Before I went on my mini blogcation, I threw a challenge out there to all of you, to come up with some words that I would have to weave into a statement about myself. I asked you to offer up obscure words that would challenge me a little bit. I must say, you came through. Still, I managed to put most of your oddball words into a personal context. All of what you are about to read is completely true.
No one would ever describe my voice as mellifluous. I have a harsh New York accent that makes me sound like I stepped out of the 1980's movie "Working Girl". Luckily I don't wear my hair like they did or I never would have gotten a job.
Our family went to a lot of air shows when I was young. My father has his private pilot's license and has always been obsessed with anything that flies. One year, we went to a fly-in in Oshkosh Wisconsin. As we were enjoying a lovely day watching planes, copters and dirigibles, a horrible thing happened. One of the Blue Angels crash landed right in front of us. Throughout my life, I have had nightmares of flaming planes falling out of the sky in times of stress. This could be what I am reliving.
I am a recreant hairdresser. I started my career cutting hair and even ran my own salon for a couple of years, but I found the daily process of that kind of close contact with people to be extremely draining. I felt like everyone thought they had a license to unburden their problems on me and it took a toll. I also did not have any health benefits, so I bailed on the career and joined the corporate workforce. It turned out to be the right decision for me.
When I first started working in banking, I tried to get my friends to join me so that the big corporate world wouldn't be quite so big and scary. One of my stranger recruits was my friend Ricky. He had an uncontrollable compulsion to look at other men's equipment in the men's room. It was like he couldn't stop himself. He had to compare and contrast. And while I did not need or want to know which of my work colleagues had an anaconda or dickfur, thanks to Ricky, I found out.
Ever since the movie Boogie Nights came out, I have loved Philip Seymour Hoffman. I find him to be the most versatile and amazing actor and he seems to choose his roles with great care. So, I was a little chagrined when the movie "Along Came Polly" came out and I found out that he was in it. I was fully prepared for the movie to be a total shitburger and for him to fall off the acting pedestal that I had placed him on. Wrong again DG! He was hilarious. As a matter of fact, I think he stole the movie AND he introduced me to the word "shart", which makes me laugh every time I hear it. Never gets old.
When I was a kid, my favorite crayon was the magenta crayon in the Crayola 64 box. The problem is that it did not hold up over time. When I would use it in a coloring book, it would eventually bleed and it would end up looking like a fuschia colored grease stain.
When I was in forth grade, we went to Washington DC for a family vacation. It was a tumultuous time in the nation's capitol, as we were deep in the throes of the Watergate scandal. I remember seeing protesters in front of the White House, but not really grasping what was going on. Shortly after we returned from that trip, Nixon resigned and Gerald Ford assumed his post as President of the United States, pardoning Nixon shortly after.
When I grew up, parents still believed in the arcane notion that if you spare the rod, you spoil the child. On any given day, the sound of spankings resonated from most of the homes on the block. We lived, but I doubt many of us have carried the practice forward.
I hate drama so I avoid office politics and gossip like the plague. This has a positive and negative result. On the plus side, I don't have any negative interactions with anyone. On the minus side, I am out of the loop and often get blindsided by things that I could have prepared myself for by getting clued into office gossip.
When I was in Jr High School, I used to have to walk way down to the far end of the block to get to the bus stop. About three houses before the bus stop, there was a house where a middle aged woman cared for her alcoholic, shellshocked, WWII veteran father. Every now and then he'd escape her watchful eye and he would stand at the front door in his bathrobe and juggle his doodlesack. We knew he was mentally ill, but it was still pretty horrifying. Luckily, he was too much of a wetbrain to operate the door and come outside on the lawn to do his juggling act.
When I was in Jr High School I had the most unfeminine collection of female teachers. I swear they were all just biding their time waiting for their gender reassignment surgery.
When I was a kid, certain cold cuts used to wig me out. I used to stand at the deli counter while my mother was ordering and ponder the stranger offerings. I can remember staring at the Ham Loaf, Olive Loaf, Tongue, Head Cheese and the pickled pig's feet in the case. I used to glare at people if they ordered any of these mystery meats, trying to figure out what was wrong with them that they would consider eating these horrifying foodstuffs.
I am not really one for drug use (I don't judge, I just prefer not to dabble) . Part of the reason is that street drugs are just way too uncontrolled for a germophobe like me. Knowing that it is possible that your marijuana was smuggled in someone's asscrack is a major deterrent. If that person did not give a courtesy wipe to correct his swamp ass before smuggling, then that is going to be some skunky smoke. I wouldn't risk smoking someone's funky ass-sweat. Whatever keeps you on the straight and narrow. . .
Our house is not a peaceful and quiet one. On any visit, you could arrive to a cacophony of barking dogs, my son's band, the kids fighting, the blender whirring up frosty drinks, the TV blaring, the phone ringing off the hook, etc. This is not where you come for a tranquil, meditative visit, but it's a great place to party.
Some of my son's friends are starting to have girlfriends. I dread the day that one of them brings one of their bimbos to band practice and puts their basorexia on display. I know the day is coming, I will have to eat lightly until then so there isn't that much to throw up in my mouth.
Backfat. It's the main reason I don't do sleeveless.
When my brother was a little kid, he had some very strange eating habits. When my mother would set the table for dinner, he used to steal hunks of eat butter and margarine and eat them. Then at dinner, he would take the salt shaker and turn it upside down on top of his steak, making little white piles of salt. I always threatened to install a salt lick at his seat.
I know that this post wasn't very titillating, but it was all true. Thanks to all the lovely bloggers that contributed words to my post. Please visit them and commend them on their vocabularies.
Shart - Anonymous
Saltlick – Sarah Lindahl