My good friend Jeff tagged me today to complete one of those “Seven Things You Didn’t Know About Me” memes that inevitably involves the revelation of either completely inappropriate or stunningly worthless knowledge about someone whom, up until reading their seven things, you considered a friend. And now you just don’t want to make eye contact with them anymore and you certainly don’t want to leave your goats unattended with them nearby.
Jeff managed to keeps his seven things both uncreepy and interesting, so I’ve decided to play along after all and I can only hope that my seven things are equally as undisturbing and amusing.
- I’m terrified of dark water. Even more so when there are bridges involved. It’s not that I’m afraid of drowning, per se. I can swim, like, crazy good. Crazy good. As a direct albeit subconscious reaction to the whole water fear, perhaps. I don’t know. I’m a food blogger, not a psychiatrist. I could swim before I could walk (Mom, back me up on this!). I was on swim teams as a kid and varsity swim team in high school. I was a lifeguard. I am an awesomely good swimmer. But I’m batshit terrified of dark water, I think specifically because it represents the unknown and unseen and therefore potentially dangerous and deadly. I can’t even look at pictures of dark water without having a mini panic attack. Gah. Enough. Let’s discuss something else.
- I started reading at 11 months old. I was a total freak of nature. My first word was “monkey,” fer Chrissakes. I could read anything that anyone put in front of me, almost instinctively. My mother enjoyed showing me off like a tiny, well-educated carnie. Her favorite things to have me read were newspapers and restaurant menus. And apparently one her favorite memories of me goes something like this: When I was two years old, she took me along to lunch with some friends of hers, none of whom knew I could read. I was sitting in my high chair, minding my bizznazz and looking at the menu. Her friends assumed that I was just mindlessly staring at it, perhaps trying to decide which corner of the menu to nibble and drool on as most two-year-olds are wont to do. But after a few minutes of reading over the menu, I scared the bejesus out of everyone when I looked up and asked, “Mom? What’s chocolate mouse?” I didn’t know what mousse was; I was two, gimme a break.
- I get song lyrics wrong all the time. I tend to mishear things (primarily because I have really poor hearing, but that’s another story), especially song lyrics. I’m like that moron who thinks it’s “Scuse me while I kiss this guy” in the Jimi Hendrix song, but my misheard lyrics aren’t nearly as funny. For example, “Hush, hush, keep it down now, this is scary.” This is scary? What? I mean, “Voices Carry” is the name of the song, for God’s sake! Or “Mouth to mouth to mouth Virginia, don’t let me wait.” Yeah. Not funny at all. Just lame.
- I’m really not that great of a cook. I can bake better than I cook, and that’s not saying much. I have these certain things that I do really well and I stick to them, which gives off the illusion that I’m a much better cook than I actually am. That said, I appreciate all the creativity and effort and skill that truly talented chefs put into their work probably moreso than the average person, because I’ve tried myself for so long to duplicate those things and just end up covered in grease burns, crying.
- I’m very, very bad about returning voicemails and emails. Although if you’re reading this blog, you probably know me well enough to have experienced that yourself from time to time. Okay, probably all the time. At least I can say you shouldn’t take it personally, as I do it to everyone. Voicemails scare the pure violet hell out of me. I don’t even like to check them. It’s particularly bad at work. I have this mental block about it that maybe one day, with lots of expensive therapy, I’ll be able to explain. For now, all I have to say for myself is that I do return smoke signals.
- I will judge you almost exclusively upon your taste in food and music. And if I think that you have pedestrian and/or closed-minded taste in either area, it will be a long uphill road before we can be friends. But don’t worry — it’s not you, it’s me. …No, wait. It’s you.
- I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. But that’s okay, because I’m willing to bet that 99% of you feel the same way.
I can’t say that any of these were amusing, but it’s a Monday. Cut me some slack. But tomorrow — back by popular request — we’ll have Tuesday Trivia once again. If that doesn’t cheer you up, then I don’t know what will (swift kick in the pants? ice cream? Tinkertoys?).