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Pretty much this same question was a writer's block on May 10 of last year. I want my money back, this prompt's recycled!

"My first car was a little red truck, hence LRT (Ell-ar-tee) I joked that it stood for Louis Renee Thibodeaux-but mostly I just called him by his initials.

My current car is Aya, after the firebird in a Mercedes Lackey novel. It needed a bird name because it had a tendency to collect seeds on the windshield and scatter them all over town. Plus Aya (the bird) was a loyal bondbird if a bit vain and I figured that suited my car pretty well. "


Speaking of, if it ever stops with the torrential downpours, I need to see if Aya got hailed on last night.

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Oh, come on people. Cheetos and Funyuns with Pink Floyd's The Wall. Maybe, maybe, Dark Side of Oz. Cheech and Chong, I guess, although that's almost too obvious. I'll even allow for the animated Hobbit/LOTR, just because cool.

4/20, kids. It's a pot reference.

And now nobody will ever believe I didn't smoke pot. But I didn't. Because I had asthma.

(Being John Malcovich did things to me that I assume are like being on drugs.)

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I hear that Australian possums are very fuzzy. I don't know if they're friendly, though.
Honestly, I'm too paranoid about things falling out of my pockets. I wouldn't do it. I don't usually have a shirt pocket, which would be the only safe animal pocket.
In amazing fantasy land, though, I'd totes have a bitty dragon in a magical not-squishing pocket. He would purr and be useful for lighting candles.
(Kittens already fit in jacket pockets nicely, and thus are excluded from this consideration.)

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Win by a mudslide? Like, I bribed everybody with alcohol, or my opponent was in a tragic national disaster?

If I won by a landslide-I'd call shenanigans. I'm too young to be president. And for all that I used to want to be First Woman President, I don't want the position anymore. Too much pressure, not enough power.

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Rudy ran away shortly after we moved to KY.  It was near Halloween, and I was devastated-black cats don't do well around Halloween.  Mom was putting food out to lure him back, but one night she forgot - only to hear a horrible yowling on the front porch.  It wasn't Rudy, but a half-starved little furball, demanding supper.  Naturally, Mom carried the poor critter into the garage-shushing me so Dad wouldn't find out right away.  And that's how Hachi moved in.
Rudy showed up a few months later-came in through the garage.  He sat on Mom's lap and 'talked' to her all night-clearly he'd had an adventure, if only we could have understood him.
. 

It's not clear from the pictures, but Rudy's nearly 3 times the size of Hachi.  Rudy is a sweetheart who loves to butt heads as a greeting.  Hachi has a bit of  a temper. 

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I'd open an automat and call it "The Snack Machine", so when people say they're just going to grab something out of the snack machine, they'd have somewhere to go. I'd serve whatever I wanted to on any given day, so people could gripe about how the snack machine was always out of their favorites.

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You know, I started to answer this several ways, but they're all so very cynical and I'm don't want to put cynical stuff out there. I guess what I've learned for myself is to keep my mouth shut when my blood sugar's low, because otherwise I'll regret it later.

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This sounds like the premise of some sort of fantasy novel. You have the Gondarr, guardian of Fluffy, the tabby whose destiny has been foretold.
This works better if Fluffy is the guardian, though.


Mew. Mew, I say. Quake in fear, for I mew at thee!

("Fluffy" will kill me when I get home. I will rue the day I gave her an undignified psuedonym!)

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LOL. Also, I'm a teacher. Good grief, yes. And sometimes they don't wait for the answer before they start asking. And some days I answer the question three times in a row, because obviously if I'm answering Sue's question, it's a super-confidential secret and you shouldn't listen in.

Why do people always want me to explain precognitive dreams to them? Do they really think I'm going to tell them, yes, there are tons of peer-reviewed studies with strict controls that validate ESP? If there were, don't you think I'd lead with that on day one? Because I totally would. "Welcome to psychology class, telepathy is real. Now about Freud. . . "
(I don't believe in Freud, either, but that's a different story).

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I wrote a letter to myself when I was about 12. My English teacher made us all do it, and she was going to mail them to us when we graduated high school. Of course I moved shortly thereafter so it's in some dead letter box somewhere. Still, I recall babbling a lot about time travel and how weird I knew it would be for future-me to get this thing and . . .

So 12-year-old me would be thrilled to know that I still think that's funny and weird and have a warped relationship with authority. (I follow the rules because it's easier, but I snark the policy even as I do it. I've worked places where filling forms out with European style 7's was forbidden-shortly after I picked up that style as an affectation. I filled out my forms twice, every time.)

12 year old me would be horrified that I'm a teacher, but then 12 year old me had no concept of adulthood. Herself might find humor at my having given in to the inevitable, it might very well be genetic. 12 year old me would be thrilled that I own Danger Mouse and Dungeons and Dragons on DVD, and would watch them with me.

12 y-o-me would be devastated that I'm in braces again. 12 y-o-me would be relieved that I've mostly outgrown monthly migraines and associated misery. 12 year old me would be devastated about the egg allergy, and relieved that I've worked out a brownie recipe.

12 y-o-me would be very, very confused that I'm still single. 12 y-o-me used to have to beat boys away with a stick-then again those boys turned out to be gay, so perhaps I'd forgive myself.

Finally, past self would be appalled that there's nothing better than dial-up. I might not tell past self that it's just because we're currently living in the boonies, so she wouldn't get her hopes up to much and broadband would be just as exciting when she gets it as when 18 year old me did.