In which I call my sister, Ziz, and ask her obnoxious questions at 4:30 in
the morning.  All of this actually happened, except for the parts I made
up.

Ring.  
Ring ring.

Ziz:                 Hel--                

Self:               Ziz!  Glad you’re awake.  Listen, what are my interests?

Ziz:                 What?! Who? I...SLEEPING!

Self:               Well, wake up.  Seriously.  What are my interests?

Ziz:                 Why???

Self:               Because I’m filling out this form, see, and I have to have  
                interests.  But I think I have boring interests, you know?

Ziz:                 What time is it?

Self:               Four-thirty.  Anyway, think!  Interests!  Mine!  Go.

Ziz:                 Four...?  Okay.  Fine.  Interests.  Um...writing?

Self:               Got it.  But that’s so generic.  What else?

Ziz:                 Well, you...paint?

Self:               Got that one, too.  

Ziz:                 And reading, and – wait.  What is this for?

Self:               An important form!  I told you.

Ziz:                 You’re not, like, placing a personal ad in the paper or something,
                are you?

Self:               No, fool.  I’ve got the Dukay love.

Ziz:                 Okay, fine.  ‘Cause if it was a personal ad, you’d have to say
                "walking on the beach by starlight," I think.  It’s like a rule.

Self:               Well, it isn’t a personal ad.  And besides, even if that was my
                interest, I wouldn’t put that.  That’s like what the naked women in
                Playboy say.  It’s so...
centerfold.

Ziz:                 ...“Centerfold?”

Self:                Right.

Ziz:                 Which became an adjective when?

Self:               Shut up.  I was an English major.  You’re just some TV person.

Ziz:                 Fine.  Right.  Okay.  But what’s this for, really?

Self:               My Friendster profile!

Ziz:                 (Silence).

Self:               And yours is really good, because you put in all this, like, unusual
               stuff.

Ziz:                 You woke me up...at four-thirty in the morning...

Self:               Yep!  But I totally shouldn’t have, because you’ve been no help
                whatsoever.

Ziz:                 I...?  Hey!  And besides, you’re the reason I had to come up with
               all that crap, because of that testimonial you wrote for me.

Self:               Which one?

Ziz:                 The one that said I was the inventor of the vertical stripe.

Self:               Oh, right!  And that you were raised by wolves, which is why you
                have never had a “bad hair day”?

Ziz:                 No.  That you wrote for my boyfriend.

Self:               Oh, riiiiiight.  Anyway.  You = Not helping me.

Ziz:                 FINE.  Okay. You’re interested in...dude, you know, you’re kind of
                obsessed with the Amish.

Self:               Am not.

Ziz:                 No, you totally are!  It’s freaky.  Like, remember that time you had
                the dream where I called you, and told you I had just gotten the
                lead in a musical called “Amish Spectacular!”?

Self:               Um...no.

Ziz:                 Liar.  This was like, last week.

Self:               You don’t say.

Ziz:                 I do say.  And there were songs, too...”It’s the Amish Life, for us,
                it’s the Amish Life, for us!  We are holy, IT is true!  So God loves
                us, MORE than you!”

Self:               That must have been your other sister.  The one you don’t have.

Ziz:                 And then there was that whole, “If I’m ever randomly interviewed
                on television, I’m totally going to make fun of the Amish.”

Self:               Oh, I never said that.

Ziz:                 Indeed, you DID.  Granted, you were drunk, but frighteningly, it
                made a weird kind of sense...

Self:               I know!  I know!  ‘Cause you could totally make fun of the Amish
               all you want on TV or on the internet, and they
will never find
               out!  

Ziz:                 You could have an entire network dedicated to making fun of the
                Amish, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week!  Because
                
they don’t watch TV!

Self:               A website called www.screwwiththeamish.com!  Because they
               don’t use computers!

Ziz:                 It’s sort of brilliant, if you didn’t like the Amish.

Self:               But I don’t not like the Amish.  I cherish the Amish.

Ziz:                 So put them as an interest.  And stop using double negatives.

Self:               No.  And no.

Ziz:                 FINE.  

Self:               Okay, well, I still have nothing, thanks to you.

Ziz:                 I gave you a perfectly good idea.  And now I’m going back to bed.

Self:               Hateful.  I'm going to have no Friendsters thanks to you.  

Ziz:                 Oh, stop being so centerfold.  Remember, I invented the vertical
               stripe.  

Meet my
Sister.

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