Not really. I was just feeling a bit dramatic, is all.
Anyway, I open the inbox to find not even one piece of male enlargement spam (which is a relief, considering the whole "Use your dick to hit people!!!" Debacle of '04).
(By the way, Lisa, still want a commemorative t-shirt? 'Cause we could still totally do that.)
However, I did find a message stating I had a comment on MySpace, and the comment was from Syd, tagging my ass yet again (not that she's done that to me before, it's just that I've been tagged before, and this time, it just hapapened to be her doing it). According to her MySpace blog, I'm supposed to blog about "Six weird things/habits about myself."
I started this post, left it be for a week or so, then go to Lisa's blog and find out I've been tagged by her, too... Only this time, she's thrown in a bonus two things for you to analyze. Yes, friends, eight! She's passed the savings on to you!
So, here we go. I'm sure you have all heard this before (particularly if you've read my blog entry on 77 Things About Me. If you have, humor me. If you haven't, gaze in wonder...
My Six Eight Things (reflecting not even a semblance of order):
1) I have rules for eating M&M's.
Orange and blue ones should always be eaten together, or one after the other. The following color combinations cannot be eaten at the same time, or one after the other: red and yellow, green and yellow, and green and orange. An M&M of another color not listed in these pairs must be eaten between these colors. I'm so not kidding.
2) One day when I was seven, my aunt kept asking me every so often what time it was. I only found out much later that I was helping her keep track of her contractions with my red plastic Pac-Man watch.
I never told my cousin this fabulous story about the hours before his arrival on the earth. Except he might be reading this now, so that takes care of that.
3) My dog's middle name is Wooderson, in honor of David Wooderson from Dazed and Confused.
I feel that I must edit this, however, to include the fact that she has never owned a shirt with a picture of The Nuge on it.
Nor does Riley drink beer (much) or roll her cigs in her sleeve. But that's just her.
4) I have a fascination with cleaning gadgets that have intricate little nooks and crannies that have to be attacked with a modified something-or-other (yes, my utilization of the English language is entirely on point today).
Take, for instance, JJS's cell phone. I don't know how that thing gets as dirty as it does (I suppose it has to do with the fact that she wears makeup and I don't). For some reason, I find myself compelled to snatch it from her hands and work on it with a Windex wipe and a toothpick until it looks as fresh-out-of-the-package as it possibly can (which is difficult, since JJS also has a penchant for dropping her phone quite often). Don't get me wrong - looking at all the gunk that collects on electronics one puts up to their face can get quite repellent. But I get drawn in and have been known to obsess over the job for up to thirty minutes at a time. Did I get it clean in five minutes? Probably, but not to my trained, hyper analytical eye.
Now, try to hand me a stranger's gunky phone, and see how fast that shit leaves my hands. Almost as fast as the time I was about to use the loo at my friend Dave's house when we were in college, and I was about to have a seat when my eyes scanned over to the counter and saw the medicinal cream prescribed to his roommate used to treat a particular, ah, genital condition.
Wow, that was a long sentence. But I bet it took you longer to read it than it took for me to jump away from that fuckin' toilet.
(Am I only on Number Four? Yikes. Seems like I'm further down the list. I'm making an executive decision to count the last two paragraphs as my Number Five. I mean, really. My exit from that bathroom was almost comical. Not to mention the fact that I had to pee really bad for the rest of that evening, and made Danhole pull in to the nearest 24-hour store on our way home. Suffice it to say, we both made sure to never have any need to use the bathroom at their place again. And we felt so bad for Dave. Before my exodus from the bathroom, he was unaware that any of those shenanigans were going on in his house. We did equip him with a can of Lysol afterwards. Not sure if that would have helped in any way, but it made us all feel better.)
Okay, I'm back. Moving on!
6) My internal sarcasm filter is becoming less and less effective.
It's getting scary. I used to be able to stifle myself easily whenever someone did something asinine. Now, it's all I can do to not duct tape my mouth shut for the entirety of my waking hours. This is most troublesome at work, where the other new girl in training with me for the same job, except at a different branch, decides that her "years of experience in a job very similar to this" gives her license to try to tell me how to do my job (usually these suggestions are grossly incorrect anyway). Hey, it's either work on the filter, or just go ahead keep saying "You're a fucking genius" under my breath whenever she tries to boss me or tell me stories about her personal life that I never asked for anyway. Something tells me I'm going to get in trouble somehow, filter operational or not.
7) My history of having primarily guy friends dates back to elementary school; more specifically, the fourth grade.
My gaggle of homies back then consisted mainly of five boys: Steven, Charlie, Ari, Tejal, and Jamie. We went to a little Catholic school, Kindergarten through eighth grade, about 25 kids per class. I was friends with a few of the girls in my class, but had learned quickly that more often than not, girls in groups of more than two can often be a pain in the ass to deal with. It worked out pretty well, because I found myself hanging out with people who wanted to actually participate in kickball and dodgeball and get excited about Bruce Springsteen.
Also, in our last act as a group, the boys and I participated in the school Talent Show. We did a lip synch to the New Edition version of "Earth Angel," with the boys serenading me while I stood in the middle of the stage wearing an angel costume. As each of them took turns serenading me, I would "beat" the crap out of them, until at the end of the song, everyone was lying on the ground, writhing in pain, and my halo gets replaced with devil horns. It was really cute, and it killed in the auditorium under the parish center that year!
8) I never paid for a movie rental in college.
Whenever we'd have one of those nights when we didn't have a lot of money to burn, but still felt we needed to get out of the house for at least a half hour to say we didn't sit on our asses all night, we'd take the usual take-out and a movie route. This always included a trip to the local Hollywood Video, where a friend of mine from high school always managed to be working during that particular shift.
No matter what movie we picked out, when he scanned it, he would pull up my account and find "something wrong" with the last movie I "rented," so I'd get that one free. In four years of undergrad, I never paid for a single rental, and by grad school, I didn't have time to piss, much less rent something.
I miss those days. Even now, in the few instances I actually rent a movie, I half-expect Ryan to be standing behind the counter, getting me another free movie. However, since I am many years removed from those halcyon days, it's usually some pre-pube who was still working on potty training when Mallrats came out. Sigh.
Well, I hope the above soothes the savage beasts. I did the best I could, but I'm sure in the coming days, I'll think of other things I should've put here.
Now, here comes the taggin': I tag Joe, Ben, Gunnar, Karin, Cubby-San, Lexy, Kristina, and Brian. Get to blogging, or suffer my wrath!
(Which, really isn't a "wrath" so much as an "ire." Kisses!)
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