Professing * Reflecting

Monday, June 13, 2005

A meme in lieu of gloomy Medusa fare

Instead of thinking or writing about He-Who-Did-Not-Stick-Around-Long-Enough-To-Get-a-Pseudonym, I will do a meme (and then do some to work, before my noon appointment, really . . .)via New Kid and a whole bunch of others.

My uncle once: taught me that if I went off by myself, still within eyesight of my cousins who would not let me play the game they were playing, and became very interested in a new game I was playing alone that my cousins would lose interest in their exclusive game and beg to play with me. It worked. I think I still use this strategy is all kinds of strange ways.
Never in my life: did I expect to be an "expert" on the topic I am currently writing about.
When I was five: I made up a song called "That Crazy Number, Five" (which was about how five was much cooler than any other number I had been, because it had curves and angles) and sang it all day on my birthday.
High school was: boring, fun, exciting, angst-filled, happy, sad, and normal.
I will never forget: everything but that thing I cannot recall at the moment.
I once met: those famous people that I brag about so much (yes, I am that obnoxious person) that I cannot blog about them without identifying myself.
Once at a bar: Oh Jesus, worthy of an entire blog in itself.
By noon I'm usually: coming down from my coffee and nicotine high.
Last night: I returned from the brief shore retreat, slathered lotion on my sunburn, put hydrocortisone of my mosquito bites, had a glass of wine (okay, three), and went to bed.
If only I had: common sense.
Next time I go to church: I will be arguing with my sister about how we are not Methodists, how we have never been Methodists, and how her attempt to rewrite our family history by making us Methodists is merely an attempt to pass class boundaries in order to fool her children. Merry Christmas everyone!
I have a confession to make: I think I just did.
When I turn my head left: I see a pile of work I should be doing.
When I turn my head right: I see I need a coffee refill.
You know when I'm lying when: I accuse you of doing the thing that I am doing/being but lying about doing/being.
Every day I think about: work . . . and sex.
By this time next year: I will have quit smoking, will have x more publications, and will have figured out that I need to take my summer vacations in late May/early June.
I have a hard time understanding: right-wing wankers and left-lane assholes.
If I ever go back to school I'll: study physics.
You know I like you when: I laugh, really laugh, at something you've said.
If I won an award the first person I'd thank is: the Academy.
My ideal breakfast is: coffee, fresh fruit, yogurt.
A song I love, but do not have is: [To those few of you who have not contracted the disease that is this song in your head, do not--DO NOT--click on the link] "Everyone Loves Magical Trevor."
If you visit my hometown, I suggest: you tell me where it is, since we moved around too much for me to know.
Why won't anyone: bring me my drink already?
If you spend the night at my house: you will get to sleep on the title character in Futon: An American Tragedy (screenplay in development)
I'd stop my wedding for: Wait . . .I'M GETTING MARRIED?!?!
The world could do without: right-wing wankers and left-lane assholes.
I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: watch televised footage of other people licking the bellies of cockroaches in the name of mindless competition.
Paper clips are more useful than: those odd triangular clippy things.
If I do anything well: I will deny it until you tell me over and over again and then I will bashfully agree.
And [Strange to think] by the way: Whatever there is to know, / That shall we know one day.
The last time I was drunk: I curled up with a large dog in a cabin by the sea, passed out, and woke up wondering why the loudest crow and the loudest seagull who had ever crowed or shrieked needed to fight over whatever it was they were fighting over just outside of my window . . . and just how do they distill vodka from the potato?



Post a Comment

<< Home