So, Buzzardbilly has tagged me. Taggity taggity tag we go, running around the playground. I like being tagged! I won't run away! I'm terrible at dodging! I'm really slow too! TAG!
And here's what I have to do...
Post 8 random and interesting things about myself that nobody knows.
Dude? NOBODY? Really? In over 600 posts, is there anything I haven't told y'all about me (besides the things I'm not prepared to tell anyone just yet)?
Apparently so, and here they are:
1) I don't feel the need to make my bed very morning, yet LOVE it when it's made. It's a daily struggle, people. Choice 1 - Spend two minutes making the thing and being all Martha-happy when it's done, or Choice 2 - NOT making it and being a tee-tiny little housekeeping rebel? Hint: the older I get, the more tempted I am to make the bed.
2) Despite #1, I do not make the Things make their beds. Unless Grandma is coming. Which is when they also have to brush their hair.
3) My favorite part about going to sleep is the "lying in bed after the alarm goes off and remaining in the nice cozy warm soft place of rest" for as long as humanly possible. Anyone who's read here for any length of time know that I do have fantastic dreams, but they're not my fave part of sleeping. This "laying about in bed" is why weekend mornings are my absolute favorite time of the week. Yup, weekend mornings even beat out cocktail time.
4) I had the distinct pleasure of talking with dear Tracy Lynn Kaply the other day. For reals! On the phone! It was like talking with an internet supah-star! Her energy is infectious, her scope of knowledge is immense, and I'll say right here that she's better than most stand-up comics I've ever seen. The woman is funny, people, and has great taste in personal-care items. Go on, ask me how I know. ;) I'm stockpiling the energy right now to talk with her again soon, because dudes, the residual energy present after hanging up with her propelled me through a day-before-thanksgiving trip to WalMart in a state of zenline satisfaction. That's some powerful phone mojo, right there.
5) I missed my chance to be on teevee when in the eighth grade. The middle school musical of which I was a part was given the chance to be on local teevee, and I did NOT make the cut. I was not an "emoter" at the time - far too self-conscious for anything like that. As fate would have it, one of the girls that DID make the cut wound up with her OWN teevee show - "The Beth and Bowser Half Hour," and thus I hated her. But only in secret. I was a seething mass of conflicted emotions, a 14-year-old mess of "don't care" and "I want that."
6) A few years later I was on teevee. Well, it was only as a phone call taker on the public stations fund drive thingie, but at least ONE cameraman liked me because it was MY face that was plastered all over the breaks. Oh, I pretended to be all self-deprecating, but inside I was all "woohoo!!! Look at me!" Once again, a living oxymoron.
7) Shoes and me have only a passing acquaintance. Wear them when I have to, take them off whenever I can. Including at work. My normal working position is slouched down in one chair, both feet up on another chair in front of me, shoes off. It's a darned good thing I have an office with a door that closes.
8) Sadly, as of next week, I won't have an office. No door at all. I am not sure what to think about this, except that at the first chance I get I'm going to start begging for one. I love having an office. I do NOT want to work in a cubicle. this is the worst part about this new job. If anyone FROM my new job reads this, please take note of my strong desire for an office. It's STRONG, y'all. I've had an office for the last ten years, and have gotten very very used to it. It's better for everyone if I have one. The shoe thing is just one reason.
So, um....how's that? Is that enough? Have I said any of that before? Do I now seem like a conflicted mess of human wreck, what with the conflicted emotions and sloppy work habits and utter laziness?
Well, too bad. That's part of the charm of me. Heh.
I'm supposed to tag other people for this, but as sure as I know I've got ten toes I'm also sure that none of y'all are thronging around the ropes of my personal battle space waiting to be part of my tag team. Nope, this is a personal cage match, no seconds allowed.
But, if you WANT to play along, I can't stop you. Nor would I want to. Just build your own cage and have at it.