We went camping this past weekend. Okay, that's not entirely true. Our family of five crammed into a cabin with ten other people and said we were "roughing it." We were, in fact, staying less than five miles from the site of the infamous attack of the killer bees. I had four bees land on me over the weekend, but no stings.
Really, it's just because I'm sweet. That and I regularly dunk myself into bathtubs full of honey.
I helped with the cooking while we were at the cabin, because that's my bag baby. And one morning we made cinnamon toast, which I haven't had in ages and really is as good as I remember it. For some unknown reason, we decided to make designs on the toast, because designer toast is where it's at. We don't use style-free brand name toast when we camp. We're all about the fanciness.
So I was trying to sprinkle a cinnamon smiley face onto a piece of bread, only the eyes kind of melded together. My cinnamon toast had a unibrow.
It's giving me a complex, actually, because I have this thing about eyebrows. Unibrows, of course, are signs that someone is a werewolf, cro-magnon, or mutant hairball. But the thing that really gets me are the women with scary eyebrows. You know the ones that I'm talking about: they who paint their brows on like warpaint and walk around with an expression of terminal surprise, only the warpaint is so scary that it's more like scary terminal surprise.
I've decided that every villain I ever write will have scary eyebrows. Bad supervillain in the first book? Scary superbrows. Zombies in the second book? Scary rotting eyebrows. Demons? Scary evil eyebrows.
I've decided that palm reading is for losers. I'm going to found the Brow Readers Association. We members of the BRA believe that you can learn everything there is to know about someone by looking at their eyebrows.
I went to high school with a girl who used to pluck out her eyebrows and eat them. She's a cannibal now.
Wow. That was really random.