100 Things

1. I was born on September 18, 1966. In the Hamptons on Long Island.
2. I lived in Cocoa Beach, Florida for my first four years. My dad worked on the Apollo missions at Cape Kennedy.
3. I was reading and writing at three years of age. That’s right, I was a hot geek even then. By the time kindergarten rolled around they were reading Dr. Seuss’ ABC Book and I’m all, “Please, Dr. Seuss is so pedantic. He peaked at ‘Green Eggs & Ham.’”
4. I wore glasses from 18 months of age on. No shit. I have no idea how they measured a 1-1/2 year old’s eyesight, but so be it.
5. Speaking of eyes, I have a lazy eye. It moves on its own, especially when I’m not wearing my glasses. I hate it. It bothers me a bit looking at someone with a lazy eye…I mean, where the fuck am I supposed to look? Ridiculous, yes…I mean, I HAVE a lazy eye, hello? Anyway, that’s the long way of saying I always think people hate looking at my eyes. Because that lazy fucker will bug them.
6. In the Bizarre But Related category, because of #5 I can move either eye independently of the other. I can cross either eye while the other remains straight ahead. On purpose. What? That’s a useful skill! Totally freaked out the girls on the playground. Hell, it STILL freaks out the girls on the playground.
7. When I was 1-1/2, I used to dance in my diaper on the coffee table in my living room. My favorite song was “Sugar, Sugar” by The Archies. Cut the record off the back of a box of Alpha Bits cereal. Even then I was dancing in my underwear. God, I was ahead of my time.
8. I had five long years of orthodontic work. Braces. Retainers (lost 7 of them). Elastic bands. The fucking headgear. Which I had to wear in school. Yes, I was that kid. Poor little shit, I never had a chance.
9. I’m 5′7″ or 5′8″ depending on who measures me. Not tall, that’s the point.
10. I ate nothing but peanut butter and jelly (jam) sandwiches for lunch for years. YEARS. One time a babysitter tried to make me eat vegetable soup (blecch!) and I held out for hours. Give. Me. The. P. B. J. Bitch.
11. I like to play (and watch) poker. Specifically, Texas Holdem, which is by far the most popular game out there now. I don’t make any claims to how great I am. I’d say I’m probably in the middle of the pack, talent-wise. Not about to plunk down $10,000 to play in a Vegas tournament, though, that’s for sure. Thing is, if it wasn’t for the card cameras on TV that let you see the players’ hole cards, it would be as boring to watch as paint drying.
12. I don’t play any instruments. Except maybe for the kazoo. I took a year of clarinet in 6th grade, but hated it. More about why in a minute, but I was totally pissed that they wouldn’t let me play the trombone. Course, I was maybe 2′3″ at the time and had arms no longer than that of a Barbie doll, but still. The trombone is bad-ass! It’s got all those slidey-bits and things.
13. I suck at sports. Name the sport, I suck at it. For this reason, I hate sports. I used to have nightmares (still do) about having to go to physical education class in school every day…playing football, basketball, baseball, all those fucking things that I had no clue how to play. Never learned the rules of the sports because I hated them so much.
14. I am probably a big spoiled sport. I don’t like doing anything I’m not good at, or that I don’t have any inclination toward. It’s a horrible habit - if I can’t do something good right away, I pretty much quit and never try it again. Unless we’re talking about sex.
15. I have always had a rather warped sense of humor, from ever since I can remember. It’s gotten me in trouble many times, and I’m sure it will again. If anyone can stick his foot in his mouth, it’s me.
16. My official mental diagnoses: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), severe deppressive disorder, bipolar disorder, and enormous penis disorder. What? That’s mental…it’s totally in my head. So to speak.
17. I graduated high school in Alamogordo, New Mexico. Yes, I’m from New York, and I was pretty much raised there until I was 15. Then we moved to New Mexico, over Christmas break in school. Sucked. I hated it at first. Tiny little town of 35,000 people, not a freaking thing to do. Kind of like Sebring (where I live now), but much smaller and less exciting. Funny thing is, now I love the place. I miss the mountains.
18. I’m not particularly fond of change of any kind. Thus, moving schools in the midst of 10th grade was as close to a nightmare as I could get at that time. It took me a long time to make friends and I had to leave my NY buddies behind, only to freak out about finding NEW friends in Alamoghetto.
19. I am much more comfortable around a group of women than I am a group of men. I have less in common with the men, it seems. Don’t like sports, don’t give a shit about cars…what is there to talk about with guys? Hooters girls? That I can do. Most of my best friends are women (hello, Hilly) and it’s why (even though I’m socially phobic) I’d much rather face crowds at BlogHer than crowds at…um, BlogHim.
20. And yes, that’s right. I’m socially phobic, too. I know, it’s hard to believe because I’m so wild and crazy all over here, but it’s true. I fight to leave the house. Glad I fought my instincts to stay home last night, or I would have missed an awesome time with Bossy and everyone else. Some might call it “shy,” but it’s really an extreme thing at times. Much more advanced than merely shy. Makes me avoid all sorts of potential social settings. Suppose that makes it weird that I sing karaoke in front of people, but that’s another number altogether.
21. I will NOT be late to a movie. If I miss any of the film previews then I start getting a rather nasty twitch. Much easier to just leave and go to another movie or the next showing. I’m not kidding. The previews are the best part of the entire movie-going experience. You know, besides being anally raped at the concessions stand.
22. I do NOT share my drink with anyone, nor will I drink out of someone else’s glass (unless I get the first sip). It grosses me out, can’t do it. I can make out with you and do the Two-Tongue-Tango with no problem. Just don’t make me take a sip of your water. *shivering* OK, if you’re stranded in the middle of the desert and I happen to come across you and you’re dying of thirst, I’ll let you drink out of my water bottle. Um, no, that’s okay. You keep it now. Do I want a taste of your cake off of your spoon? Aw, that’s sweet. Thank you, but are you psychotic?
23. When eating cereal, I cannot take a bite without first going through the bowl with my spoon, submerging every single piece of cereal under the milk at least twice.
24. Something on me is always moving, usually my legs or my feet. Constantly shaking or tapping. It’s rather difficult for me to sit still. It annoys the crap out of me in those rare moments that I’m conscious of it. I don’t know what it is, there’s comfort in the movement or something. When I first heard of “restless leg syndrome” I thought “that’s me!” Because yeah, what I need is another fucking syndrome.
25. I’m such a perfectionist that it often feels better to me not to start something at all, rather than not do the job just right. This is why my bedroom is a disaster area. Total clutter. It’s not that I like it, I just don’t know where to begin. And I know I can’t do it all in a short amount of time, probably not even a day. So it’s better just to leave it.
26. It’s because of #25 that I’m a damn good editor. Don’t worry, though, I deliberately flip off my internal editor when I’m reading people’s blogs. For the most part. If there are 12 misspelled words per sentence, though? Yeah, I’m going to let you have it. I often have to fight myself to keep from rewriting people’s shit. Hell, I often have to fight myself to keep from rewriting MY shit.
27. I love chewing gum. My favorite is Stride because that flavor really does last an awfully long time. I cannot, however, chew only one piece at a time. In fact, I must chew three pieces at a time. That is the perfect amount of gum: three pieces. This leads to one disappointment per pack because each pack of Stride gum (and Orbitz) contains 14 pieces of gum. Not 15. 14. That means somewhere along the consumption of that pack I can only have two pieces of gum at one chewing. Yes, I think about these things. You don’t?
28. I swallow my gum. I never, ever spit it out. Shut up. I’ve been doing it for as long as I’ve been running and I’m just fine. It doesn’t just sit there in your intestines. It passes through your system. Listen, I chew it, it’s food, I swallow it.
29. I sing to the frog that is sitting out there on my sidewalk every night when I go outside to smoke. He likes it. His name is Freddie (in honor of the New Zoo Revue children’s program from when I was a wee tyke). He doesn’t ever really give me any constructive criticism. In fact, he rarely says a word to me now that I think of it. Perhaps he doesn’t like the singing, after all. Could just be hooked on the nicotine.
30. I talk in my sleep, sometimes with amazing enunciation, and often in foreign accents. No kidding. And it feels weird, when you talk in your sleep, almost like you’re talking through molasses. Yeah, I often dream where I have a really hard time getting the words out of my mouth. It’s because I’m literally forming those words in real life. I cannot be held responsible for anything coming out of my mouth when I’m unconscious. I’m probably confessing to all kinds of State secrets in my sleep.
31. I have a somewhat elastic voice and have always been able to do different characters and voices, including foreign accents. Bugs Bunny? You bet. Kermit the Frog? Got it down. But my girls’ favorite has always been “the baby voice.” It’s pretty much like Elmo, but when they were little girls, it cracked them up routinely. In fact, I had to do the baby voice a LOT, sometimes for hours. That’ll give the ol’ vocal chords a workout.
32. I’ve been writing for literally as long as I can remember. Crafting stories for just as long, I think. People often say that they can’t write worth shit, and yes, some of them are absolutely right. However, it’s like anything else. I think it’s best summed up thusly: it’s difficult to do something for decades and not master it.
33. I paint, too, but haven’t picked up a brush in over a year. I was looking over some of the 2HT archives earlier and seeing that much of the graphics - including pictures of my paintings - are gone. Which sucks because all those photos are on my old broken computer. Anyway, I really enjoy watercolors. Took a class a couple of years ago and got started with the brushes again…first time I’ve painted since high school. And THAT was quite some time ago.
34. I sing. Not professionally, of course, though I have made some money at it, thanks to the marvel that is karaoke. Won a few contests and even moonlighted as a karaoke host in Dallas for a while. It’s weird, because I’m a touch socially phobic (sometimes more than a touch), but I can get up and sing with no problem. Wasn’t always that way, of course. In the beginning, I was terrified. Thank God for beer and Jameson’s.
35. I’m pretty much self-taught in all things computerey. Most of it comes naturally to me now, but I’ve spent many an hour looking up online help, figuring things out, pushing buttons and clicking menus. I taught myself most every program I’ve ever used. I used to program my own web sites, using Notepad to handcode the HTML. Even though I CAN figure it out, I don’t want to any more. That’s why I hired the beautiful Karen to redesign this blog for me.
36. Because I’m self-taught in most computer stuff, I’ve often taught classes in various programs. Microsoft Word, Internet Explorer (ugh), etc. I’m pretty good at teaching, which is again weird to me since people kind of freak me out at times.
37. I know my 80’s music. Yes, I am a child of the 80’s. I graduated high school in 1984 and my personal theory is that we’re all fairly well-versed in any music that was big during our high school years. That’s because music is so key to us in those formative times. Plus, I was a radio DJ for 4 years during that time and so I know my shit. Now? Meh, not so much. I’m not into a lot of new stuff, although there’s plenty that I like.
38. I can draw, too. Fairly well, though I think it’s rather primitive sketching, at best. Mostly I love to doodle, but I used to draw cartoons and comic strips a lot. Comics are the best, I think, because you get to write the story AND draw it out. The ultimate in artistic expression as far as I’m concerned.
39. I probably have some innate musical gift, too, but I’ve never really explored that. I do know that I can rather easily sound out a tune on the piano, no music. I can’t read music, anyway. Does that count as another thing? Shit, guess not.
40. I have a built-in bullshit detector. I can smell it a mile away. If someone starts trying to feed me nothing but bullshit, I’m probably going to call them on it, even though I’m pretty much anti-confrontational most of the time.
41. I hate lima beans. I’ve eaten many of them over the years - pretty much forced to growing up. I’m convinced that succotash (a mixture of corn and lima beans) was invented by the World Lima Bean Council to trick people into eating the Devil’s Legume. I’m happy that I’m all growed up now so I can control my own lima bean destiny.
42. I hate grapefruit. They taste nasty and sour and I don’t know how anyone can stand them. Oddly enough, I like Fresca, which is a grapefruit soda. I can’t explain it. Similarly, when I was little I hated onions but loved onion rings. I suppose my Italian genes finally hit puberty because I totally dig onions these days.
43. I hate seafood. Yes, all of it. “But what about shrimp?” people ask me. Does shrimp come from the water? Yes, yes it does. Then I HATE it. I also hate when people hear about my disdain for seafood and say, “Well, that’s because you haven’t had it prepared the right way.” To them I say, “You’re a moron, but that’s because you haven’t used your brain the right way.”
44. I hate licorice. Absolutely revolting. I was forever ditching my black jellybeans every Easter - still do, on the odd occasion I eat jellybeans. Now they have to be sugar-free. And for some reason, they actually make sugar-free black jellybeans. Gross. And yes, that means I hate Uzo, too. And anisette. Anything that tastes like licorice will make me puke. Or want to puke, which is even worse.
45. I hate grits. Yes, I live in the South, but I’m not a Southerner. Grits are just blecch. I’ve tried them over and over again, thinking I’m missing something. I’m done trying them. I know that tastebuds can change over time, but my grits tastebuds just ain’t evolving. Never gonna happen.
46. I hate mean people. There’s just no cause for being nasty. Sure, I can be an asshole at times…I think everyone is capable of that. But for the most part I keep my Inner Asshole at bay. When I see someone treat a waiter or waitress poorly, I just cringe. A total babe turns flat-out repulsive to me if she’s a vindictive sniping little bitch. Have some fucking courtesy, respect, and understanding. They go a long way. And if you simply cannot control your mouth, perhaps you should stay in your cave and shut the fuck up.
47. I hate American Idol. It is absolutely shitty television. I don’t care if you like it, either. The only part even remotely worth watching is the audition process because those people are so bad it’s good. The rest of it? It’s like a bad karaoke competition.
48. I hate spiders. I hate most all bugs, actually, if they’re in my house. Bugs belong outside, not in. And I’m not one of those people that feels like you shouldn’t kill a living creature. They’re beneficial to the environment, etc. etc. Bullshit. If I see a spider outside, fine. But if there’s one in my house, that mutherfucker is going to die, probably ending up a stain on the wall.
49. I hate needles. I could never be a heroin addict because there’s no way I’d be injecting myself all the time. This is ironic since I’m a diabetic and just had to start taking insulin in September of 2007. Yes, I have to give myself shots every night before bed. Yes, I hate it and have to psych myself up before sticking myself in the gut, even though it doesn’t hurt.
50. I hate Dave Matthews. Not the person, I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice fellow. But I cannot STAND his singing voice. Irritates me more than nails dragging along a chalkboard. To me, he sounds like a cat whose tail is being intermittently pinched by a rocking chair rolling on top of it. I would sooner listen to Tiny Tim or even Britney Spears. I know, that’s saying a lot.

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