- Apparently, I had this big blue basket of books that I would drag around at all times when I was 3-4, and I would dump it everywhere and pretend to read the books. This would explain the reason why my room looks like this:
- If I didn't understand my math homework (absurd!) in my first few years of elementary school, I would literally destroy my bedroom out of frustration. I would violently throw everything off of my desk, knock it over, rip down posters, flip my bed, and stab the walls with assorted and pointed objects. My mom would threaten to videotape me and show my teachers. I don't know what this explains, but it's too interesting to leave out.
- Once when I was little, I asked my mom to take me "on a field trip" to the Post Office so I could mail myself a letter. Once again, I have no idea what that means, but I'm sure Freud would have a few words.
Oh, Sigmund... Who doesn't respect a psychoanalyst with sex-crazed mothers drooling over him and his psychedelic fluffy couch? Most people.
There was more to the overall conversation, but I'm far too lazy to keep going. You get the idea.