I’m thinking of making these a regular Friday feature. I suck at thinking of things to post on Fridays.
I’m not sure I’m still capable of parallel parking.
I used to always drive around the block whenever possible, it’s been ages since I’ve actually done it (I actually don’t drive that much), and I’m not sure I was ever all that capable of doing it in the first place, since I failed that part of my driver’s test.
I’ve been attempting to be more of a joiner, which means that I have to fill out all these dumb bio pages. Which reminded me to do another of these!
The last time I was grounded was when I was 18, and it was for staying out all night.
I’m the oldest, so my parents were still trying to figure out how to deal with a so-called “adult” living in their house. The grounding didn’t go well, and I was never grounded again. Plus, I moved out.
I’ve been trying to gear up to write something real, but I’m just not able to pull it off today. So an old style post will have to do.
I have been tied up.
More than once. A guy in my college dorm hog tied me once, though I don’t remember why. I may have dared him. I’ve also tied other people up.
I can’t say that I normally remember my dreams. I don’t. Every once in awhile I’ll remember a dream I had right when I wake up, only to forget all about it later in the day. In order to remember the dreams I have I would have to keep a notebook next to my bed and write them down as soon as I wake up, but I don’t. I won’t.
As a kid I had a recurring nightmare that I occasionally still have to this day. It takes place when I was about five years old, before my youngest two brothers were born. My parents, myself, and one of my brothers (who would have been about three at the time) are walking through a parking lot up to a grocery store. The grocery store is two stories (that’s important), and has an awning over the doors. Under the awning are big carts and bins full of fruits and vegetables for sale. As we approach the front door, there are two men standing near one of the vegetable carts arguing quite loudly. One of them looks like a human version of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. We walk right past them and into the grocery store.
At some point during our shopping we go to the upper level of the store, when suddenly there is a loud creaking sound, and the roof is lifted off of the building (rather like the appearance of the Ghost of Christmas Present in Mickey’s Christmas Carol), and there is the Swedish Chef man again, only now he is several stories tall and very scary looking. Everyone around is in the store is screaming. Suddenly the Swedish Chef man reaches down and picks up my Mother. He eats her. I’m horrified. Then he picks up my Dad. He eats him too. I’m too scared to run. He reaches down, and picks up my little brother by the scruff of his neck and opens his mouth to eat him.
“NO,” I yell, “Don’t eat him!” I’m sobbing uncontrollably. “Take me instead!”
The Swedish Chef man drops my little brother into the breast pocket of his shirt. The poor boy is peering over the top of the pocket in tears as the Swedish Chef man reaches toward me. I close my eyes. I wake up.
I’ve had this dream on a fairly regular basis for years. Nothing in it ever changes. I never age in this dream. I have no idea what it means, but it scares the crap out of me every time.
I can’t say that I’ve ever thought of my life as particularly exciting. I’m pretty much a homebody, and varying levels of anxiety tend to keep me from taking many social risks. To be honest, I think that’s how a lot of us feel, isn’t it? We limit our level of risk, work to get by, spend the majority of our lives eating and sleeping. That said, I also know that everyone’s life has a bit of excitement in it. When I used to work in retail, I would tell my coworkers stories about my life and my family, and they would always laugh and say things like “those type of things never happen to me”, or “your life is full of characters!”. After hearing that over and over, I started to believe that most people don’t look closely enough at their every day lives. Sure, my story might be funny and seem unbelievable, but the same thing could have happened to you yesterday, and you might have neglected to take notice of it. This post is about affirming my belief that there is no true “normal”, and that each of us should take a step back once in awhile and recognize what makes us different. Here are six things that make me unique:
I’m sure I could think of more if I sat down and racked my brain a little harder. What six things make you unique?
I can’t seem to organize my thoughts well enough today to write about something real. Instead you get to find out that:
My favorite flavor of Pringles is Sour Cream & Onion.
I used to be Original flavor all the way, but now that I’ve cut way back on the amount of sodium in my diet I find them to be too salty. Go figure.
Even though I have a list of real posts to write, my writing time has been severely limited lately, so yes, I am resorting to one of these instead. You know you like it.
My belly button is an innie.
I know you wanted to know that. I actually can’t think of a single adult I know with an outie. I babysat a couple of kids with outies, but I know at least one of them had surgery to make it an innie when they were older. Weird.
It’s been a little while since I’ve done one of these, since I’ve had real things to post. I know you’ve been chomping at the bit for a new one!
I can wiggle my nose up and down like a bunny rabbit without moving any other part of my face. I can also wiggle it side to side like on Bewitched.
I’ve been fascinating people with this talent for years. Due to the broken cartilage in my nose, my wiggling is much more pronounced than the average person’s.
Starting out the new year right with facts you probably don’t even want to know about me.
I have never been known to hover over the toilet seat in a public restroom.
What the heck is everyone so afraid of catching on a toilet seat? Don’t you shower regularly? Stop being so paranoid people.
Welcome back! This is fun, isn’t it? Why would I tell you normal things like my favorite movies when I could tell you that:
When I take a shower, the first thing I wash is my left shoulder.
No idea why. I think it’s probably because I’m right handed, so that hand is holding the soap, and I work top down or something. I always do my face last. That sort of thing is so strange to think about.
Happiness is Now 