Apparently, there’s a new disease circulating around the blogosphere – filthy blog pox. I caught it from Dave. To get rid of it, you have to post eight random things about yourself.
Random fact number one: I am egotistical enough to a) have a blog and b) think you care enough about my personal life to read the following seven facts. Or, maybe you don’t care, and you’re just bored. If so, you and I have a lot in common.
2) I know you think I spend all of my time writing for free out of the goodness of my heart, but I’m quite the mercenary and enjoy writing for money much more than writing for the thrill of a blog comment here and there. I do a lot of home design work – one of my latest is this amazing firetower.
3) I am terrified of white bread. As a small child, my mother found my phobia odd. Convinced I would like it the more she tried to make me eat, she would shovel it into my mouth without abandon (also without awareness as to whether or not I was actually swallowing). I think I choked a few times, and it scarred me. My older sister, who undoubtedly watched all this while rubbing her hands together in fiendish glee, used to chase me around the house with bread for fun. Or was it for torture? Either way, also scarring. Then, I grew up. And my friends in high school and college who discovered my fear would cover my car in the filthy stuff – windshield, door handles, everything – at which point I was reduced to a (walking) blob of bread-centered neurosis.
4) While I can't eat white bread, I can eat Mexican food everyday of my life … and often do. Sometimes for breakfast. Now, I could leave this random fact at that, but like the doting dog-mother that I am, I'll use any excuse to talk about Buddy, or "Doggie" as my mom calls him when she forgets his name, which is usually every time we talk.
The other night, I was sitting on my bed eating a plateful of chicken enchiladas, rice and beans. I mean, I was sitting properly at the kitchen table. Who eats in bed? Gross. Anyway, to the right of my plate was a Kleenex with the evidence of my three-week long cold/strep throat/personal hell (otherwise known as impressively large snot globules). Doggie walked up, sniffed my plate for a second, and shot me a look that says, “You’re going to eat THAT.” As I sat there, reflecting on the fact that my culinary sensibilities were being judged by a creature who frequently licks where the sun don't shine for fun, Doggie grabbed the tissue and swallowed it whole. Obviously, he is not a fan of Mexican food, which I’ll remember when planning the menu for his next birthday party.
5) Speaking of parties, I haven’t always given my dogs birthday parties, but we always gave them Christmas presents, which leads me to the fact that…
6) I never believed in Santa, or sat on his lap in a mall. Actually, I think my parents tried to make me once, but I told him he wasn’t real. Also, I told all of my little friends he wasn’t real. I got coal in my stocking one year. No one was surprised.
7) I was homeschooled for eight years, at which point I transitioned into a private high school where I got into exorbitant amounts of trouble, so my parents decided to ship me off to a (tiny) strict, Christian school for homeschooled kids just outside Washington, DC. I don’t want to make it sound like I was forced, though. They gave me options: it was that or one of those boot camps for rebellious teens. Being the academic that I am, I chose the former.
8) Until college, I had only made one “B” in my life. It was in penmanship. I cried, a lot. When I made a couple more in college, I cried again. Bonus: I can cry on command. Useful for getting out of a speeding ticket, making a man feel uncomfortable and panicky, or cleaning out your tear ducts.
Overachiever that I am, and to be sure I’m properly immunized, your facts now come with 37% more bonus randomness:
9) I love wit and sarcasm. If you can banter with me, you’ll be my friend for life. In conjunction, I love Stephen Colbert; I hate The Office.
10) I’m a pastor’s kid and grew up thinking I would marry a pastor. Speaking of marriage, I broke the “family code” by not marrying at 22. This bothers my mother greatly because she fears I’ll become a bitter old maid. It bothers my father because he wants me off the family’s phone plan.
11) I’m heading to Atlanta to volunteer with kids over the next six months, after which I’ll need either a job or a husband. I’ll be accepting suggestions for both over the coming months.
Now, I’m off to infect Paco, Becky, and Liberty Drum and see if they’ll play, too.