Tagged!

6 odd things about me, tagged from the Moped: (Although my knee jerk response "Besides everything that comes out of my mouth?" seemed most appropriate)

Blog about six odd things about yourself, and tag six other bloggers.

I tag:

Portana
MD
Melinite
Uhhhh...Any LJ/Lurkers who frass around this blog. You know who you are. And comment occasionally, wouldja? It's so cold and lonely in the world.


1-I'm pretty obsessive compulsive about cleaning. This is odd being that I'm such an ADD addled flibbertygibbet who'd just as soon put something off (ex: Sunday Series Six Study Session for buddies? Yeah. Drove Dorajar NUTS while she was studying her Micro-Frassonomics homework. I was content to bob my head to the "Eric Clapton Unplugged" muzak and stare outside)

This is also odd because, if I had my way, I'd leave the clothes from the dryer in the hamper and just pick out what I need to wear downstairs. (If it wasn't so gawdawful cold down there)

2- Five years of college? No diploma. How'z that for an honest admission? I had one class left to take and prrrrrrt, no degree. I started gigging regularly in 1998, and that was that.

3-I wear the same cologne I started wearing my junior year of High School. Not, like, "still-still" wear it. But crammed in with the Aqua Di Gio, Davidoff Cool Water, Dolce and Gabbana, and Perry Ellis...is a lil' bottle of Preferred Stock, by Stetson. It was 1st received as a gift from an old g/f and it sort of got associated with "me". (Truth. While the other boys were drowning themselves in Polo or Drakkar, I was getting by with a $10 one ounce spray bottle. )

Y'all know that I've always had a soft spot for cologne. Truly. It stems from pooberty, when I first started producing man-funk, and needed to start investing in deodorant as a daily device. One day, I found a dusty bottle of "Hai, Karate". (Ironic, yes?) in the bathroom closet. I wore that green, smelly, toxic shit far too liberally. It got to the point that when I was in gym class, my sweat would cause it to stain my white gym shirt green. I weaned myself off of it, (Read: ran out) and during school shopping my Freshperson year of HS, I convinced mama-san to invest in some knock-off brand found at TJ Maxx (Mom would NEVER let us wear designer shit. Don't even get me started when I came home and showed her my new Girbaud's in the 8th grade. I nearly caught death)

FF to 1992, I get in my little g/f inspired X-mas stocking...Preferred...Stock? The rest is Frasstory.

Now, "The Good Stuff" (As I refer to the pricier designer stank) I wear out to events. Date nights, theatre (Where I like to think that I'm conscientious enough to avoid bathing in it, which pisses off other patrons) parties. I think that I have a metabolism and body chemistry that actually compliments certain fragrances without seeming like I'm "wearing cologne" (At least that's what I've been told by both SSGF's and GF's alike. Hey, P? Do you always form your world based on the opinions of your significant other? I kid. Really, my body runs hot. You know? Sooooo I give the "candle effect")

The Preferred Coc...Stock? That's my daily funk. So next time y'all are at the Bullseye, give'er a whiff and think of me. (I still get paranoid when I'm at work and when someone near me sneezes? Yeah. I blame me.)

4- I like "cool" pillows. I'm a night time pillow flipper.

5- When I was a kid, I'd dress up as Spider Man and run around the neighborhood climbing tree's. What's odd about this is that I would get up ridiculously high in the tree, with out any hand holds within reach. (Per Mama P- I would "shimmy" up the tree trunk) The homeowners would then have to call my parents who would have to come over with a ladder and get me to come down. Now, two caveats to me having been a climber:

The first, is that a very similar incident happened while I was in the Boy Scouts. We were camping at Fred C. Anderson Scout Camp (Remember RSvP? The infamous "Lost M-1 Field Jacket Incident"?) I was climbing with a couple of other scouts around this sandstone cliff face. I got up to a plateau and it was too high for me to continue up that particular route. Of course, the face being sandstone the butte I was perched on gave way...forcing me to hop back and effectively removing my ability to get back down. After being perched for close to an hour, I kicked at the sandstone some more and "rode" the falling piece down to another platform. Not the smartest, but it worked.

The second...is that now? I get vertigo sometimes. It's kind of bad here at work (We have these long-assed walkways that are flanked by a 30 foot drop out of your peripheral vision.)

So yeah. Great climber. Not so great at getting back down again.

6- I'm mostly to partly certain that I have a bit of "Wolverine" in me. (I ate an action figure when I was a kid) See, besides the cartiliginous mass in my nose that's been crunked no less than 3 times in childhood accidents? I've never broken a bone. Ever. And I heal fast and don't get sick all that much. (Knock knock) The cut on my thumb that I knicked a vein and bled like a bitch? 6 days later? All but gone. (Well, I was left with that stupid ass healing/peeling skin problem) When other people frass about soreness or being in pain, I sometimes can identify but not too often. I like to be "in touch" with owies and soreness b/c I think that's the first step toward recovery.

However, not feeling pain has its drawbacks. I'm deathly afraid I'll get cancer and not realize what it is until too late. boo.





And b/c I'm a gibbet who flibbers- You kids need two more.

# 7

For the last 13 months, I've pretty much had soup for lunch at work for at least 85% of the time-Monday through Frassday. (Barring the days they order in take-out, We have face-to-face meetings, or I plumb forget to bring my lunch and have to get something from the Caf. Which sucks. B/C I ended up spending $8 on a salad bar salad at the final weigh in. And WTF, why have the f#ckin' scale at the very last thing before you pay and not before? I mean, I woulda been up shit creek had I not brought down the extra cash!)

Oh, #8?

I have a wickedly awesome sense recall. I'll forget, you know, names...big picture shit. But the details I can store for ages. Don't ask. I know, it makes my ever telling you a story the longest and lamest experience of your life but it's true. De. Tails.

First encounters (Redwright I met at CRPC after "A Few Good Men", Feej was at "Leaning Tower", MD Was upstairs at the Illusion Theatre after I'd finished a crying jag. Dorajar was at the small theatre mafia holiday party December of '05. Melinite was at a Mu audition in October '05. It was raining. Really badly) Certain phone Numbers. (My two best friends in Elementary School) The weather on the day my mom took me to see "Ghostbusters" for the first time at the theatre back in 1984. The musty smell of the comic shop I went to as a kid and bought Star Trek officer patches. The bitter cold of hockey practice and the way the Hartkopf warming house smelled of sweat and hockey gear.

The perfume of women I knew in high school...(Jovan White Musk, Exclamation, Head over Heels, Jessica McClintock, and Liz Claiborne will always remind me of then.) Weird shit. You know? Like when my dad asked my big brother and I to each memorize the square root of a particular number on a calculator. (Mine was "10", or- 3.1622776. Check it, bitches. I dare you.)

#9

I like symmetery. Being symmetrical. Balance.

#10

I make up words/syntax regularly. It's gotten progressively worse over the past 11 months or so, to the point where I think I alienate my friends and family. (It doesn't just stop and start with "frass", yo) Song lyrics, whatever. I'm a terrible underpant.

#11

I really, truly, cannot take the world seriously. It amazes me that I've survived working in corporate culture in a mid-tier capacity this long. It's branded me as a "high energy" co-worker in most instances, but I won't be a manager b/c they all think that, while great with the staff- Would probably not be a good candidate in that position. Truly.

Along those lines, I find the funny in life a lot faster than most peeps. Funny to me. You know? Double entendres. Telling the guy at the coffee shop that I want "just a smidgen of room" for cream. Then following up with "You know, if you look it up? You find 'smidgen' is a perfectably acceptable measurement device"...and then his co-worker smirks and she says "We know. There are three 'titches' to a smidgen".

Now, there are some bittersweet ends to this besides not getting hitched up the corporate turd-pole. Not taking things for serious has caused the end of several previous relationships. (Starting in 9th grade when she called me "Weird" to recently where I was called much much worse.) It also diminishes my "serious" value as a performer...which relegates me to smaller roles, gregarious hammy roles...the side kick. (Not to mention my small head. I think I would get a lot more commercial work if I didn't have such a tiny gob!) But it's the differences that make the world unique. IMHO. And it's why I love life for this very reason.

There is funny everywhere you look, if you're open to see it.