I'm the Woman Who Makes All the Wrong Choices It's not like I tried to make them, you understand. It just sorted out that way. Every time. If I look outside and figure it was going to be a sunny day, you'd do best to grab an umbrella. If I look at two candidates and decide one was a better choice, you could lay excellent odds the other would win... by a landslide. If I see a new product at the store and really like it, you know it'll disappear after six weeks and the FDA will sue the company for two dozen wrongful deaths caused by it. If I'm dating two people and finally decide to commit to one of them, you know he's the one who turns into a controlling bastard while the other gets a dream job in Paris. It's always been like this. All my life, I turn "A", and "B" would have been the better direction. I turn back towards "B", and "A" is the golden road to opportunity and success. Or I'd do "C" when "D" makes more sense -- and of course when I do "D", its time has passed and "C" is all the rage. For a while, I tried to second-guess myself, thinking if I decided to do one thing and then consciously did the other, this jinx might go away. It didn't work. I still did the wrong thing. So now I market myself as the Woman Who Makes All the Wrong Choices. Companies hire me to choose between two products. The one I don't like is the one they go with, and invariably it's the successful one. Just last week, a recording company approached me with two different debut albums for the same musician. They liked one, but they weren't sure. I listened to them both, told them the one they liked was actually the better album. The one they hated debuted on Billboard at number one... with a bullet. See what I mean? So it turns out that making all these wrong decisions was the only right decision I ever made. For now, anyway. After all, it's only a matter of time. More coffee?