Category: Meme

Today is the day. You will finally understand what you have suspected all along: that I am, in fact, not a person, but a trained seal. Offer me a meme, and I bark on cue. For free! I have Mark to thank for this one. Mark over at Mark Base – Helsingblog. He who runs an interesting series of posts on pub toilets. Yes. I know. But he does have quite the way with words and has an interesting spin on the “8 Random Facts” meme. He’s put out a challenge to choose those who are perched in our “Friends” categories, but who we may not frequent or comment on much…How does that happen?  Too many blogs, too little time?  Fickleness?  Attention Deficit Disorder?

Rules:

• Post the rules before you cough up more exciting gossip about yourself give your facts
• List eight (8), not 7 or 9 or 19 like I have done before
  
• At the end of your post, sucker punch unsuspecting and innocent bystanders unfortunate enough to be in your “friends” category choose (tag) eight people and list their names (linking to them) which takes freaking forever.
• Leave them a comment on their blog letting them know they’ve been hornswaggled and then bamboozled tagged.

Yes! More excruciatingly droll information about me that you may not have known because it isn’t buried in my archives. And yes, I’m tagging today, so look for your name at the bottom of my drivel, then count yourself as one of my anointed “friends.” I hereby solemnly swear that I will stop by your blog more than I do, which sadly, isn’t very much. And for that I am wholeheartedly sorry. I know it’s worthy of my time, but in my addled state, I meander around the web and get lost, never to return, but happy that I’ve collected a few new bright, shiny things along the way.

Now let’s proceed, randomly:

1. It’s official: UCSD and Harvard have announced that “Obesity is ‘Socially Contagious.’” I’m a heifer because of my friends. It’s all their fault. Well, not all of them. Just the other heifers. Listen carefully and you will hear us lowing in the meadow while we chew the grass. We do have skinny friends who have resisted our evil influence, however. Uh…one. I’m thinking of challenging the study’s findings, questioning the impact a particular profession can have on an individual — especially when colleagues are also friends. But hey! Good news: the study has proven that fatness and thinness are both contagious. That means if I make a concerted effort to rub elbows with those less than gifted in the adipose department, I’ll drop some lubs.
2. I do not have a gazebo. I know this comes as a shocker, but it’s true. Nor a pergola, a belvedere, or summerhouse. I used to have a sort of shed, though, on the property of our old house. My oldest son built it when he was fifteen to have a space away from The Rest of the Family. It didn’t work, because we’d all go out there to bother him. He used to sleep in it occasionally, even though he neglected to build it large enough to stretch out in. Dreams of it rolling down the bank it was perched on stopped him from spending the night there. When I last drove by our old house, I saw the shed still standing, nicely painted, and glad that the new owners were taking care of it.
3. I routinely have to suppress the urge to label all my closets. There’s just something about the notion of having little stickers beneath sweaters and shoes I no longer have to wear or want to wear that say, “Black Pumps,” or “Black Sandals” or “Black Loafers.” The urge lasts about 2 seconds, and then I snap out of it. I have purchased a label maker, and now realize that others have this same disturbing tendency.
4. Less than two hours after posting an ad on craigslist yesterday for a free BBQ, the old black grease behemoth was gone. Bah-dah-bing. I even helped the guy hoist it into his truck. After nearly five years of living in this pseudo hoity Gated Reach Out and Touch your Neighbor McHood where we are not allowed to put our trash cans out before a certain time on trash day — let alone park things on the curb — I have discovered the free section of craigslist. So now you know that I not only recycle, but I’m a bit slow on the uptake.
5. I don’t really get jokes. Or comics. Or the “funnies.” If laughter is the way we’re supposed to measure whether jokes and comics are humorous, then there’s something wrong with me. On the rare occasion that I laugh at a joke, I promise that I will commit it to memory, and tell it to a group of people who will howl with laughter. But I can’t. Not only can I not tell it, I don’t even remember the whole joke. The only joke I will even attempt to tell is one that the MoH rescues me from every time he hears me try to tell it. The one about the man who goes into a bar with a monkey that ends up eating a cue ball…
6. I love to watch people. They’re interesting in all their individual glory. The entitled folk get me going once in a while, but for the most part, I don’t get too worked up over the others. Okay. So, occasionally when they’re completely obnoxious. Arrogant. Single-minded. Loud-mouthed. Entitled. Jerks. Entitlement doesn’t necessarily equate with being “moneyed.” Therefore, a woman in Target (men don’t do this) who leaves her cart in the middle of the aisle while she is 10 feet away blathering loudly on her cell about her latest Brazilian wax job while trying to decide which celebrity gossip magazine to purchase can be equally as annoying as the person in the Jag who is sitting in the middle of the street waiting for someone to vacate his parking place. Someone who isn’t yet at his car door. Isn’t even walking in the direction of his car. Both types fascinate me with their complete and utter self-absorption.
7. I’d like to not notice that people use it’s when its is correct. Or their instead of they’re. And affect when effect is the accurate word. And use then instead of than. No lesson is coming, but allow me to introduce the best little book ever published — The Elements of Style. Yes, we all have fun torturing the English language with our blogs. For me, it’s a large part of my enjoyment. But knowing which word to use, or more importantly, how to spell it is not the same thing. I know. I’m a bitch.
8. I love words. I especially love it when others over use them, such as in this book review of Breaking the Rules. The reviewer pulls out all the stops AND his thesaurus to try an impress with phrases such as “malleable and amorphous body of generalizations,” “copious research and data compilation comprise compelling evidence that lends credence…” Or slings around words such as iconoclasm, dictum, morass, execrable, and quagmire. But I have never heard or read the word foredoom. Why would anyone choose to use it and expect to be taken seriously?

Now for my “friends.” Aren’t you sorry you clicked that button at Blog Catalog or My Blog Log? Blame it on Mark, though. It’s his fault. But I did enjoy visiting your blogs today, reading your writing, smiling at your memories, and admiring what you’ve done with your blogs. I’ll try and be a better “friend.”

WRITING TRUE

Word Strumpet

“Sleeping Kitten – Dancing Dog!”

Finding Flabuless

Life 2.0

I Eat Snowman Poop

Goodness Graciousness

the rogue professor’s blog

I haven’t put a message on your blogs yet. Sorry. You can Un-Friend me if you’d like. That will serve me right.