Harry Potter Quiz

Snape's Girlfriend! You're Snape's passion and classy to the core
He'd die for you and that's the way you like it. You spend long nights
speaking Parseltongue to eachother and making naughty potions
and spicy unguents to use on one another. You're his and he's yours.
nothing can come between you; not even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.


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Look! A *real* journal post (not a meme, not a quiz!)

Mr. Bug's company is offering disability insurance to its employees. There's the option to buy group disability insurance or go solo and buy an independent policy. Because there's more than one option, the insurance agent has come to our home to show us all his boring booklets and share all his boring factoids. Insurance. Necessary, yes. Thrilling, no.

Because of our schedules, the insurance agent has come to our house at 8pm on two separate nights. Both nights he didn't leave until 10pm. As I've probably mentioned before, I'm not a very social person. He's a very nice guy and easy to talk to, in general, but at 10pm there are few people I want remaining in my house other than my immediate family (unless it's a party). So, the last time he was over, I was getting a little stir crazy sitting there listening to his spiel.

Finally, at about 9:45pm, I couldn't take it anymore and laid my cards out on the table. "It's best you leave the information and let me read it because I just don't absorb spoken instructions and information well. You'd have a better chance of me understanding it if you sang it to me." I don't remember how it degenerated so quickly but after a bit of witty interchange, I proclaimed, "To tell you the truth, when it comes to stuff like this, you'd be better off explaining it through interpretive dance."
"Interpretive dance?" he exclaimed, in disbelief.

Can you guess what I did?

Yes. I got up from the table and did a short, interpretive dance that represented disability insurance. I tippy-toed sideways toward the refrigerator, arms over my head. Then, I did a lurching, jerking movement to represent an injury before doing a "I'm lame", limping dance toward the counter. There, I changed roles and did a small ballet step while miming someone giving out cash. Changing roles, again, I became the disabled dancer and accepted the money with a gasp, smile and a short, jubilant dance back to my chair.

To give credit where it's due, the insurance agent just laughed. Earlier in the meeting, I had commented that he must meet a lot of "odd", interesting people in his line of work. I think I became one of them.