The 40 Questions Meme

1) Who is the last person you high-fived?
My friend Doody, several years ago. He insists on greeting and leaving this way. It's his own little "Aloha"

2) If you were drafted into a war, would you survive.
Yes. Shooting, knifing, or strangling things doesn't bother me any.

3) Do you sleep with the TV on?
As a child, the TV was opposite the wall of the head of my bed, so I went to sleep listening to Carson's monologues. Since I don't own a television now, I'm answering "no".

4) Have you ever drunk milk straight out of the carton?
I live alone, I drink everything from its "carton". Shhhhh, don't tell the guests!

5) Have you ever won a spelling bee?
Nope. But I'z still a gud speler, dood.

6) Have you ever been stung by a bee?
Yes, several times, and while not pleasant, I think the buzzing sound bothers me more than the sting.

7) How fast can you type?
Fast enough to get things done.

8) Are you afraid of the dark?
Nah. I do my best in the dark (smirk).

9) Eye color:
Baby seal eyes brown.

10) Have you ever made out at a drive-in?
Drive-in? Jeez, what year is this? The last time I was at a drive-in was to see a double-feature of "Soylent Green" and "Westworld". And I was 6, if I recall. So, the answer is no.

11) When was the last time you chose a bath over a shower?
Couple of weeks ago, after moving. Wanted a nice soak.

12) Do you knock on wood?
So that's what we're calling it now? Several times a day, then.

13) Do you floss daily?
No.

15) Can you hula hoop?
Only to some good R & B; must be something about the rhythm.

16) Are you good at keeping secrets?
When I want to be.

17) What do you want for Christmas?
A Red Ryder BB gun, duh! And I promise not to
shoot my eye out!

18) Do you know the Muffin Man?
Zee Muffin Man? But of course.

19) Do you talk in your sleep?
Not that I've ever been told. That would be bad for keeping secrets.

20) Who wrote the book of love?
Rufus, the cutest dog ever.

21) Have you ever flown a kite?
I own several kites: an airplane, a traditional box, a traditional diamond kite (think Charlie Brown), and one shaped like a pirate ship. Haven't flown them yet this year; I'm waiting for our traditionally windy springtime to begin.

22) Do you wish on your fallen lashes?
Yes, although I don't think any have ever come true, because otherwise I'd have that pony by now, dammit!

23) Do you consider yourself successful?
I'm typing responses aren't I?

24) How many people are on your contact list of your cell?
78, Just counted.

25) Have you ever asked for a pony?
Oh to have a fallen lash right now!

26) Plans for tomorrow?
I'll just let things develop as they may.

27) Can you juggle?
I am inordinately proud of my juggling.

28) Missing someone now?
Yes.

29) When was the last time you told someone "I love you"?
Yesterday.

30) And truly meant it?
The same.

31) How often do you drink?
Every day. I'm very fond of the local IPA, so I try to stroll by the pub each afternoon for a pint.

32) How are you feeling today?
A little tired, but otherwise groovy.

33) What do you say too much?
*expletive deleted*

34) Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school?
No, even when I should've been, they took pity on me.

35) What are you looking forward to?
I have a massage scheduled for Thursday. I guess I can look forward to that.

36) Have you ever crawled through a window?
Yes. (loooooooooooong story reserved).

37) Have you ever eaten dog food?
Yes, to get my dog to eat once, I had to resort to a bite of it. I went for the peas and carrot part though; the "mystery meat" section scared even me.

38) Can you handle the truth?
As long as you're not a snarky git about telling me, then yes.

39) Do you like green eggs and ham?
I would eat them here or there.

40) Any cool scars?
A few. Stories are optional.

12) Do you knock on wood?
So that's what we're calling it now? Several times a day, then.

HA! Way to take my mind to the gutter, Michael.

Did you mean to steal several of my answers (#9, #16) or was that an oversight?

Your #17 made me laugh. But you're going straight to hell for #20.

Yes, I shamelessly stole #9 & #16. They're correct, and I couldn't dream up anything better.

Stop mocking me about #20, or he'll have to beseech you again.

Well I would hate to be beseeched again.

What does one have to do to hear one of your cool scar stories?

I have a four-to-five inch scar on my right shin, from (ahem) shaving my legs. Well, not me shaving them, it was my idjit sister that did it.

Now, before the story gets weird(er), I shall explain. I was a swimmer when I was young, from about age 7 until I went to college. As you know, when there is an important meet, all swimmers "shave down" to eliminate drag and improve your times.

So, it was the last meet of the long-course season, and I was trying diligently to get to Nationals (didn't make it, alas). I was about age 15 if I recall.

So, the meet was over the weekend, and I qualified for my race in the Saturday session, with the final heats to swim on Sunday. So on Saturday afternoon I had to shave.

Now my sister, who was not a swimmer, found it hilariously funny that a guy would shave his legs, and wanted to watch. I figured what the heck, I'm going to be wearing my swimsuit, so sure.

She laughed as I shaved my left leg, all the while telling me what a sucky job I was doing. So I said fine you shave the other leg.

Well, she shaved the back of my calf first, kind of moving around the leg. I'm basically standing on one foot, with the other in the bathroom sink, and, as you may know, you can kind of press harder with a razor on the fleshy back part of your calf while you're shaving. You can't press nearly as hard on the shinbone.

So she's shaving around my lower leg, and I don't know what the hell she was thinking, but she put the razor at the base of my shin and started to shave up the shinbone, but she's still applying the same amount of pressure! So, the blade nicks my skin, and she continues moving the blade up my shin, while I scream and look down to watch about 4 or 5 inches of skin peel off my shin like the skin of an apple.

Took almost an entire box of Kleenex and a freakin' tourniquet to staunch the bleeding, and my sister was really sorry. Or so she said. Needless to say, I never let anyone do that ever again, although I did once let a girlfiend shave my beard.

So that's one of the more interesting scars. Oh and on Sumday at the meet, yes, jumping into the chlorinated pool really did sting, just like you'd think.

That and the Ice Capades scar are probably the most interesting stories. And the cutting the orange scar. But those are for another time.

OK, your turn.

I'll pony (HA HA HA) up my cool scar story tonight, but first I have to inquire about this friend of yours - Doody? Is there a rational explanation for that, or do I not want to know?

I always figured you for an ice skating kind of guy, Mike. I'll bet you loved the movie Ice Castles when you were growing up as much as I did.

Nope, it's just his name. Here's his site, which I'd never seen until today (I luvs me that smary look on his face):

http://www.vanguard.edu/faculty/wdoody/

Not the double finger point! That takes moxie. At any rate, "Doody" as a last name makes a lot more sense than as a first name.

The only cool scar story I have is the clotheslining story. I was but a wee girl of about 10, chasing my brother through the backyard of one of the ancient old women who lived on the street over from us in Belleair Bluffs. Said old woman notices us running through her backyard, and proceeds to scream at us accordingly.

My brother takes off and I try to follow, cutting through the middle of another backyard. I can see a clothesline there, but there's no line of rope hanging between the two ends, so I thought it was ok to go barreling on through.

Except it wasn't. While there was no rope hanging up, there was a whisper thin coil of wire. Which was rusted, and hanging at the approximate level of my forehead. I took it right across the 'head, went forward a few more feet, then snapped backwards and fell right on my ass.

My brother looked back at me over his shoulder, and kept running. I managed to scramble to my feet just as the old lady was closing in, and I ran home with blood streaming down my face. Which horrified my mom when I came sprinting into the house. Then she took me to the doctor to get a tetanus shot.

I have a scar from it, sort of an indentation, but at this point it just looks like a small wrinkle. If you look REALLY closely, you can see a small fleck of darkness in the indentation - a piece of rust.

Now give with your Ice Capades story.

Ah, the Ice Capades. A tale as early as I can remember; it's a long one, and I'm gabby, but tell it I shall. This is the late 60s and I was probably 5 or so at the time.

When I was little, my parents would take my sister
and I to all sorts of events when they passed through Phoenix; the circus, the state fair, and, of course, the fabulous Ice Capades.

So, we go see the show one evening, and it's your
typical Ice Capades show - ice dancing, tricks, figure skating, an ice-skating moose, whatever.

We get home and the next day, after dinner, my folks were watching "All in the Family" or something, and there's a commercial for the Ice Capades, and we all watched it, remembering the show from the previous night.

It's at this point, that I need to digress and tell you about the floors in the family room. Linoleum. Original with the house, and worn from 15 years of use; we were the second owners of the place. You know, if it's wet, linoleum can be pretty tricky to navigate, which is why my parents, didn't want us leaving cups next to the
bean-bag chair. Didn't want to keep cleaning up spills and risking life and limb.

Linoleum can also be dangerous in another way, and that's if you've kicked off your shoes and are only wearing your socks. Slippery evil worn down socks; they're the snake in the Garden of Eden of Linoleum. Coincidentally, that was my current situation, lounging around after dinner watching the tube.

One more detail, and I think we'll consider the stage set.

We had end tables at each end of the sofa, those retro-60s looking things, all sharp corners and oddly tapered legs. Probably go for a fortune on eBay now, but back then it was just typical contemporary furniture.

There. Commercial, linoleum, socks. Brainless rug-monkey boy (BRMB) ignorant of physics. If you'd have seen the commercial, or if you've seen an actual show, you know it's all flash, and this commercial was no different.

Thus, as the commercial ends, BRMB stands up and says, in the ways 5 years olds are wont to do, "I could do that!". Fade to black.

That is why, if you met me, and you were close enough, sooner or later you would notice a scar that runs directly across the bridge of my nose, exactly between my eyes. Now you know why parents the world over have an unhealthy obsession with little children somehow maiming their
eyesight; it's because it is amazingly easy for said children to do so.

As I ran from the kitchen into the family room, I
contemplated my move. I could just sort of slide around the room, or I could go for the coup de grace, a double or triple axel. You can pretty much guess what I tried.

Finally, I should mention that I cannot skate. Ice skates, roller skates, whatever. Just never been that coordinated. Weak ankles.

So, axeling complete, I go to stick the landing, and the inexorable angular momentum laws of physics, combined with slippery socks and linoleum send me forehead first into corner of aforementioned coffee table.

Did I mention, or did you know, scalp wounds bleed heavily? Sweet Holy Jay-sus, you have no idea. From the anatomy, you'd never guess, since there ain't no major blood vessels through the bridge of your nose. Must be all the capillaries close to the surface of the skin.

Another thing to know about scalp wounds: they cause children to begin screeching uncontrollably, as if they were auditioning for tryouts as that infamous banshee; as if their very souls are being roasted in the pits of Dante's inferno. I'm sure he wrote that section, right after trying to console a crying child.

Not to mention panicked parents yelling and rushing around trying to assist and help said child (BRMB).

OK, let's play the inspiring music and recap.

Clean cloth. One dollar.

Bag o' ice. 20 cents.

Trip to the emergency room. 45 dollars.

Hours, nay days, of laughter because I am such a
wuss that no how, no way, was the attending resident going to put stitches in my nose, so I was bandaged and taped so it looked as if I had a giant, white medical-tape asterisk on my face? Priceless.

Fuckin' Ice Capades.