A friend posted this linked test on her social microblogging area.

My answers to the questions were as follows:

• Who are you walking with?
  • Solo (keep in mind the photograph shows one person in the woods)
• What kind of animal is it?
  • I shouted “kumquat” but was envisioning an animal somewhere between a meercat and a koala.
• What does the animal do?
  • It splays itself open displaying a sort of doll-house interior alloted with organs and says “try my sausages” (thinking of the sausages described in Tampopo of yams and wild boar casings)
• How big is it?  Is it fenced or no?
  • “What?  Fuck no!” (truth be told I was thinking of the meerkoala but the same would hold true for the small house)
• Describe what’s on the table.
  • There is a note on the table.  (of important note, the house is not described in the description as “your house” that only come in the explanations set)
• What is the cup made out of?  What do you do with the cup?
  • Brass or perhaps gold.  I look inside the cup.
• What kind of body of water is it?  A lake? River? Pond?
  • A lake.  Not unlike the lakes you might find walking through the woods in the Pacific North West.
• How wet do you get?
  • Fully wet if I swim but only under my knees if I follow the coastline.

As a way of telling their version of my tale, I will just turn these answers into a narrative based on their answer parameters.

I am the most important person in my life.  Then again who isnt?  My problems are about the size of the illegitimate love-child of a meercat and a koala bear.  I have the appearance of aggression because I splay my innards open and offer my organs for perusal, but there is no pain involved and I can close the case and return to my peaceful existence in a blink.

My home is of an ambiguous size because I never saw the exterior but only saw the room I entered with the table with that note.

No fences.  I am open.  (I splay myself, remember?).

Yet, my table only contained a note.  There was no food on the table (of course I just ate).  There were no people on the table (of course people don’t spend so much time on tables these days).

There were no flowers on the table.  I am now a little sad there were no flowers with the note.  But there was a note.  Presumably that note was from a person.  I feel good knowing that but I must make a mental note to complain about the lack of flowers.

There is a brass cup, a challice ifyou will, which has survived aeons of abuse and still rings like a bell.  (Side note: it might be gold.)  In short, I love me.  And I love looking deep inside of me.  (I love it enough to splay myself open, remember.)

There is a lake that is about the size of my libido.  I love to go fishing there.  For no apparent reason I have never built a path to circumnavigate this lake beyond which I live, so I sometimes swim across.  But if I don’t want to get soaked, I can stick to the shallows and wade the whole way ’round.

(Which I suppose can only mean that sex is both extremely important and only up-to-the-knees important to me.)

Fuck, I laughed my ass off.