I’m an intensely private, almost reclusive person. The fact that the readership on this blog is so miniscule proves it. Attention-seeker? Oh no, not I. So it is with great reluctance that I submit to the kind of public display that Lex is requiring me to make of myself (Damn you for tagging me, Lex!)
1. When I was a ‘tween, I worked for two weeks delivering advertising flyers. The route was large and the bag was heavy. I started with good intentions but rapidly tired of the work and started stuffing two and three of the same flyers in every box to get through it faster. I always felt bad about that, but now that my eyes have been opened to the excessive barrage of advertising we see daily, I’m at peace with my youthful choices.
2. A few years before that, I nailed a kid in the mouth with a golf club…I believe it was a 3 wood. Obviously it wasn’t on purpose. We were at someone’s house beating around wiffle balls and I took my turn. It was really his fault for standing too close behind me, and I connected pretty firmly on the backswing. I ran home, afraid that I’d get in trouble from his parents, but I never heard any more of it. In fact, I don’t think I ever saw that kid again. Hope I didn’t kill him.
3. While playing in the woods on the grounds of the local golf course, I and a friend stumbled on a stash of tranny porn magazines. Most confusing publication I’d ever seen in my life.
4. I’ve tried many times to read One Hundred Years of Solitude. It’s supposed to be this wonderful piece of literature, but I find it dreadfully boring. I managed to get through the first 100 pages (of solitude) but I think it’s beyond me to finish it. Maybe I’ll try an audio-book version some day.
5. Socially, I don’t remember my university years at all. I’m no longer in contact with anyone I met while at Carleton. I must have had friends then, but I don’t recall any of them. I’m not sure if I should worry about Alzheimer’s or if I just did nothing noteworthy during those years. Once, after university, I was at a local pub with my friends and someone came up to me and said hi. She tried to remind me where I knew her from – journalism classes – but I stared at her blankly and said “I’m sorry, but I just don’t remember you.” I'm such a prick.
6. I find it much easier to remember men’s faces than women’s; which might be why I didn’t remember that girl from school. Either way, I’m hopeless when it comes to remembering names – male or female.
7. While I work for one, I don’t give any money to charity (with the occasional exception of the Carleton radio station because I have a friend who deejays there). I’m such a cheapskate, but what the hell. I’m house-poor.
8. I zone out as soon as anyone starts talking financial information. Makes it really hard to plan for my future, but it’s involuntary. I have to draw on all my willpower to concentrate on doing taxes or learning about RRSPs. I’m hopeless, which is why we’re hiring a financial advisor – to make sure we’re on track for a decent retirement before the age of 80.
There. If you didn’t know me before, you do now. Eight things, Jeez. Why don’t I just write an autobiography? 😛
All our readers have been tagged already, but misery loves company, and I choose to emphasize the previously placed calls to action on MTinto and Melvin. Oh, and why not tag phelisque while I’m at it?