In accordance with the most ancient and hallowed Rules of the Internet (no doubt this is just what DARPA was thinking of in 1969), and at the behest of Kim, I herewith post seven random and little-known facts about myself.
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There is a smiley face tattooed on my left shoulder.
I once took Valium prescribed to a dog -- not even my own dog -- to quell an anxiety attack.
Hair grows from my ears lately. It's hard to find a barber who will take care of it without being asked. It's one of those barber skills that just doesn't make it to the front window of the shop, and you can't just wander in and inquire because that's not how it's done.
In 1974 my parents rushed us home from camping upstate in order to watch Nixon resign. I was five, but I knew deep in my heart we would never have such a bad president again.
^ I was wrong. <-- That's a freebie.
All of my fingers bear at least one scar. Because I'm clumsy.
I was a Boy Scout for six years and learned only one knot.
My second cousin was passing out small plates of mince pie at Christmas when I was about six, and, overburdened, put a slice down on the mince-colored couch. I sat on it seconds later in my nice slacks -- a word I had learned that very morning -- and my! the hilarity when we finally found out where my cousin had put that pie. I find the word slacks embarrassing to this day.
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And in accordance with said rules, let's hear it from WCS, Viaggiatore, and Jayne.
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9 comments:
Hold on a second here. My DOG can get prescribed Valium and I can't? Oh the injustice.
I, too, hate the word slacks. Why can't we just get with the british on this one and call them trousers?
Ok, give me a few days. Or I'll make mincemeat out of you.
Very cool list. Way more obscure than I was able to come up with.
Thanks for playing.
Kim
I am not a big fan of the word slacks either. We also had a mince-colored couch. Mince must have been the new black in 1975.
Wow Bill, I didn't know *any* of those things about you! --TB
What's worse than "slacks" is "pant". Without the "s", to mean a pair of pants.
Valium is valium.
About the ear hair, I would tell you that that's your wife's job, except that I would KILL my husband if he asked me to address his ear hair.
I am not saying I have ear hair. And I am not saying I don't. But - don't have ear hair because of: http://www.sharperimage.com/us/en/catalog/product/sku__SI679COB
There is a tattoo of cookie monster on my stomach. The mouth is right where my belly button is.
I once took 3 horse tranquillizers to calm down my pet cat, "Skeeter."
I have successfully grown a 5-inch nose hair, but have concealed it by blending it into my beard.
My dad once rushed us home from camping upstate in order to watch Nova.
All of my childhood memories bear at least one permanent scar.
I was a girl scout for 2 years in order to do research for a new comedy spec script I was working on called, "Girl Scouting."
My aunt Martha made me wear a pair pants made out of mince pie on Thanksgiving when I was about seven. Hilarity ensued when I sat on my uncle Bob's new tan slacks. (My uncle Bob would often remove his slacks before cooking his infamous "Giblet Surprise.")
I didn't read your list until after I had posted mine, but the boy scout/girl scout connection is scary. I also did not learn any knots, but I did learn how to make a stove out of a coffee can, sticks and matches.
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