Most summer nights you could find me crouching in the upper branches of an overgrown Magnolia tree. It was always dark (typically night-ish!) and I was always confused and blankly staring at something like a leaf or air or maybe even some bark (typically… just, typical). An hour or so would pass and I would inevitably begin whining something like “Yuh‘allllll. Guys? Y’all guys? Hey? Hey y’all guyyyyysssss? I have to peeeee. Y’alllll. Peee. Guyssss?”. Eventually some of the neighbor boys would wander my way (led by my sweet, Tennessee siren song, no doubt). They always looked as peeved as I was confused. This was a lot. As we trekked past hay bails and through itchy field the sweaty bunch of playfellows would remind me of my objective. “We’re playing Red Light/ Green Light, dummy. We’re still in the Cassman’s yard right where we started….you’d be too if you hadn’t a run off like a weirdo.” My consistent mixing up of games both shocked and shamed me. Someone announced Tag and I would stand stark still in the middle of the open field, shoulders shrugging and mouth all stupid and agape. After a while I’d get real worried that I wasn’t playing right and feel such a blissful relief when one of those boys would come running from out of nowhere to my rescue. So stoked, I was, that this kind player thought to stop by and tell me what the hell I was supposed to be doing. Really grateful, I was, until the solo son ran past me, stopping only long enough to punch my arm and holler “You’re IT!”. Shit. I knew this was no game of Quiet Mouse. For Hide & Seek I often got confused and tried to slap and tag competitors as they crept to alternative hiding spaces. I’d spring to my feet and give a celebratory clap that I’d managed to catch them all so easily. Their angry faces were shielded by shrubbery, but from all the juvenile whisper-screaming I pretty much got the hint: “No! Ugh, Gawwwd, Turd! We’re all hiding, Turd. You’re not even s’posed to be seeking, Turd. Ugh!”. So apparently I wasn’t the winner, and the being the communal Turd was not as awesome as it sounds.
On and on this debacle raged until we were close to teens and old enough to do respectable stuff (like mall loitering or running up phone bills or sneaking into R-rated flicks only to re-sneak into the Disney cartoon one door over because, despite wanting to look really mature, my virgin eyes couldn’t handle all the rose petals and topless Kevin Spacey and innocent blonde girl floating on the ceiling).
Not much as changed in this little life of mine. A naked Kevin Spacey still sounds like a nightmare, I still answer to Turd, and I the only thing I know at any given moment is that I have no clue what’s going on. Last week when the injured tennizzle from I Can’t High Five (that counts as a disability, right?) and the soon-to-wed Amber from The Usual Bliss asked me to play, I immediately looked for a tree to get stuck and a neighbor boy to point this Turd in the right direction. The best I could do was read and re-read their posts (one a friendly game of Blog Tag, the other a flattering Sunshine Blogger Award) and remind myself that no one, no one, was asking me to ruin everything. True to form, I forgot the rules while reading the rules and settled with winging it. This, friends, is the blog post equivalent to me begging for a pee break from high atop a that tree.
First I must answer eleven questions. I think this is accurate, although playing Duck,Duck, Goose with my empty dining room chairs feels like it could also be a right choice.
- What’s one city in the world that you’ve always wanted to visit and why? Detroit. I don’t know. I just watched 8 Mile and I’d like to know what goes into making an Eminem. Also, Detroit boasts cars and metal and cars and short tempers and cars and other such attractions.
- What is your biggest fear? Devil wings, otherwise known as birds. I once returned home to find a deathly beast flapping all willy nilly across the ceiling. I immediately ordered my nine-months-pregnant sister to waddle over and kill it. I sat shaking and weeping on the front lawn. Armed with a broom and a forceful baby bump, my sister emerged some minutes later to tell me that the monster was gone, and that most people call that monster a baby robin.
- Have you ever seen a ghost? Yes! She was a frightful thing: icy pale with skeletal slits where plump eyeballs should sit. She reeked of lilac and the year 1827, and her decrepit joints popped like cheap plastic as she floated past. Perhaps most haunting was the ghost gal’s cackle, the booming and raspy laughter of an afterlife villain. Her name was Joan Rivers and I spotted her having lunch in the city several years ago. I hath seen the horror!
- What is your guilty pleasure? Dance parties by myself… just me, my funk, and I. Festive song choices like “Hollaback Girl” make the whole broad-hipped-mama-doing-the-worm thing a little less terrifying.
- If you could have any animal in the world as a pet, what animal would it be? There is this one animal that eats whole doors without swallowing, sets things aflame with poots, enjoys long runs around the Starbucks drive-thru, hates black children, and takes a daily dose of human anxiety medicine. She is my dog. So, to answer your question, I’d have to say any other animal.
- Are you a dog or a cat person? Seriously. I just told you about my dog. I’m a cat person now.
- If you could have one superpower, what would it be? I’d be able to turn water into wine. It wouldn’t save people so much as save me a trip to the store. What’s that? He turned water into wine and saved people? Jesus one up’s again.
- What’s your favourite song of all time? “Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio. It makes me want to cry, break the law, and dance all at the same time.
- When you were young, what did you plan to be when you grew up? I always wanted to be a mediocre blogger with unfortunately dark body hair and a bit of a lazy eye. Or a writer. This fueled most of the childhood rumors that I was a moustached middle-aged, pipe-smoking dude with a drinking problem. Even from a young age I liked words and didn’t mind being poor. Somethings are just meant to be.
- Chips and salad or roast potatoes and vegetables? I hope that was a typo. That whole sentence. I hope it is false. The best answer I can give you is “Bacon-wrapped anything or cake“.
- If you won a million dollars, what would you do/buy first? In all reality I would buy a bunch of cake, get a “chocolate wasted” as Beyoncé so eloquently puts it, pass out on my couch in a frosted food coma, and wake to find all those other bags of money stolen by beloved family and friends. This is pretty much also known as Average Tuesday except those bags of cash sound a lot more like pennies.
Now, according to rules I am most definitely not remembering correctly, I pick eleven bloggers and ask them to answer eleven more questions while tackling the offense, capturing the flag, and thumb wrestling. The vicious cycle of making new friends and learning great things about one another and sharing and all that awful caring continues!
Tag’N’Seek’N’Post or Something!
Darla @ She’s A Maineiac
Jim @ The Wordslinger
Crib Keeper @ Grouchy Muffin
Jocelyn @ The Home Tome
Peg @ Peg-O-Leg’s Ramblings
MJ @ MJ Monaghan
Jules @ Go Guilty Pleasures!p>
Ellie Ann @ Ellie Ann
Lisa @ Woman Wielding Words
Patricia @ Critters & Crayons
Joy @ El Blog de Joy
Questions for those tagged or otherwise sunshined (?):
1. Life is all about making David Letterman happy. What’s your most entertaining Stupid Human Trick?
2. What’s your most traumatic experience?
3. What one word best describes you?
4. Cake or Cake? (Note: Trick Question!)
5. If you were a celebrity and thus legally obligated to name your offspring something horrendous, what would your little bundle of publicity’s name be?
6. Who would win in a girly pop/dance/hair flip battle, Bieber or Beyoncé?
7. How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?
8. If given the opportunity to get away with it, who or what would you like to punch?
9. Desperate times call for weird measures. What strange career would you try to make that money, honey?
10. What’s one thing you can’t live without?
11. The most important question of all of ever and everything: Big Spoon or Little? Spork?
I feel good. Really, I feel like I’m almost starting to get the game. It only took a couple decades wandering aimlessly around hay bails to get here. While you players play on. I’ve got a day planned teaching my boy, Brillo Pad Velociraptor, the greatest American pastime…. Red Rover Tackle Patty Cake.