It’s been over a year since I’ve been doing these random blatherings and I have to admit that I don’t think you know me very well. I’m sure that some of you are probably thinking you know me all TOO well, but I don’t believe that. You may know that I like blue people, hate Wegmans, love sweet tea and all of that. However, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten down to the true nitty and the true gritty for you. So with that, I’ll allow you a perilous glimpse into my psyche. I give you with only but a small amount of trepidation ‘Five Things You Didn’t Know About Me”.
I have not, will not, have not under a tree, will not sipping sweet tea, ever, EVER wear sandals. Are my toes ugly? Dunno. Couldn’t tell you. They’re toes. Small meaty appendages stuck on the end of the farthest piece of my body from my eyes. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s all they are. They don’t sweat that I know of. So why do people feel a need to slip on a sandal? To feel the soft refreshment of a sharp-edged piece of leather forging itself BETWEEN their toes? To make their toes stand out and look better? To allow their feet to slide all willy-nilly all over the shoe? I don’t get it one little bit. I prefer to have my whole foot protected from the elements.
To be clear, it doesn’t ANNOY me that people wear sandals – I just don’t understand why anyone ever would. And I won’t. There’s a clear difference there. Next thing you didn’t know about me:
That’s right – I have the best family in the entire world. Why? Because fortunately or unfortunately, they seem to get (or at least tolerate) my sense of humor. Case in point – our discussion at the dinner table last week. The topic? What if Hitler had a Facebook account. How great of a topic is that? I believe it was my sarcastically-tinged son who said “I’m thinking Hitler would be playing Farmville all the time…. using it as training to invade Norway”. Utterly brilliant, right? With that kind of thinking he’ll have a blog of his own in no time.
Next tidbit of goodness:
EATING A COOKIE WITH NO HANDS
That sounds easy, right? Just shove the stupid thing in your mouth and chew. How hard can that be? But I have the ability to carry on a normal (well, as normal as I get) conversation while eating an entire cookie. Nimbly holding the uneaten portion in my lips while chewing the rest and carrying on a conversation – while carrying a tray full of dirty dishes somewhere. Then, when Phase 1 of cookie eating (swallowing) has proceeded to a normal conclusion (swallowing), then Phase 2 (biting) can commence – all without missing a beat or using any appendages other than my lips to manipulate the cookie deeper into my mouth. That is one of my gifts that I’m proudest of. The multi-tasking capabilities are endless and will be expounded on in future written words.
That’s good, but here’s another:
I’M IN LOVE WITH CHRISTINA PERRI
Apparently. Do I like her? Yes. Do I love her? I guess I do according to my wonderful children. It was my daughter who noted that in my iTunes account I have apparently listened to “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri 573 times in the last year. That’s about 1.75 times per day. Every single day. The next closest song was played 20 times. So deducing from that I must love her. Or that song. Or maybe even Twilight. Honesty time – I didn’t listen that many times, the iTunes counter is screwed up. But now every time I mention her name or her songs come on the radio or iPod I feel ashamed and small. And it provides constant dinner table fodder when the Hitler/Facebook talk runs down (IF EVER!).
Finally, for you alcoholics out there (and you know who you are):
I CAN TASTE NO DIFFERENCE IN WINES OR BEERS
That’s right – I’m completely liquor-agnostic. You throw a white chardonnay zinfandel up against a red merlotal horticulturist and I can taste absolutely no difference. I may make a distinguished face and sip and sniff and swirl – but it’s all a show. It all tastes exactly the same and frankly, it’s all OK. Not great. Not amazing. Not fantastic. Just OK. Same goes for beer. Cost Cutter Lite from Kroger tastes the same as a Heineken and nothing you can say to me will change my opinion. It’s all the same. Again, it doesn’t bother me that some people think they CAN tell a difference – I’m just being honest when I tell you that there’s absolutely no difference at all. I’d be surprised if all the beer in the world doesn’t come out of one big vat sitting in a small town in Germany somewhere. Those clever folks pop it into different bottles and suddenly you’ve created an industry.
So that’s a glimpse into my life. I’ll now go slip into my sneakers, drink my sweet tea, listen to the vocal stylings of one Miss Christina Perri and dream about what Hitler would say in 140 characters or less if he had a Twitter account.