tag-teamed

I was tagged by both the lovely Cheryl B. and the equally-lovely Zeebahtronic for the "8 Things About Me" meme. Hot.

Actually, throw Cinemania into the mix as well because he also picked me for this exercise.

I feel so special. Or ganged up on. Not sure which...

Rules:
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

And away we go...

1. I do a mean Scottish accent. I simply cannot tell a story involving my very Scottish parents without imitating them. It's a huge draw at parties because I will do it on command. Seriously, last weekend at the Beer Garden, The Lovely Jess walked up to me and said, "Antiquated phone! Go!" and, on cue, I launched into this story complete with a Glaswegian accent at the appropriate parts. In truth, Jess requested "Transatlantic Phone Call" but that story is not in my archives. Bummer because it's a good one. I'll write it this week-ish.

1a. I'm The Lovely Jess's trained monkey. I really should start carrying around cymbals and a tin cup to collect change.

2. In college, I interned for Geraldo Rivera. I tend to think he's a tool but, believe it or not, he was quite nice to me. The producers of the show, not so much, but Geraldo himself was pleasant. I like to think it's because I was responsible for making his 6:00PM pot of hazelnut coffee and keeping the office stocked with Snackwells.

I also schooled his clueless production assistant on the finer points of buying beer. See, on my first day, the PA and I went shopping for green room supplies and beer for Geraldo's mini fridge, the same fridge I was later forced to defrost with plastic take-out utensils and a hairdryer borrowed from the makeup room. The upside of that exercise? "Handling freon" is now listed under the Special Skills section of my resume.

So, the PA and I went into a liquor store and she said, "Just buy a six pack because not all of the bottles will fit in the fridge." She then reached for a cold six pack of Sam Adams and I interjected, "Don't buy it cold if you can't keep it refrigerated. It will get skunky."

She had no idea what I was talking about so I explained the ill effects of re-refrigerated beer. At first she looked grateful for the tip and then her expression turned to disapproval. She sniffed, "Well, I don't drink very often!" in a tone that suggested that I, on the other hand, was a big ol' booze hound who made my own brand of hooch in my bathtub. I mean, I do but really, it isn't her place to judge me. Stupid beaver.

3. Every time I see that commercial with Erik Estrada promoting Bella Vista real estate on NY1, I'm tempted to sign up for the free property review. Who cares if it's in Arkansas! Free trip! Also, who knew Ponch was such an effective pitch man?

4. I've said this before but I cannot stress this enough: I have an irrational fear of mayonnaise. I cannot abide the stuff. When that commercial for squeezable mayo comes on television, I mash my eyes shut and plug my ears and go "LA LA LA LA LA!" I can't handle it.

In college, I briefly worked at a Stewart's drive-in. If someone requested mayo on their burger, I'd bring the production line to a halt and make someone else come over to my station to apply it. Or I'd throw the mayo packets in the bag and make them do it themselves. Minimum wage was not nearly enough to make me handle that toxic waste.

5. I'm petrified of thunder, a fear I no doubt inherited from my mother. During bad storms, she'd bust out the holy water and make us bless ourselves. In retrospect, didn't the application of water make us that much more susceptible to lightning strikes? At least our burns would be in the shape of a cross, I guess...

6. When I was in college, I spent three summers in a row working as a janitor, er, sorry... custodial engineer. My mother got me the job. Every morning, I had to report to the head custodian of a middle school and help the staff scrape gum off the desks and clean the classrooms.

Clearly, my mother hated me.

The classrooms were hot and stuffy and the janitors smoked like chimneys and cursed like sailors. There was a female custodian on staff named Carol who was a dead ringer for Carla from Cheers, right down to the tight curls, loud wardrobe and salty 'tude. She also insisted on singing along at top volume to every song that came on CBS FM.

Thanks to Carol, I will forever associate the sound of doo-wop with the smell of Fantastik and Merit cigarettes.

7. I am the winner of several dubious art awards. In high school, one of my black-and-white photographs was honored in a display right outside the racy Love Clothes, Ltd. store at the Mill Creek Mall in Secaucus, NJ. Jealous?!

The other award was Honorable Mention for a poster I illustrated in fifth grade touting the benefits of good posture. I even got a certificate from a panel of chiropractors. Again, jealous?

8. Despite my many proclamations that I'm The Worst Lesbian Ever™, I'm really good at softball. Like, I hit home runs, make double plays and still slide into bases and stuff.

8a. I keep Mineral Ice in my medicine cabinet at all times.

I hereby tag the following:

:: The Lovely Jess
:: JC
:: Meg
:: Eric
:: Rusty
:: Post No Bills
:: Tina-cious
:: House of Jero

If you do it, cool. If not, no pressure. I'll just silently hate on you. That is all.

soundtrack to [curly] (soul coughing, anyone? anyone?)

I pride myself on my carefully-crafted mp3 collection. I like to think that it's one of my crowning achievements. In fact, I can be a right haughty beaver when it comes to playlists and libraries. Take pride, people!

So, what better way to show off a portion of my beloved stash of songs than through this fun wee game I found over at Sheila's?

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Would the Soundtrack Be?

The Rules:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc.)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...

Opening Credits: "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn" - The Beastie Boys
Kinda perfect, no?

Waking Up: "More Than This" - The Cure

First Day at School: "Bottle of Smoke" - The Pogues
Apparently, my movie is taking place in Ireland. Or Woodside, Queens.

Falling In Love: "Hong Kong Garden" - Siouxsie and the Banshees

Fight Song: "Float On" - Modest Mouse

Breaking Up: "Come Together" - The Beatles
Ha ha ha ha.

Prom: "Girlfriend in a Coma" - The Smiths
Ten bucks says the prom chaperones would seize this opportunity to make a statement about drunk driving. "Use a designated driver, boys and girls! You don't want to end up like that poor girlfriend, the one in a coma!"

Life: "Useless" - Depeche Mode
What a perfect segue into the next category...

Mental Breakdown: "I Don't Mind If You Forget Me" - Morrissey
I think Morrissey would flattered that his music is associated with a mental collapse. He'd probably license it for free, in fact.

Driving: "Talk to Me" - Stevie Nicks
Awesome! I love to belt this out to begin with and a car has THE perfect acoustics for a sing-along. I love how Stevie's voice gets all ragged and pleading. Don't let anyone ever tell you coke abuse doesn't have its merits. Hello, bitchin' vibrato!

Flashback: "Why Do I Lie?" - Luscious Jackson

Getting Back Together: "Seattle" - Public Image Ltd.
Not if Johnny Rotten has any say in the matter.

Wedding: "Reader Meet Author" - Morrissey
Wow, this plot is kinda like the polar opposite of Misery, no?

Birth of Child: "Higher Love" - Depeche Mode
I can't quite place my finger on it but there's something really creepy about this.

Final Battle: "Personal Jesus" - Depeche Mode
I'm guessing this battle would be religious in nature and the person who scored the film is someone often accused of being overly literal.

Death Scene: "Sunday Girl" - Blondie
Aw, it would have been SO much better if it was Blondie's "Die Young, Stay Pretty" but what can you do?

Funeral Song: "Clubland" - Elvis Costello & The Attractions
I'm thinking this particular song in this particular context might have been better suited to the Party Monster soundtrack. Hmmm, now who's the overly-literal one?

End Credits: "Such Great Heights" - The Postal Service
Damn, my story just descended into The OC: The Movie.

(via The Sheila Variations)

have you ever..

Wow, it's been several days since I've written anything. In order to ease myself back into the process, I'm going to start out with something quick and easy. Here's something fun I found over at Sheila's.

Have You Ever...

Smoked a cigarette or tried it:
Uh, yup. Plenty o' times. Straight-up cigarettes in addition to the "funny" ones.

Crashed a friend's car:
Nope.

Stolen a car:
Despite growing up right near Newark, NJ -- the car theft capital of the world -- I never felt the urge to lift someone's ride.

Been dumped:
Yup. I have years of therapy bills and Paxil receipts to prove it.

Shoplifted:
Yes... but nothing major. Actually, I never nicked the items myself. Instead, I hatched the ideas and made my friends do the deed. Just call me the Teflon Curly.

Been fired/laid off:
I was let go from a part-time job once but fortunately, I've always left my full-time gigs willingly. ::knocks wood / turns in a circle three times and spits / says a Novena::

Been in a fist fight:
Never with another girl. As stated here before, I gave some boy an ass-whupping when he hurt my younger sister. I also threw another kid a beatin' or two. He was an annoying pest and I had the full support of the neighborhood kids whenever I whaled on him.

Oh and I accidentally gave a girl a fat lip. I was in first grade and the class was told to line up next to the teacher's desk. I bent down to tie my shoe or pick up my paper or something and when I stood back up, my head bopped some girl in the mouth. I had NO idea she was standing so close and hovering over me when I bent down. So, really, the fat lip was her own damn fault for crawling so far up my ass.

Snuck out of your parent's house:
Nope. My parents never kept me on a short leash so I didn't really have to rebel. I gave them plenty of shit about other stuff but curfew was never really an issue.

Been arrested:
No.

Gone on a blind date:
Yes, and it sucked. There's no real story beyond that. It was just really boring. I actually yawned in the woman's face.

Lied to a friend:
Sadly, yes.

Skipped school:
Like Sheila, I ditched in college but never cut class in high school. The penalty for cutting class in my high school was a week of 7:45am detentions. Skipping a 40-minute class was so not worth five days of waking up at the ass crack of dawn.

Seen someone die:
No.

Been to Canada:
Oui! I've got a bunch of cousins scattered around Ontario, eh.

Been to Mexico:
No.

Eaten sushi:
Of course.

Met someone in person from the internet:
Plenty o' times. See here, here, here, here and here. I also met THE EX through the Internet and many other cool people yet to be blogged about.

Taken pain-killers:
Mmm... hydrocodone.

Had a tea party:
A real one? I don't think so but I'm sure I had plenty of fake ones when I was little.

Cheated while playing a game:
Totally! In grade school, we used to play girls vs. boys tag in the school yard. When I wanted to get from one end of the yard to the other, I used to yell, "Girls are IT!" and the boys closing in on me would then run in the opposite direction. I was like Moses parting the mofo Red Sea. Naturally, as I neared base I'd yell, "SIKE!" It's worth noting the dumb ass boys fell for it EVERY time. Assholes!

Fallen asleep at work:
No, but I've come close.

Used a fake ID:
No, I didn't need one because I mostly went to places where I knew I wouldn't be carded. However, I did give my younger sister permission to duplicate my license and masquerade as me. Ah, lax pre-9/11 security...

Felt an earthquake:
No.

Touched a snake:
I think I did but I've since managed to suppress the memory. The details are quite fuzzy. Perhaps it's a side-effect of the venom...

Been robbed:
Yup. Someone broke into my Manhattan apartment a few years ago and stole my brand-new digital camcorder and a diamond-cut Claddagh ring my aunt gave me. My roommate had a diamond watch, a ruby necklace and some cash stolen. Fortunately the thieves were long gone by the time we got home and discovered the stuff was missing.

Should I ever be called for jury duty, I plan on playing up the emotional distress angle to dissuade defense attorneys from approving me.

Petted a reindeer/goat:
Both... and then promptly scoured my hands.

Won a contest:
Yup. One of my black-and-white photos won honorable mention in the Meadowlands Teen Arts Festival when I was in high school. How many of you can lay claim to the distinct honor of having artwork shown at the Mill Creek Mall in lovely Secaucus, New Jersey? Huh?!

I also won 3rd place in a poster contest trumpeting the importance of good posture. My rendering of a slouching man was a big hit with the local chiropractors.

Been suspended from school:
Nope.

Been in a car accident:
Yes. Some jittery old broad blew a stop sign just as I was entering an intersection. I couldn't stop in time and I clipped the back of her car. No one was hurt but she was given a ticket at the scene and I had to jump through fucking hoops to get the $2,000 worth of damage she caused to my Toyota from her crappy insurance company.

Had braces:
Yup. And a retainer. And bridge work. My grill is 'spensive, yo.

Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night:
Never. I'm lucky if I can get through a couple of scoops of ice cream, nevermind a whole carton. There was a time, however, when I was a big fan of frosting. I used to stick a container in the fridge for a couple of hours and then go at it with a spoon later. Mmm... I think I need to pay a visit to Key Food...

Witnessed a crime:
Yes. I was in the East Village with The Masseuse several years ago. We just had a lovely brunch at Stingy Lulu's and while we were walking along either Second or Third Avenue, we heard a scuffle behind us.

I turned around and saw a homeless man and a young woman playing tug of war with a bicycle tire. She was wearing a helmet so clearly the tire was hers and he lifted it when she was trying to chain up her bike.

She yelled, "Give it back!" and then he grabbed the wheel from her, swung around and smashed it on top of her head. He took off and we ran over to the woman who was bleeding profusely. The Masseuse called the victim's friend (at her request) while I called 911. We stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. Fortunately, her head wound was only superficial. Unfortunately, I'll never forget the sight of that man hitting her. It was truly awful.

Swam in the ocean:
Yup. I prefer pools though. I've been tossed on the shore and had waves crash on my head more than once so I'm respectfully fearful of the ocean. I pretty much go in to cool off and then get right back out. I'm also not a fan of seaweed slapping me in the legs. And even though they're harmless, horseshoe crabs freak me the fuck out.

Sung karaoke:
Once.

Paid for a meal with only coins:
I've definitely paid for breakfast and lunch with coins but never dinner. No one bats an eye when you fork over a pile of quarters for coffee and a bagel or a slice of pizza. The practice is shunned in the later hours of the day as the price of the meal grows exponentially here in NY.

I once bought $2.00 worth of gas with the change I found on the floor, in the seats and ash try in my very first car -- a Plymouth Horizon. Jezebel (as christened by my friends) was running on fumes and would have stalled on the highway if I didn't put something in the tank. I apologized as I handed over the dimes and nickels to the attendant expecting him to be all annoyed. Instead, he laughed and thanked me because he needed the change. So it worked out.

Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose:
Indeed. Pepsi, in particular, leaves a long-lasting tingle in one's snout.

Been kissed under mistletoe:
I don't think so.

Crashed a party:
No. I've fibbed about my credentials to get into press events but I've never shown up to a party uninvited.

Worn pearls:
Same answer as the tea party question. As a child, yes, but never seriously as an adult.

Jumped off a bridge:
No.

Ate dog/cat food:
Um, I don't eat meat fit for humans so the chance of me eating Alpo or Nine Lives is really quite slim.

Kissed a mirror:
Probably.

Glued your hand to something:
Apart from the very common fingers-glued-together Krazy Glue mishap, nope.

Done a one-handed cartwheel:
Aw, hells no. I can't even do a two-handed cartwheel. My somersaults are rather suspect too. Mary Lou Retton I am not.

Talked on the phone for more than 6 hours:
Many times and for WAY longer than 6 hours, that's for sure. I think my record is 12 hours. I was in a long-distance relationship at the time, what do you expect?

Didn't take a shower for a week:
Um, I don't think I've ever gone that long. I think the most I've ever gone is about three or four days, but that wasn't by choice. I was in the Appalachians on a youth group trip when I was in high school. The water supply was limited so we were restricted to "bird baths." After days of building, gardening, heavy lifting, etc., we were all good and ripe by the time we got home.

Picked and ate an apple right off the tree:
I don't think so. I don't find myself in orchards all that often and even then, I'm a big fan of washing fruit before eating it.

Been told by a complete stranger that you're hot:
Si.

all the small things, part 4

After a wee hiatus, I'm picking up where I left off here, here and here.

31. I don't like the word "pilaf." I'll eat it but I don't like the word one bit.

32. I still have a woobie that I sleep with every night.

33. I take my woobie with me on overnight trips... even business ones. I can't sleep without it.

34. I cut the woobie into two pieces and gave half to THE EX. After we broke up, she gave me back another sentimental gift I'd given her... but she kept the woobie. No one can resist the allure of the woobie.

35. I use the words "dude," "awesome," "like" and "anyhoo" far too much.

36. I don't use the word "circumlocution" nearly enough.

37. The difference between "secular" and "non-secular" always trips me up and sends me scrambling for the dictionary.

38. When I was a kid, I won a game of Scrabble through a contest sponsored by Alpha-Bits cereal. I didn't tell my mother I entered so she yelled at me when the UPS guy came with my prize because she thought I ordered something C.O.D.

39. I was the type of kid who would order something C.O.D.

40. My favorite joke (aside from the whole Helen Keller series, of course) goes a little something like this:

Q: Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?
A: Because it was dead.

Thank you, ladies and germs. I'll be here all week.

Numbers 1-10
Numbers 11-20
Numbers 21-30

all the small things, part 3

Once again picking up where I left off here and here.

21. I am the proud owner of a State Quarter collection. I'm missing Kansas and West Virginia. Anyone want to hook me up?

22. I always smell good, if I do say so myself. And I do. I credit my hair schmutz (Short Cuts Flip-Out) and my perfumes of choice (I alternate between The Body Shop White Musk Perfume Oil and The Body Shop Indian Gardenia Eau du Parfum). Truthfully, I'm not entirely sure that my hair schmutz isn't for men but it smells clean like soap and it works well in my hair so I don't give a fuck. Hell, I'd use Brylcreem and some Crisco if it held my curl.

23. I only pretend to like Joni Mitchell, Tom Waits and Lou Reed. I don't dislike them necessarily but I've given them each a whirl and well... I don't know what the big deal is.

24. Speaking of Lou Reed, Laurie Anderson scares me.

25. I make excellent popcorn. It's popped in a pot with a couple of drops of olive oil (cold-pressed extra-virgin preferably) and a dash of salt. Try mine and you'll never eat Pop Secret again.

26. I take great pleasure in marking email as spam and then emptying my spam folder and trash. Although, sometimes I have an itchy trigger finger on the delete button and I accidentally trash important stuff. I then curse myself and rue the day I showed no mercy on my in box and then curse myself further when I discover that useless things like old issues of Daily Candy are intact but the detailed request from my boss is long gone. It's uncanny.

27. My favorite cartoon is The Flintstones. I thought Barney was cute when I was little. And that Joe Rockhead was a bit of a hottie too, come to think of it.

28. I interned for Geraldo Rivera when I was in college. One of my responsibilities was greeting guests, bringing them to the green room and getting them coffee, etc. As a result, I met Alan Dershowitz, Denise Brown and a lot of politicians, legal experts and talking heads. Weirdest guest I ever met? That would have to be William Kunstler. Dude freaked me out with that Einstein hair of his and piercing stare. Oh and he gave me one of those creepy handshakes where he bent his middle finger and stuck his knuckle in the palm of my hand mid-shake. He was one spooky motherfucker.

29. My DVR is currently set to record every episode of Little House on the Prairie on TV Land.

30. That Nellie Oleson still chaps my ass.

Numbers 31-40 coming soon. I think. Maybe I'll just do 31-35. Don't rush me. This shit is hard work!

Numbers 1-10
Numbers 11-20
Numbers 31-40

all the small things, part 2

I'm picking up where I left off here...

11. I'm hesitant to shop at any business that attaches an "a-Rama" to the end of its name. That suffix makes me irrationally angry.

12. I don't drink milk. I'll put a drop of skim in my tea or mix it into a recipe but I won't pour myself a big honkin' glass of it. I'm wary of most dairy products but milk is the most loathsome.

My distrust stems from an incident in kindergarten. I used to drink white milk at snack time and was quite fine with it. But one day, the red-and-white carton with the cute picture of a cow on it was abruptly replaced by an updated model. I was instantly leery of this switcheroo. I picked up the carton and examined it. Mind you, I was 5 and couldn't read yet so I based my opinion of the product solely on the picture emblazoned on the container. There was no cow on this carton. Instead, I saw a frog.

My thought process was as follows: What's a frog doing on my milk? Hmm... the old carton had a picture of a cow, therefore the milk came from a cow. This carton has a frog on it therefore, the milk comes from... A FROG?!?! Ew! Frogs cause warts! And they eat flies and live in slimy ponds! Ew! I'm not drinking this!

I was totally grossed out. I refused to drink the milk. When my mother came to pick me up, my teacher took us aside and told my mother about my milk strike. "Why didn't you drink your milk?" my mother asked.

"Because it's frog's milk!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded. Both she and my teacher tried to understand my sudden vehemence towards milk and its relationship to the croaking amphibian. They tried explaining that frogs don't have udders and all that other biological mumbo jumbo but I wasn't hearing it. My mind was made up.

The next day at snack time, the teacher approached me carton in hand. "Curly, you're right. There is a frog on this carton." Then she pointed to the picture and read aloud the words in the frog's dialogue bubble: "Please don't smoke. I might croak." She tapped her fingernail on each word for emphasis.

"See? It's just an ad. And even though there's no picture of a cow on the carton, the milk still comes from one. The frog is just here to teach a lesson."

I though about her argument for a second. "Now will you drink it?" she asked.

"Nope," I replied. The frog was in my head and there was no turning back. I've since updated my reasoning but I haven't had a glass (or carton) since.

13. I suck at math. I'm totally capable of doing it but I'm lazy and don't try.

14. My ears are not pierced. It's not because I'm some tomboy dyke either. (I'm good at sports and enjoy watching them but I do not look like a tomboy in the least. Right, minions? RIGHT?)

Anyhoo, I've had my ears pierced twice and both times they got infected. I was meticulous about cleaning them with alcohol and turning them but my sensitive lobes had other ideas. Sometimes I'm tempted to try again but that shit hurt and I'm not sure I want to go through that pain again.

15. I do not like the word "treats."

16. I'm squeamish and easily grossed out. Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy in this regard. I will replay visions of gross things in my head and torture myself to the point of gagging. Last week, after I reported my dislike of pancake makeup, I conjured up this awful close-up of pores in my head. I made my own skin crawl.

I've found that the best remedy for this is to silently chant a mantra (or IM it to The Lovely Jess when I've looped her into my latest round of insanity). It goes a little something like this:

Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops

Say what you want but it works!

17. When I was 8, my picture was on the front page of a Port Jervis, NY newspaper. It was right before Labor Day so the reporter was looking for pictures of kids cramming in activities before school started. They found me fishing with my Dad (God, that sounds so Andy & Opie) and thought I was a prime candidate. The only problem was that right before they showed up, I had cast a line into the lake and the worm flew off. I assumed the worm landed in the water as that's a frequent occurrence with bait that it not properly attached to the hook.

Um, it turns out the worm landed in my hair. Yes, my hair. I found it while the photographer was snapping away. I'm sure my reaction made for quite the interesting photo essay. The picture that was used was an action shot of me with a line in the water. It was taken pre-worm discovery so the brown worm was camped out in my brown hair. However, to the untrained eye, it looked like the beginnings of a dreadlock.

* Bonus Fact: On another fishing expedition, I was walking behind my sister while she was casting a line and got hooked right square in the nose. The damn thing went right into my nostril. Yes, it's as painful and horrifying as it sounds.

18. I have never been in a fist fight to defend myself. I did, however, send a boy home crying to his mama because he picked on my younger sister.

It went down like this: Arnold shoved my little sister and my best friend's little brother; they both got hurt and started to cry; I saw red and WHAM! I punched that fucker right in the face; Arnold went wee wee wee all the way home.

19. I had my share of childhood traumas at school but I was never ever picked last in gym class. I was one of the most athletic girls in the class. In fact, I once single-handedly wiped out all but one member of the opposing team in dodge ball.

I was on a tear that day! I don't know what came over me. I was catching balls and whipping them back with super-human speed and precision. My class cheered me on while I ducked, weaved and jumped like I had never ducked, weaved and jumped before.

I annihilated the other team. It came down to me and one other girl who, I might add, was so NOT athletic. She had managed to stay in the game by hiding behind people in the back row. But there was no hiding now! She had to face me. We threw the ball back and forth several times. She behaved like a total sissy prancing out of the way of the ball and hugging the boundary lines (actually the boundaries were folding tables on either side of the court. I went to a parochial school and we had no budget for proper gym equipment, or even a gym for that matter, so we played in a multi-purpose room).

In the final play, I lofted the ball in her direction and she caught it in a "trap" on top of one of the tables at the far end of the court. Normally, a trap meant the ball was still in play but the gym teacher called me out. My mouth fell open and my third grade class nearly rioted. They screamed, shouted and protested but the ruling stood. Truthfully, I think the gym teacher deliberately blew the call because he was concerned for my health. My cheeks were flushed and I was sweating like crazy so he probably thought it wise to give me ample time to cool down before math class.

20. I have nice handwriting. (Can you tell I'm running out of ideas?)

Ew. I just grossed myself out again with the thought of those pores...

Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops
Sunshine and lollipops

Numbers 1-10
Numbers 21-30
Numbers 31-40

all the small things, part 1

My thoughts this week are scattered and I'm having a hard time writing a post on one topic. So what better time than now to write up a numbered list that allows for -- and encourages -- deviation from a single subject? (FYI, I'm taking a cue from those 100 Things About Me lists I've seen on countless sites.) However, there's no way I have the attention span to compile such a list in one sitting or the patience to wait until 100 before publishing so I'm going to do it in chunks of 10.

Kindly nag my ass if weeks go by and numbers 11-100 have not been posted. However, please note that I'm making an effort to not rehash some of the quirks I've already divulged in other posts (here and here). In other words, allow me some time to uncover new hang-ups and observations. I'm a fussy neurotic type so I don't imagine it will take long.

And now in truly random order, here are the first 10 things you may or may not know about moi:

1. I'm tall. I can almost always reach things on the top shelf at stores without asking for help.

2. I can deftly sneak away from the pile of rubble that ensues when I really should have asked for help at the store but didn't. If broken glass is involved, I'll fess up.

3. I do a mean Linda Richman impersonation. The fact that I already say "cawfee" helps considerably.

4. I'm a cartoon-like Good Samaritan. I actually helped an old lady cross the street one time. On another occasion, I assisted an old lady in stepping over a puddle. However, I did not drape my jacket over the puddle so I lose some points there.

5. The term "active cultures" on food labels concerns me. As such, I have to force myself to eat yogurt. I'll eat only one kind though -- Dannon La Creme Vanilla. Any additional ingredients (i.e. sliced banana, raisins, wheat germ, etc.) must be added by me or another person in my presence. I find that Fruit on the Bottom shit to be absolutely repugnant.

6. Even though I'm Scottish, I've never seen Braveheart. Shut up, it's on my Netflix queue.

7. I was nominated for class president in the third grade and lost to the most popular boy in the class. I think my bid was unsuccessful because the text of my campaign speech was quite fiery and pro-woman while my delivery was decidedly NOT. Public speaking is not now nor has it ever been my forte.

8. I've never broken a bone. ::knock wood:: I did, however, fuck up my left knee sliding into home during a softball game. I was waved home to break the tie but the catcher charged as I was sliding and we got all tangled up and I ended up spraining my knee (and being tagged out). I had to have an MRI and everything. To this day, walking down stairs is painful. Upside? I can always tell when it's going to rain.

9. I dislike the taste and smell of wintergreen candy, toothpaste, mouthwash, what have you. I'm all about the peppermint. Spearmint comes in a distant second.

10. My first real crush was on a boy I met in the Catskills. We went to the same campground every summer. For years we were friends who played Marco Polo and Manhunt and had so much fun together. It was fabulous up until that summer when I started feeling funny about him. I was constantly daydreaming about him being my boyfriend... and then I saw it. He was slow-dancing with a girl at a party! OUCH. I got over it eventually but oh, how it hurt at the time!

Imagine my surprise years later when I turned on E! and discovered that he grew up to become Gorilla, the intern of limited intelligence on The Howard Stern Show. For the record, I have no regrets that this crush didn't pan out.

Numbers 11-20
Numbers 21-30
Numbers 31-40

weirdo

I don't normally do the meme thang primarily because I just don't like that word. Meme. Not sure why but it bugs me. But I'll put aside my distaste because I found a rather fun one over at Sheila's. The task: Write down five of your own personal idiosyncrasies.

The hardest part of this was narrowing down my enormous list to just five. You see, I diligently foster and nurture my quirks much in the way others would dote on a ficus. Unlike the plants in my care, my hang-ups are lush and thriving. Case in point...

1. I despise the brown crunchy things in between layers of ice cream cake. I kinda don't care for ice cream cake all that much either. Well, if I'm being honest, ice cream in general doesn't really excite me... unless I'm in a bad mood. If that's the case, ice cream is the perfect remedy because you simply cannot lick an ice cream cone with a scowl on your face. Try it. You can't.

2. I have severe poop issues. Unless it's a DIRE emergency, I cannot poop at work or any place other than home. It's part of the reason I live alone. I found it to be very stressful when I had a roommate. I tried to time my poops after she went to bed or right before I went into the shower. Believe it or not, it worked about 90% of the time but there were a few occasions where I had to answer the call regardless of the roomie's whereabouts. It killed me to do it but I had no choice.

I think it's because I associate so much shame with my pooping that I also find poop and fart jokes riotously funny. I'm 31 years old yet I laugh like a 10-year-old boy at the first mention of poop. And I don't foresee me outgrowing this any time soon.

3. I'm a sucker for the one clap-two clap beat in a song. Even if I hate the song, I have to stop what I'm doing and clap once/clap twice/clap once in time with the music. It just has to be done.

4. My outer wardrobe is comprised of mostly dark solid colors -- brown, black, navy, maroon, that sort of thing. Despite my seemingly staid preferences, I have a rather outrageous underwear collection. The louder the colors and patterns the better. I haven't met a striped, polka-dotted, zig-zagged or leopard pattern I haven't liked. Cartoon characters are equally represented among my undies, namely Supergirl, Hello Kitty and Mickey Mouse.

5. Bumpy textures and folds FREAK me the fuck out. I'm positively horrified by close-ups of pock marks, cavities, crevices, fibers, etc. When I hear the term "nooks and crannies," I flinch. Stucco will never see the light of day in my home. Same goes for popcorn ceilings. Well, that's also because they're butt ugly. Furthermore, don't come near me with a cross-section of something unless your aim is to make me gag.

I once had a dream that my stomach looked like a moon crater and I tortured myself with the memory for months afterwards. I think I'm finally over the disgust. Actually, nope. Not true. If you'll excuse me, I need to go find me some ginger ale.

the book challenge

Sheila requested I participate in this wee survey and I will happily oblige...

1. Total Number of Books I've Owned:
Dude, this is like asking me how many breaths I've taken in my lifetime. Too many to count. I was an avid customer of the Troll and Scholastic Book Clubs. Those alone send my number into the hundreds.

2. Last Book I Bought:
Um... I think it was a Barbie book for my niece in Times Square but for me, it was The Plot Against America by Philip Roth and Dry by Augusten Burroughs.

3. Last Book I Read:
Naked by David Sedaris

4. Five Books That Mean A Lot To Me:

Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Steig
This was my sister's book but I think I read it more than she did. Even at a young age, I was impressed with the gold seal on the book. I had no idea what a Caldecott Medal even was but to me, it looked fancy and that signified quality and lo and behold, I read the book repeatedly and adored it each and every time.

Corduroy by Don Freeman and The Elves and The Shoemaker by Jacob Grimm (tie)
Corduroy: I loved that wee bear. I remember loving the warm yet vibrant colors in the book. I thought he was so lucky to be trapped in a department store. I don't remember why exactly but my favorite part was when he rode the escalator. I think I liked seeing stuffed animals and dolls doing human things or something. I don't remember all of the details but whenever I think of this story, a feeling of warmth and comfort comes over me.

The Elves and The Shoemaker: I loved this book probably for the same reason I love before-and-after decorating shows today. I like to see progress being made and hard work rewarded. It's gratifying. In this story, the shoemaker and his wife were totally poor and hurting for business. The elves came in late one night when the shoemaker was asleep and made shoes, you know, just because. They did it secretly and didn't want credit for it. The shoemaker woke up the next day to find tons of pairs of beautiful shoes, which the public then went nuts over and soon the shoemaker and his wife were rolling in it. And then they figured out that the elves were the ones responsible so they made them some nice clothes to replace their existing ratty togs. And everyone was happy and taken care of. I always found it thoroughly satisfying.

Mandy and The Beano collections
These were separate hard-cover collections of British comic books. When I was little, my mother often had to go to Scotland to take care of my ailing Gran. When she'd return, she'd have a bag loaded with tablet (condensed milk and sugar hardened into a sweet, cavity-causing bar), Crunchies, Flakes and issue upon issue of Mandy and The Beano. I think the latter is still in print but I'm not sure that the publisher is aware that in America something sold under the same name supposedly prevents farts.

Blubber by Judy Blume
I read Freckle Juice and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing but Blubber was the first (but not the last) Judy Blume book to resonate with me. I actually still have the book and I keep it among my most treasured things. The cover has fallen off and the pages are totally yellow and dog-eared but I will not part with it.

As a side note, I went to Catholic grammar school and the only Judy Blume book allowed in the library, believe it or not, was Are You There God? It's Me Margaret. There's no way in hell that Sister Mary Ellen, the head librarian, ever read that book because if she had, she would have realized it wasn't all that religious what with the bust-increasing exercises and all that talk about periods. She made a very broad assumption based on that title, let me tell you. It should have tipped her off that the book, along with The Outsiders, was consistently checked out each week and scores of kids would be huddled around someone's desk reading it. It wasn't 'cause we were religious, Sister.

Anyways, the school library was holding an art contest one year. Participants were asked to select their favorite book and create a diorama depicting a favorite scene. Naturally, I chose Blubber and then busted out my art kit and got to work recreating the scene where Linda gives an oral report on whales and explains to the class what a flenser does. It was a pretty rocking diorama if I do say so myself. Later that week I went to the library to look at all of the projects and I was crushed to discover that mine was the only one not on display. Somehow Sister Mary Ellen deemed it inappropriate. Probably because it was my own book and not some Beverly Cleary job I checked out of her library. Apparently, her logic was as follows: Making fun of a fat kid and ultimately overcoming the pack mentality = forbidden. Frank discussion of periods by somewhat sex-positive preteen girls = hunky-dory. I mean, that sort of thing IS totally hunky-dory but that old nun's reasoning for banishing mine wasn't.

Mom, You're Fired by Nancy K. Robinson
In this story, Tina, the main character, was embarrassed by her eccentric hippie-dippy mother and totally developed the nonsexual hots for her friend's mother who was well-dressed and totally put together.

This book was in heavy rotation along with Blubber. It really struck a chord with me because my mother was a bit older than the mothers of most of my friends. She was also Scottish and therefore didn't engage in the same banter that most young, American moms did. At times, I'd make unfair comparisons between my mom and others but then, being the big old baby that I was, I'd go to a slumber party and within minutes, I'd miss my mother terribly. The young, American mothers in charge could never soothe me the way my mom could.

5. Tag five people and have them do this on their blog:
Like Sheila, I don't expect any of you to do it but if you feel so inclined, please take it away. If you're not on my list, don't let that stop you either!
1. Occasional Bitch
2. Lachlan (My So-Called Blog)
3. The Bees Knees
4. The Ubik
5. Filomena