If I hadn’t been glued to my TV all day yesterday, I’d have written something compelling for today’s post.
But I was, so I didn’t.
After I tore myself away, I busied myself by ransacking my hard drive, desperately searching for something interesting to write and that’s when I found this meme from Helene’s blog that I loved when I first read it, so I thought I’d cherry pick my way through it because I’ve never picked cherries before and I need the exercise.
By the way … I don’t like fresh cherries. BLECH. I will only eat cherries if they’ve been picked, stemmed and washed.
And then processed.
And then combined with high fructose corn syrup, modified food starch, erythorbic acid and artificial color, specifically Red 40. No other color will do, thank you.
And then they must be shoved into an airtight can and left to sit on a grocery shelf for months on end.
And then poured over cheesecake.
What can I say? I’m a purist at heart.
And now I’m a hungry purist at heart.
Here we go:
What color are your socks right now?
One is black and one is Nate’s. Since Nate’s foot and leg are double the size of mine, I’ve pulled his all the way up to my thigh so that the ankle pocket protrudes from my knee.
I’m too lazy to change so I’m calling it haute couture.
What are you listening to right now?
The phone ringing and me yelling to Zoe the phone is ringing and Zoe yelling can you get it and me yelling I’m busy and Zoe yelling where is it and me yelling it’s under the couch where you threw it the last time it rang and Zoe yelling how do you know it’s for me and me yelling what am I, an idiot?
It’s either that or listen to Helena burp along to the Jonas Brothers.
Not sure which one is worse.
Can you drive a stick shift?
Yes. My best friend Traci taught me one night when we were sixteen. Then my brother reinforced the lesson. Thanks to them, I was able to drive my father’s baby blue Pinto to my friend Pete’s house all the way on the other side of town. Would you believe I drove the speed limit without ever getting out of second gear? Somehow I managed not to blow the entire transmission.
I know! My dad couldn’t believe it either.
What was the last thing you ate?
Piece of toast
Leftover mac’n eheese
Chocolate chip cookie
Another chocolate chip cookie
I’ll have to get back to you.
How old are you today?
What do you know? It does get easier every time I say it.
Have you ever dyed your hair?
I’d say no, but I think the big ass skunk line running down the top of my head would give me away.
What is on the floor of your closet?
Carpet, I think. Hang on a sec while I check.
Nevermind. Laundry’s blocking my way and the forklift operator I have on standby isn’t answering his cell phone.
Let’s just say carpet and leave it at that.
Beige, if I recall correctly.
How many states have you lived in?
Lots! There’s Confusion, Inebriation, Sober, Anxiety, Depression, Euphoria, Panic and Altered.
Oh, and then there was that summer I shacked up with Bob Seger in Katmandu.
Actually, that might have been Altered.
Let’s just say eight and move on.
Favorite dog breed?
Ooooh, I forgot what they’re called! But you know them … they’re really cute?
They don’t shed?
Or chew, drool, smell, poop or pee in my house?
Oh, I remember now!
I love answering memes! They’re so random and I love all things random!
I have freakishly pointy elbows.
So if you’ve got a meme, feel free to forward it to me, as long as you promise not to call me mean names because as I’ve mentioned before, I’m genetically incapable of tagging anyone.
Now, since I haven’t gone grocery shopping in over two days, I had better get myself off to Wegmans before they call me, asking me if I died without telling them.