This began as a game we play at work. I say 'we,' but what I really mean is that it's a game my coworkers play while I am in earshot. The original title was "Why She Ain't Right," but slowly morphed into "Why She's an Alien." Let's see if I can remember 50. Kind of like one of those '50 Things" or '100 Things.' Only not at all.
These may, or may not, be true.
1) I have a sense of smell that dogs would envy. I can tell if someone has been sick lately, if they're getting enough vitamin C, and how they're feeling just by how their body chemistry differs on a particular day. I can also pick out great melons.
2) The space-time continuum does not seem to apply to me.
3) My pain tolerance is not normal. I am constantly looking down at my hands, seeing blood, and being mystified as to when or how that could have happened. One time I only realized I'd cut myself because the slicer made a weird sound while my hand was near it. This is Hawk's favourite reason to site for why I'm an alien.
4) I am a complete klutz. Your earth gravity befuddles me.
5) I do not tan. Ever. I don't even burn, like you'd expect in someone whose skin was the colour of cooked egg whites. Apparently my skin in impervious to the effects of your earth-sun.
6) My hair is a living, cognizant, independent, and rather impudent being. Yesterday it thought it was a sea anemone, today a parakeet.
7) I can drink many cups of strong black tea in a row and not feel the effects of the caffeine. I say it's because of a time I drank 6-8 cups of coffee a day. Hawk says it's because of my extraterrestrial digestive system.
8) Mysterious illnesses. To me, not mysterious at all. To them, watching me nearly collapse in pain because some dumbass is wearing half a bottle of cologne and it's triggering a migraine actually indicates that, were my planet ever to invade, my species could be fought off with supersoakers loaded with Eternity for Men.
9) I once referred to a very cute baby as an "unripe human."
10) I can remember the facts that Pliny the Elder wrote about Cantal and that Riopelle was named after a painter, but actually remembering the codes for cheeses, 4-digit numerical codes that I use literally hundreds of time a day, seems to be impossible. Numbers vex me.
11) I have two ankles on each foot.
12) I have mysterious scars, clearly from implants that allow me to survive and my homeworld to track my progress.
13) When Hawk hurt his back, I prodded him gently in three places and told him what he'd done and how to fix it. Hawk now occasionally accuses me of "dissecting him with my mind."
14) I am warm blooded, so cold doesn't really bother me. I didn't notice, in fact, that JB, my former Manager, had forgotten to even turn the heat on. It was January when Crap Sandwich, my other Manager, discovered this. She almost had a conniption fit. I said I always thought the cool was better for the cheese. It was at this point that CS started playing the game along with everyone else.
EDIT: The following entries were actually generated by my husband. I told him about the game, expecting sympathy; instead, he announced that he thought it was a great game and asked to play. That's right. Pity me.
15) I have the ability to fall asleep anywhere. Ed calls this my narcolepsy, but it's not exactly the same. I can sleep upright in chairs, propped up on the floor of Broken City, curled up in a snowdrift.
16) I think it might be physically impossible for me to ruin a pie crust. I have been making fresh pastry since I was a child, and never yet had one fail or split. Every cooking show always reassures more than they instruct re: pastry, so Ed has come to believe that baking is hard and pastry-makers have supernatural ability. Seriously. Sometimes I don't even use Cold Butter.
17) Despite being a resident of this planet for 23 years, I can't seem to fix it in my head that traffic is actually dangerous and I should probably avoid wandering into it.
18) I sometimes sculpt little ducks and dinosaurs and people out of tootsie rolls. Or bread. anything pliable in a storm, really.
19) I don't really talk in my sleep. I don't open my mouth, but I make the sounds in my throat as if I were talking. In my sleep. So I've heard.
20) There are about 5 or 6 locations that I tend to dream about, none of them real places. At least, not earth places. Ed believes I meat with my commanding officers in these somnolent places.
21) I can watch graphic surgery on the Discovery channel without batting an eyelash, but fake violence and gore in movies sometimes freaks me out.
22) People open up and talk to me, despite their best efforts to be closed and secretive. I believe it is a genetic predisposition I inherited from my mother. Ed believes it's due to my advanced training in earth information extraction techniques.
23) All it takes for a tv show to be canceled is for me to like it. God, The Devil, and Bob? Stressed Eric? What it's Like Being Alone? Gone the moment I tuned in. Apparently the government believes I communicate with my overloards through the television.
24) Someone, something, is looking out for me. I have lost track of the number of times I should have been killed or dismembered. I must be kept intact until the end of my mission, so sometimes the higher-ups interfere.
25) Ed cited my "fashion sense" as a reason I am an alien as well. I was somewhat hurt by this, until he explained that he was specifically referring to the fact that I have 3 different sets of antennae affixed to headbands. One of them lights up. Apparently I wear the artificial kind because I miss my real antennae.