Why do you REALLY want to know what color mascara I wore in high school?

My employer has finally gotten with the times and decided that, in order to secure the very important and confidential information on our intranet, I need to answer five personal, random questions lest I forget my coveted password. There are several questions to choose from on a variety of arbitrary subjects.

Pseudo examples:

What top secret name did you give to your favorite childhood teddy bear?

What book have you STILL not returned to the public library after twenty five years?

Which of your body parts is screaming for plastic surgery?

Where have you hidden the paper trail that leads to the boots that you bought online three months ago?

Random my ass.

My bank did this to me back when I was setting up my online banking account years ago. It all seemed so innocent. So nonchalant and unsuspicious. And yet I can’t help wondering if my husband was somehow involved in the making of these questions:

On average, how many times do you use your debit card on the weekends?

How much money do you plan on spending this Christmas? The honest answer, please.

When was the last time you opened mail pertaining to your Roth IRA?

And by the way, where have you hidden that secret stash of leftover Halloween candy?

This system might work for the bank and the government and the non-paranoid of this world. It doesn’t work for me. Back when I did actually lose my password and had to reset it, I struggled remembering what lies I’d told them six months before. That’s why I’m all for the systems where you get to make up your own private questions. That way I can give me, myself and I (*wink wink*) personal information about OTHER people. My kids, for example.

What does Emma say every time she climbs up her daddy’s back? “Giddyup Cowman!” Easy enough.

What happens when babies leave toys on Mommy’s bedroom floor? “The big, hairy guy trips and breaks his baby toe and then the toys disappear from the face of the earth forever.” A total no-brainer.

What does Jonah do every time he gets in trouble? Simple. “He draws a picture of his mother wherein she looks like Medusa, only with lightning rods for hair instead of snakes. If he’s REALLY in trouble, she’s drawn as a walking mass of flames. (I’m assuming it’s to signify her scorching hot anger as opposed to his wish that she burn in hell.) He then has his older sister hand-deliver the picture to said mother and mumble an apology on his behalf.”

See? Simple. Informative. Not-too-intrusive. And now you, too, can change my password to the Hypnotist Wannabes’ Secret Online Clubhouse.