmade and junk for tourists), fish, chicken, stews and fried bake, shandy, Piton beer and most other beverages people would want. No fresh juice or LLB, though. I called bullshit. Auntie Tina got HD and me coconuts. When I told her mine had no juice in it, she got outraged and demanded a new one. Turns out, my straw was just broken. White people! There was a DJ spinning and people dancing, everyone closely clustered together. In the midst of all this beautiful movement, it started raining. That didn't stop it. We just stood in the rain, drinking beer, having fun and dancing. Well, HD was dancing. I was playing the wall, without a wall to lean on. I proved my theory that you don't need to dance to have fun...and then I went home early.

St. Lucia Vol. 5 - Caribbean Fish Strike Back

My second trip to St. Lucia was a very odd one. I usually don't travel anywhere, especially internationally, more than once unless I'm visiting friends or family. Due to this, I tried to do as much as possible on my first trip to the friendly but mountainous Caribbean nation, and honestly couldn't think of too much to do on my return voyage. I figured HD and I would be welcomed by everyone with open arms and people would be begging us for the honor of driving us around. This trip also differed because it was partially for business (I mean, completely, IRS. And stop reading my blog!). I was there to shoot HD's grandmother's 80th birthday party, a grand affair full of ornate hats and cakes that couldn't be eaten.

Aimless, and without anyone to plan trips or get us places for free, we spent much of the time relaxing in our temporary residence. Taking full advantage of the giant flat screen television and cable channels, I learned that Catwoman is a horrible movie. Not even the "but, Halle Berry in leather" argument could save it. Unfortunately, I found out that Death Race is an even worse movie. Sorry for the spoiler alerts and the surprises being revealed here.

The World Cup and the British Open (or Wimbledon, as everyone insists on calling it) were occurring during this time as well, and not watching these sports would be like an affront to the Lucian lifestyle, so we had no choice but to comply. British sports are absolutely loved in St. Lucia, which makes sense, as they were once colonized by Fawlty Towers and Andy Murray. What doesn't make sense, however, are the 4 most popular of these British sports. Soccer has rules I don't quite understand, beyond kick ball in goal. Rugby, which I learned about on the flight from Invictus, doesn't make any sense either, but that's ok, because I don't think it actually has any rules, besides Matt Damon always scores. A cricket field makes no sense, and the matches, which last for approximately 6.5 straight days, involve a huge amount of math, since scores are usually 1,800,935.74 wickets to pi to the 87th place. Lastly, there's quidditch, which barely beats both cricket and rugby for most arbitrary rules and made-up items.

Besides lazing about and watching too much TV (there's a channel almost entirely dedicated to replaying episodes of the A-Team!!!!!), we would go over to a nearby beach and chill in the Caribbean. During my first trip, I had to deal with marauding crabs. On my more recent excursions, however, I was constantly under attack from a new threat: tiny fish! They would brazenly swim up to my legs and feet when I wasn't paying attention and take out huge sections of flesh with their vicious toothed mouths, causing me endless pain. Then the blood would attract sharks, which ate me on my multiple occasions, and then I regenerated my entire body. True story. I would later get my revenge on the fish, but that's a story for another time, or posting.

Another popular activity was going down to the main city, Castries, and wandering around. Here, an enterprising and ruggedly handsome traveler could obtain delicious ginepps (mistakenly called akee by Lucians), tamarind balls, and valuable trinkets, like stone turtles. The theory/fact that nothing in St. Lucia is called by it's right name is on full display here. At the market, one can buy figs (bananas), avocados (which are, for some reason, purple on the outside) and apricots (which are actually ???? but could be this, according to a Google image search). There were also plenty of folks willing to sell crappy coconuts to tourists, while reserving the delicious ones for island folk. That's probably why I became ambivalent to coconuts my first trip. Luckily, time heals all scars and painful memories.

St. Lucia Vol. 4 - I Hope There's No Mosquitoes

My second, non-romantical trip to St. Lucia with Human Dynamo began as all trips to the Caribbean do: being woken up at 3 AM to ride to the airport. It's been a while since I've traveled, but the tedium of airport security has not subsided. I found out you're not allowed to carry overly ornate hats in plastic bags because the bag could be used as a weapon. I also found out that HD should always do the packing for his mom. The usual "hurry up, rush, wait in line" philosophy failed to hamper my excitement; this time, we were transferring to a flight in Atlanta, Georgia. Dreams of running into Big Boi or Andre, anyone from Goodie Mob or Ludacris danced through my head like scantily clad sugar plum fairies in a rap video.

Imagine my disappointment when the Atlanta airport was not quite as expected. There was NO fish and grits, NO pimp shit, and NOBODY said O-yea-yer! There were no marching bands, and I couldn't even pretend there were airplanes in the night sky. Instead, Faith Hill serenaded all the travelers with This Kiss. Maybe 7 AM is too early to expect some real down south music. Our departure gate was right by our arrival, and everything went pretty smoothly. We landed in southern St. Lucia at the Vieux Fort airport (pronounced "Vie-Eee-Ux Four Airpour") where we were met by HD's godmother, who kindly drove us to his grandmother and grandfather's house. There, I was forced to eat delicious fish and watched millions of chickens play chicken in the backyard, as cherries and cashew fruit fell liberally, coating the landscape in cherry and cashew fruit colors. And chicken poop.

This, however, was only a stopover for us. HD and I were getting to stay with his uncle and aunt in Rodney Bay, in the lap of luxury (we assumed). We each got our own room, complete with no air conditioner and no fan. Oh, and the nice area they lived in was flat, so there was no wind. And it was in the Caribbean. The first night was horrible. Sleep was impossible, and not just due to the balmy 150 degrees. Keeping the windows open meant mosquitoes could get in and I got to hear every single cricket sing it's song. St. Lucian crickets aren't normal size either, but more like Godzilla. Dynamo had skeeters in his ears all night, which I thought I escaped, but when I woke up, my legs looked like a twisted Connect the Dots, played by drunks with only red pieces. It also rains a lot, but only for 10-15 minutes at a time. So it would be 2 AM, I'd finally overcome the heat to get back to sleep, and then BAM, rain thunders down on the roof and in buckets. Usually rain helps cool things off, but it was constantly opposite day, so as soon as it was done waking me up, everything was hot again. I was rather grouchy the next day, but 2 days later we both got fans, and that helped a lot. Who would have thought July in St. Lucia would be hot?

St. Lucia Vol. 3 - Back to the Future

In honor of Pkilla's birthday that I managed to miss while stalking crabs on beautiful tropical beaches, I'm going to predict the events of the last day of my trip. This is no easy task, mind you, as I'm figuring out what will happen...in the FUTURE!!

I see...catastrophe. Yes, it's not quite clear what will happen, but I detect broken glass (everywhere) and a sweet smell. There's much buzzing about the place, but for Human Dynamo, there will be nothing sweet.

My bag will be so heavily laden with delicious LLB that it will take 7 porters to carry it 3 feet, and then they'll have to rest. So worth it.

Psychically, I'm deducing I'll spend the short plane ride from St. Lucia to San Juan exactly as I would hope...by reading about Genghis Khan's treasure and lost tomb, and sleeping. Then, I'll have mediocre mexican food at the airport terminal, and on the flight back I'll watch a movie that I will later forget all about.

Despite my best efforts to recreate the Caribbean feel by constantly saying "ye, man," something will feel amiss. Perhaps losing my minority status?

St. Lucia Vol. 2 - Are You For Scuba?

Things in list form (and not just because I'm too lazy to make proper paragraphs that somehow flow well):

- St. Lucians don't really celebrate the 4th of July. So rather than draping ourselves in the American Flag, setting off fireworks and eating hotdogs, we ate sugar cane and watched Monk. O yeah, and draped ourselves in the St. Lucian flag.

- Sugar cane is amazing! Unfortunately, it evolved so that white people can't eat it. I had to get a waiter to cut mine and then hire a guide to teach me how to eat it. You don't want to swallow the fibrous parts, apparently.

- It's impossible not to watch ALF or Different Strokes once you know they're on!!

- There's many different kinds of mangoes. None of them are called by their real name by St. Lucians, who insist on naming things in their native Creole and then speaking that language, too. Very inconsiderate, guys.

- Despite mangoes being so plentiful that it was impossible to walk on a trail without one falling into your hand at the exact moment you were hungry or thirsty, no country in the Caribbean is actually a world leader in growing them. That honor falls to India, by a huge margin too.

- On Friday, it's Fish Fridays down in Anse le Reye and up in Gros Islet. Mistakenly believing Anse le Reye to be where we snorkeled the previous day, we had a less enjoyable experience, swimming through silt, getting dragged towards large rocks by the current and seeing (but not freaking out about at all) what we mistakenly believed to be a sea snake . Of course, when I calmed down and gave it some real thought, I realized, as everyone knows, that although sea snakes ARE poisonous, there are none in the Caribbean despite many sightings, and it was more likely a snake eel, or even a snake that decided to go for a quick dip. I also befriended a local fisherman named Leroy, who noticed our two names were remarkably similar. After this stunning revelation, he told me how he captured some fishes named BLAOW (ok, actually, ballaowoo) and if I was staying longer, he'd cook them up for me. The story unfortunately has a sad ending, as I walked around the cookout asking if anyone had ballaow, and no one did. After, we went up to Gros Islet, which was a lot more happening, rowdier and with better and cheaper food, but shitty music that you could hear on Z100.

- Everyone in St. Lucia loves Rihanna's Umbrella song.

- Back to fruit knowledge. Supermarkets in St. Lucia carry ripeness charts for bananas, detailing 9 different levels of ripeness and giving colors. That's just being thorough.

- Sunblock is invaluable if you're pale.

- Human Dynamo was able to get everyone on the island to either feed us in their home or volunteer to drive us wherever we wanted to go. Such are the benefits of being St. Lucia's favorite son and not having been back there in 20 years. Family as well as friends of the family treated us to amazing home cooked meals and provided fantastic company, taking me in and treating me like HD's actual brother. My plate overflowedeth with mangoes, plantains, lobster and local fish, and my cup with LLB, aka nectar of the gods. I even learned a patois phrase: ve sala ca plae wae (not actually spelled that way) which means the glass is dirty. Technically, it means the glass is crying (probably gets teased a lot for being dirty) and it was the ONLY creole phrase to stick with me.

- Much of the island's tourist attractions are, oddly enough, built for tourists. But not the cool kind. More the pasty, over-privileged European/middle-American caricatures of tourists in movies from the 1970s kind. The tropical rainforest walk wasn't a hike, but a path carved out, covered in stones. The loud crunching that occurs while walking on the path all but guarantees you won't see any cool wildlife except for omnipresent lizards who have no fear.

- Our rainforest tour guide took us in a sky air-car-thingy (probably called a gondola, but trying to keep the romance out of it) to see the canopy and all the cool tropical trees and some birds. I learned that everything in the rainforest* has medicinal purposes and can be used by science to help cure people. If they're suffering from impotence. Because EVERYTHING in St. Lucia is used to help men have sex. There's not a single female sex aid. But passionfruit? Good for the erection. Sea-moss, which can't even be a real thing? Good for the erection. Turtle penis or shell or whatever part they have? Good for the erection. Tree bark of any tree with leaves and branches and bark? Good for the erection.

- The sulfur springs are hot and really smelly. Nothing can survive in the area. Or so we were told. I definitely saw large, stone like creatures moving about and trying to hide. But I know what I saw.

- "Bus" "drivers" in St. Lucia are something to be avoided for long trips. For your average Rodney Bay to Castries trip, definitely pay the 2 EC and get in and watch Soca videos with your bus driver and try to refrain from asking him to watch the road instead of the new Soca video. Nobody likes a back seat driver. However, for longer trips, like say to Soufriere, stay the hell away from the buses. Not only do you have to sit in a bus and wait 2 hours for the driver to get enough victims in his death machine, but then you have to suffer through hairpin turns. I don't get car sick, but when I looked out the window while driving through St. Lucia's ridiculously omnipresent hills/mountains and saw only 3 of the wheels were firmly on the ground, I got a little worried. Sharp curves are not the place to pass on 1.5 lane roads, and not having guard rails on the side is not a dare to see if you can slip over the edge. I later found out we had the worst driver in St. Lucia (yelp.com???). I refused to drive back along the route, threatening to whole up in Soufriere for the duration of the trip. We met up with a friend of HD's mom at the Diamond Falls and she told us if we ran through the entire garden and only quickly glanced at the falls, we might barely be able to meet her and get on her boat tour for free or close to it. We didn't make it. Luckily, we found a friend of Dynamo's cousin named Ghost** who was the guide on another catamaran. Next paragraph, please!

- Ghost welcomed us on board with open arms that each held alcoholic drinks for us. We traveled to Anse Concho and went snorkeling. Coral and tiny colorful fish were everywhere, and it was beautiful. Peaceful, too, if you forgot about the 7 other identical boats docked there. Funny story about that...we didn't know it was our boat leaving, so we raced to shore, legs cramping up despite our Olympic swimmer abilities, ran across the sand to return our snorkeling equipment and swam back out to the boat, which had forgotten we were on it. And then I bought a conch shell.

- To read actual detailed stories of what we did and see some photos, read HD's many trip summaries here. It's well worth it. But come back to my blog at some point too, so I don't get lonely.

*By rainforest, our tour guide meant all of St. Lucia and probably the whole Caribbean too.

**Actually, probably nicknamed Ghost

St. Lucia Vol. 1 - A New Beginning

Me and Dynamo's trip to St. Lucia started off super promising. I was well rested from my 3 hours of sleep and in a very good mood when I stepped outside in the inky black of 4 AM to see our cab not in front of the apartment. After all that, there's nothing like the invasive fluorescent lights while waiting on a line at the airport. Nothing, except perhaps being told there's a mechanical problem on the flight, we can't take off yet, the engineer's in the cabin signing some papers and we're going to miss our connecting flight in San Juan. Oh, did I forget to mention the airport security thought my camera's batteries were a magazine for a gun, and all i could think of to say was sorry?

All bad feelings disappeared once we actually made it on to the 2 PM (wait, actually 3 PM since the plane was delayed) stand by flight, met Dynamo's brother (who seemed like a character off 21 Jump Street), were picked up by Dynamo's friend and didn't actually crash when his friend took his eyes off the road when HD demanded cash payouts. Yes, according to him, St. Lucia was basically one giant ATM machine.

We stayed at the Bay Gardens Hotel, deciding to go with a locally owned and run hotel rather than one of those ubiquitously invasive resorts that all the tourists go to (there's a reason it rhymes with Vandals). Arriving to find our twin beds clearly separated, a tropical motif and an A/C that kept out St. Lucia's humidity, we started to unpack.
"I think I will unpack my clothing and put it in the closet so it is well organized and nothing wrinkles."
"I don't think there's anywhere to hang them though."
*checking the closet* "There's hangars man. Like," *counting,* "11."
"So what, like 10?"
"Are you retarded?"
"Maybe. Does it help me?"

After that clever exchange, we headed to the beach, as we had info from our reliable CI that's where the party was. And she was right. Or it could have been he was. If by party, she meant really really dark night with some tourists partying at an overpriced resort and nobody else around. We took a nice, non-romantic stroll up and down the beach, chasing smaller crabs and running like crazy from larger crabs since they'll attack with them claws. It was during this time that I managed to get a shot of the previously elusive (and possibly unheard of) St. Lucian Loch Ness Monster. We also kept hearing this really weird noise, as if there were birdbats* around, which was explained to us by friendly hotel staff as "what we call crickets here." So, they clearly weren't crickets. Using my clever sense of deduction and realizing that lucians call bananas figs (which are clearly much smaller) I extrapolated "crickets" must be Mothra, or at least something comprable. Vacations are a lot more fun when not petrified of encountering giant flying insects.

*"What are you, some sort of weird half-bird, half-bat?"
"No, I'm 100% batbird!"

L Bo Likes Lists and Linearityness

I really like things to be in linear order, so I've added some new blog entries I've been meaning to include for a while in their original spot in the space-time continuum of my blog. It's not really an obsession, but I always have to know when things took place to make sense of an event as a whole. You can find exciting tales, as well as photos, of Saint Maarten, my first trip to St. Lucia (from 3 years ago) parts one, two and three at their links. And, as a special bonus since I'll be writing about my most recent trip to St. Lucia, I will also re-post the past posts in the present. You're welcome. I also really like lists, if you haven't been able to tell or you just refuse to read most of my postings. To explain this, here are things I like about lists, in list form:

• you never really have to make a complete sentence


• unless you really want to


• sentences don't need to form coherent paragraphs


• easy to read


• can print out and swap with roommates grocery list for kick when he returns from supermarket with plastic zebra and 12 turkey basters (not actually quite sure what list those would be on)