So I got "tagged" with another "meme" by two "bastards", Dr Criddle and Squish, wherein:
1. First, those tagged must explain the rules, as I am currently doing.
2. Secondly, share no more or less than eight facts about yourself.
3. Thirdedly, tag eight of your unsuspecting blogger friends, who are thereby contractually bound by law to do the same. If you do not comply, you will be fed to the crocodiles.
Normally I avoid these meme things as if they're walking Ebola pies- not to mention that I keep Final Girl pretty personal-life free, but today I'm feeling a curious combination of laziness and magnanimity, so why the eff not? Besides, it's nice that people want to know eight things about me (thanks, ya bastards). Let's see if I'll have any readers left after revealing these Fantastamazing Eight Facts.
1. One of my rock star dreams (don't we all have at least one?) is to be the woman who sings back up on Black Oak Arkansas's's's's "Jim Dandy". I have no idea what she looks like for real, but in my dreams she's a total skank who does nothing but chain smoke, chug Wild Turkey, and sing "Jim Dandy" in cut off jean-shorts and some tassled t-shirt.
UPDATE: Oh. My. GAWD. Awesome reader pal Theron tracked down a picture of this woman and...well, see for yourself how close I was in my assessment. Call me Nostramuthafuckingdamus! Ladies and gentlemen...Ruby Starr!
2. When I was in 1st grade, my class took a field trip to the beach. I was collecting rocks and shells and stuff, and I found this one amazingly cool-looking rock that I was sure was a moon rock or a miniature meteorite or something- I couldn't wait to show my parents! When I got home and pulled the moon rock out of the bag, my mom said "That's an old peach pit! It's garbage! Throw it away!" Thankfully my child-like innocence recovered quickly.
3. I have this weird phobia thing about wet, loose hair- and I had it even before J-Horror hit it big. It's just gross, especially if it's not mine. Let's put it this way: should I ever be summoned to Room 101 of the Ministry of Love, there'll be some sort of device awaiting me that holds the contents of Kenny G's shower drain.
4. I don't know why, but when I get really happy/excited about something, I tend to cry...not like wailing and pulling my hair, but...you know. I shed a tear or two. Still, it can be embarrassing, like the time I cried when I went to the circus.
When I was 30.
5. When I worked at Large Chain Bookstore in NYC, I was bookseller to the stahs, dahling! I sold fondue cookbooks to Heather Locklear, VC Andrews books to Sarah McLachlan, and I helped Sigourney Weaver pick out some fiction for a friend. The only person I actually said "Hey, I like your work" to, however, was Amanda Plummer. Oh, and this one time, I answered the phone and the person said "Hi, who's this?" and I replied "This is Large Chain Bookstore."...she said "I know, I mean, who's speaking?". I totally hated giving my name out to customers, and so for some reason I blurted out "This is Juice".
6. Someone should nominate me for What Not to Wear because my wardrobe is in a sad, sad state at the moment- when I moved recently, I only took enough clothes to fill a single large suitcase. It was an amazing show of control and prowess at the time, but now I have no clothes and I'm too poor to buy nice new things. And I don't know how to dress myself. I mean, I understand the concept of dressing myself, like, I'm not walking around with pants on my head wondering why everyone is looking at me all funny. I mean, I'm not sure exactly what I want to wear. Another reason to nominate me is that I think Stacy London is the shit.
Not that I watch TV.
7. Despite (or because of, maybe) my life-long penchant for watching horror movies, I have led quite a nightmare-free life. I remember, when I was maybe 2 or 3, walking past a movie theatre advertising It's Alive. The image on the poster scared me so badly that I could hardly sleep that night and when I did drift off, I had bad dreams. And once when I was in college, I dreamed that a homicidal midget dressed up like Where's Waldo? was chasing me around campus with murderous intent. But those are the only nightmares I remember at all.
8. I can juggle, 3 items max. I'm self-taught! It's not as handy a skill as you might think, however.
Whew. I'm glad that's over with. I know I'm supposed to "tag" some more people, but...crocodiles be damned, this meme- much like the cheese- dies alone.
Wait, the cheese only stood alone. Meh, whatevs.
Don't you feel so much closer to me now?