10 Things You Didn’t Want to Know About Me

In the short time I’ve been blogging, I’ve been lucky enough to run across many awesome bloggers who have gifted me with awards. Eventually, I will get around to listing those awards on their own page, along with proper credit to those who have given them to me. I’m just so busy.

Not really though. I’m actually more lazy than busy. Then the busier I get, the lazier I get, until I realize that I haven’t changed my clothes in 4 days. I’ll get around to it. I promise.

Dang, Steel Magnolias is on tonight? Well, it won’t be tonight.

Anyway, there is one thing I can do before I spend two hours deciding if Queen Latifah plays a strong willed southern woman better than Sally Field.

It’s a showdown, bitches!!!

I can finish half the requirement. Anyone whose gotten an online award knows that most of the time, it asks the recipients to provide some facts that no one knows about them.

The thing is, I feel like you guys already kind of know everything. I did a post on my pubic hair for Gods sake. There is nothing I won’t tell you people, so what can I tell you that’s new?

Then I realized I can share the things you didn’t want to know. My ‘Too Much Information’ information, so to speak. It’s the stuff I don’t share with you guys not because of my own embarrassment. I have no shame. No, I was actually protecting you. There are some things you just don’t want to know about people.

Too bad, because as you are glued to the screen in morbid fascination, unable to look away, much like a bad car accident, let me now present;

 

The Top Ten Things You Did Not Want to Know About Me

I have never had a pimple that I did not aggressively attack in a way that would make a Mossad interrogator flinch. Not just a poke here and then, I break out the heavy artillery. I have a box of razors and pins for the task that would make a 14-year-old self mutilating emo swoon with desire.
At night, when I go to the bathroom, I turn off the light. Then, I stand in front of the mirror and stare myself down until I’m afraid of my own reflection.  Seriously, the longer you stare at yourself in the mirror, the more sinister you start to appear. Try it. At some point, you will start to wonder if that reflection is still a reflection, or if you’ve somehow unleashed your own evil doppelganger. You will be afraid to turn your back on it. I can usually only do it because I know that I’m actually the evil doppelganger.
I have no integrity. When I’m watching movies or reading books, I don’t understand the moral conflict of most characters.  I know, deep down, if I had the opportunity to commit a major crime and not get caught, I would take it. It’s why when I wait in line at the bank; I plan out bank robberies in my head.
I feel like I’d make a really good paraplegic. I’m incredibly lazy and older I get, the more my body goes to shit from the waist down anyway. I’ve had long, internal discussions with myself about whether I would want to be the philosophical paraplegic, like Augustus Hill in Oz, or if I would want to go all ‘Born on the 4th of July’ angsty. I’m leaning towards angsty.
I talk to myself…a lot. Not little comments here or there. Actual two sided conversations. Sometimes, I use accents to keep it interesting.
Every now and then, I go through my Facebook page and rank my friends based on who I would screw if the world ended and the only people left alive were me and my Facebook friends. Then, I pick the top five on the list and send them ‘how you doing’ messages, so I can lay the groundwork early if the world does end.
If I ever became famous and were offered a shot to pose for Playboy, I would take it. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe they’ll have a “Babes with Stretchmarks” edition.  My only condition would be that they use Photoshop to digitally reduce the size of my nipples.
I watch Glee for the storyline and fast forward through all the singing parts. It is usually 11 minutes long.
I believe almost any conspiracy theory for a least a few seconds when I read it. I am still not entirely convinced the moon landing happened.
My very first sexual fantasy involved Huey Lewis.

So those facts should suffice for all future awards. However, as for a completely different award, I would like to announce that I have been nominated for the BLAHS, which is not a mild depressive disorder, but Blog Awards Handed Out by Sackler, i.e. Mark Sackler of The Millennium Conjectures. Me and two other lovely ladies are tied up is a sweat soaked three-way over at his site and he wants to know who you like the most.

You can check out his site, and vote for your favorite here. Please be advised that cheating is encouraged and no one will mind if you stay up for the next seven days, continuously voting for a certain loudmouthed know-it-all.