Nancy has a boundless, endlessly-charming capacity to ask me "questions of maleness" (usually during the last five minutes of 24) that I stopped thinking about long ago.
At least, I think I stopped thinking about them... huh. Did I ever consider these questions of gender or budding sexuality or teenage trauma? I dunno... I never had much use for angst, actually. Too many games of Sinistar to play for that nonsense, know what I'm sayin'?
For instance, she recently asked me when was the last time I'd been beard-free. I'm pretty sure it was 1994... but I'm not at all certain. In addition, there's no sad story of scarring or thrilling yarn of witness relocation to go along with this 11-year long grooming habit... but I don't think that surprised her too much. I know she would have enjoyed such a tale... but she knows by now that I don't spend a lot of time plumbing the depths of my psyche. Mostly I toddle blankly from place to place humming Tijuana Taxi to myself and thinking about Star Wars... who has time for self-examination?
I may be thoughtless when it comes to myself, but I'm certainly thoughtful when it comes to Nancy, so in the interest of bridging the gender gap (which I'm told exists, but, well, I've never really thought about it), and to relieve Nancy of one of the "questions of maleness" that doggedly nags her, I offer this: everything you need to know about life behind that door.
Now answer this for me: why does Leia have memories of her mother, while Luke doesn't... when they were born moments apart, and their mother dies seconds later in the delivery room?
It's no wonder I can't remember my first crush....
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