Tonight on "Behind the Blogger"

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Here are some little known facts about me:

I was in "All State" and "All New England" chorus in high school. Seriously. I was an alto and I loved that shizzit. Give me a madrigal and a smile. Hey Nonny, Nonny.

I have no tatoos, but I often wish I had one. Then I chicken out.

I do not exercise. No thank ee'. If you see me running, I suggest that you haul ass, as I am being chased by something that plans on either eating me or killing me. Or both. Or, I am chasing the ice cream man after drinking alot of sangria.

I made my now husband buy me several drinks before I agreed to dance with him. I was, it should be known, out "Trolling" for drinks on that particular evening. It was a game my girlfriends and I played. I was quite successful.

In 8th grade, I cut and dyed my hair ala Cyndi Lauper.

I smoked clove cigarettes for about 2 years in college. I loved them. They were long and black and I called them the "sticks of death".

I tell people exactly what I am thinking. It is an often unfortuate way to live. Believe me. I get in more trouble than I can to describe. Some people down right Hate me. Some love me. But I won't die from holding shit in.

I started Therapy when I was 19. The reason was I fell off a ladder from a second story dorm window. I was on that ladder, which was perched on a milk crate, cause the guy I was sleeping with had just locked me out of his room and I was trying to get in to strangle him. I wedged his window open, and got my fingers in, but couldn't pull myself fully in. At that point, the ladder fell off the milk crate and left me hanging on the ledge from the second story dorm window. I was on the FRONT of the building. People walking up to the dorm could see me. The fucker left the room when he saw me out there on the ledge. I suppose he might say that he was "fleeing the psycho chick he was sleeping with". Semantics. I fell off the ledge and really fucked up my ankle. As I lay in the dirt, it occurred to me that I wasn't acting completely rational. Maybe I needed to talk to someone about this.

I love Comedy Central. I am Comedy Central's bitch.

6 Baleful Regards:

Nancy said...

Man, I always felt like I lived a wild life in college. Then I read about other people's escapades and I feel like I lived such an unexciting life. :-)

I was in chorus in middle school. Loved, loved it but I don't have the best voice. What I do have is an excellent ability to sightread, which makes me valuable as a leader in the chorus.

Chasing the ice cream man... heh heh.

That's a rough way to kick someone out of your bed after a booty call. I am glad you were OK.

Erica said...

I have a tatoo--I love it, but it needs to be filled in. I haven't ever regretted the decision though, except for a moment when my grandmother found out. She thinks it's pretty now though, after having a few years to adjust to the idea!

I was crying like a little girl during most of the process. I couldn't move though, because if I did then the butterfly I got would have had really jaggedy wings. :D

Elizabeth said...

Ooh, me too! I sang alto/second soprano from 6th grade until second semester of senior year of college. I miss it sooo much.

I also smoked clove cigarettes in high school, now even thinking about how they tasted and smelled makes me want to gag!

I never fell off a ladder, but I sort of stalked a guy my freshman year of college. It's a long story.

JenfromBoston said...

I also have a tatoo (insanely small, covered up on my hip). Yeah, you are aware that these aren't exactly "licked on my kittens". Like, they use needles. Did you know this? NEEDLES! I still can't beleive I forked over 50 bucks to some dude to stick a needle in me.
I didn't cry (b/c I am very, very brave) but if I had to do it over? Eh, solid maybe. I like it but we will see how I feel about it in about 20 years. Actually, all 3 siters have the same one (shamrock) on our hip. My mom, well, I wouldn't say "pride" was her 1st feeling when she learned this.
I think we need to see some pics from your Cyndi Lauper days. C'mon!

roo said...

Hey, I'll trade ya!

I sing in choir too! (But you knew that.) Let's hear it for the altos!

I also like me some clove cigarettes, particularly the Djarum specials, but I try not to anymore.

I haven't ever thought of an image I felt so closely connected with that I'd like it permanently inked onto me. But I am a great admirer of the tattoos of others.

I enjoy running, but I don't do it often. Certainly not often enough, anyway, judging by the size of my ass...

I cut the picture of Cyndi Lauper off my cassette liner of "Girls Just Want To Have Fun" and used it as a poster in my Barbie Town House.

My husband danced at our wedding, and that's been about it. Drunk or otherwise.

I'm not in therapy, but I probably should be. Eh, that's what blogging's for.

I love your ladder story.

And...
I don't have cable. The only thing about it I miss is Comedy Central. Particularly The Daily Show.

Jane said...

I don't remember how I came across your blog, but now I love it and decided to start at the beginning. The story about braking your ankle is absolute gold! I just read it aloud to my roommate (aka husband). Really great. :)

 
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