The Good News Is I'm Not A Serial Killer...

So, my... "Friend," Christine (AKA @KCBlueGal on Twitter and Fark and just about everywhere else) decided to use this amazingly precise and totally legitimate science called Graphology to analyze my handwriting and determine the liklihood that I will snap and kill people in a real estate office at some corporate office park somewhere.

The problem? Apparently, graphology requires cursive. I only write in print. And all of the samples she could find online (via my Notes to Self and scanned journal / letters / whatever) feature my sloppy-yet-readable-to-me-so-fuck-everyone-else print style of handwriting. So, to humor her, I wrote the following:

(can't see the image above? Click here)

The joke: this is simply print writing, smooshed up and connected by random lines until it eventually devolves into random squiggles that actually say nothing. But I seriously did find out that I have completely forgotten how to write in cursive, which I found way more interesting than the rest of the conversation.

Her analysis:
"It says that you're isolating yourself from your environment, socially, psychologically, or both... Fearing contact and closeness. It could also mean you've constructed gradiose fantasies for yourself that set you apart from others, or you are harboring suspicion and hostilities that KEEP you separate [from others]."

 ...All that from a fake attempt to write cursive. So I tried again, with an actual attempt to write in cursive. This was that:

(can't see the image above? Click here)

And her analysis:
"The good news is that you're not a serial killer. But this says the same thing as the first."

Well fuck. I guess I hate you all. Now excuse me as I go sit alone somewhere and remember that time I jumped my rainbow tiger-striped unicorn over a helicopter on a dare made by President Clinton. When I get back, maybe we can do Tarot cards, or some Phrenology.

Also, for real, I hate my friends.