A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Friday, July 13, 2007

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

I don't understand this tagging hooplah. I know I don't usually like to be "it".

1) While pregnant with me, my mother was continually ravenous for corn on the cob. I was a summer baby (August), so it worked out; bountiful fresh corn, and an excuse to eat all she wanted. The night she went into labor, my grandmother had prepared one of those huge southern feasts. Baked ham, assorted fresh and fried garden vegetables, corn bread, beans, taters, sweet tea, and of course, corn on the cob. My mother was just raising an ear of corn to her mouth when her water broke. My grandmother snatched the ear out of my mother's hand, which my mom still resents, and began barking orders as only a grandma can do. I arrived a few hours later.
I don't know whether it was the insane amount of corn I vicariously ingested in utero, or just the story, or what, but I'm not a fan of said starch. I could go the rest of my life without it and be totally happy.

2) I have an unusual, tiny birthmark in an unusual place.

3) I, similar to LT, have a fortune taped to my desk at work. It reads, "Look ahead or you won't get ahead." It felt appropriate for work.

4)Huge, irrational fear of tornadoes. Well, not so much irrational. They can kill you, after all (and they enjoy it). But even in an ordinary thunderstorm, I look up at the sky a lot and strain my ears trying to hear the fabled "train" sound.

5) On the first day of sixth grade, we had to play a game similar to this one. There was a stack of separated squares of toilet tissue on a desk, and we each had to take as many from the stack as we liked. I took seven. Then we stood in a circle and it was revealed that we had to say out loud, on the spot, one thing about ourselves per square we had taken. Panicked, I confessed that I had three hamsters (not so embarrassing)... and then demonstrated what they looked like running on their wheel. Yeah. Complete with "paws to chest" motion and tilted back head with passable hamster-face impression. For the rest of the year, I was the "hamster girl." Luckily, everyone forgot over the summer and I actually made friends in seventh grade. So sixth grade is the year I learned true empathy for the Dawn Weiners of the world.

6) If plied with a few glasses of wine, I may entertain you with a stirring rendition of "I don't know much (but I know I love you)", singing Aaron Neville's part. This talent was somehow coaxed out of me by my cousin Megan, who continues to this day to make me do it over the phone.

7) In exactly two months from today, I will be bringing my husband home from training. In exactly two months and fifteen minutes from today, I may be pregnant.

8) Filing monthly state witholding taxes makes me doubt the existence of good in mankind.


theogeo said...

I read No. 4 as "huge, irrational fear of TOMATOES.

Which made sense (they can kill you -- hello, killer tomatoes!) until the train part.

Yeesh, I'm illiterate.

Anonymous said...

If plied with a few glasses of wine, I may entertain you with a stirring rendition of "I don't know much (but I know I love you)", singing Aaron Neville's part. This talent was somehow coaxed out of me by my cousin Megan, who continues to this day to make me do it over the phone.

Best! Oh my god, I couldn't stop laughing at this. If one paragraph had to explain what I love the most about you and Megan, this would be perfect. I can just hear it, thought I've never heard it. And I can hear Megan begging you to do it. So hilarious!

Anonymous said...

I feel privileged to have now heard your Aaron Neville song.

Although I suppose the price I paid pretty much covers it (roommate awakened by me loudly, drunkenly singing Tenacious D songs over the phone with you in that quivering voice we both get when we're being funny / trying not to laugh).

Congrats on getting to see Lucy, and sorry to call and spread my mushroom cloud of depression.

After that I took a ten minute run during which I cried hysterically, and then came in and wrote 26 pages on my screenplay.

I'm such a fucking weirdo.

sarah saint said...

I wish there were something I could do...

Is there something I can do?

I'm picturing this scenario like a Disney movie. The heroine (played by you) is sad about something and her friend, the squirrel (me), is chattering away nonsensically and looking up with big, eager-to-help cartoon squirrel eyes.

You can spread your mushroom cloud any ol' time. Sorry I couldn't call back. Reception in the Ozarks blows.

Anonymous said...

Hey, hope you're feeling better. The voice mail I got this morning didn't SOUND better, but I hope you fell asleep pretty soon after you left it.

I tried to call you, but it's getting close to 11pm here and you may be already asleep.

Sorry I couldn't talk longer last night, but it was date night, and Danny was getting pretty pissed that I kept getting on the phone since we hadn't seen each other in AGES. You certainly know that feeling.

Anyhoo, call me later or whenever.

sarah saint said...

Yeah, I'm better. Just reeling in the aftermath of talking to an ex. Wondering what magic number of bottles of beer need to be consumed in order for me to think it's a good idea to talk to one of the fouler creatures of this earth.

I'm sorry I called you on date night. Did ya'll have a good time?

Anonymous said...

Yep, we did have fun. It was nice. We fell asleep during the second movie.

And the advice I gave you that night? I stand by it.