Six things about me you may or may not already know…
That’s what my good friend Chuck wants me to write about. I haven’t done one of these tags in a long time, because A) I generally hate them, and B) No one really likes to be tagged, and C) I never ever follow the rules for them and who knows what kind of trouble that may eventually get me in. I’ve also done so many of these that it’s going to take a while to come up with even 6 lousy things you guys don’t already know.
Hmmmm… let me see.
1) Months ago I told you that my friend Sinead and I used to pretend we were dogs and squat in my backyard to poop. In that same context, I remember once peeing in my garage with a boy friend named Walter. I believe we peed on the steps leading down to my basement. And if memory serves correct, there was carpet on those stairs. Ewwww. I really was a freakish child, wasn’t I?
2) My earliest memory was having the chicken pox at the age of 2-1/2. I still remember wearing my pink Dr. Denton footy pajamas while laying on the couch in the house we rented around the corner from my mom’s parents. I distinctly remember the layout of the house too.
Now ask me what I had for lunch today and I won’t be able to tell you.
This isn’t me, but those are the exact same jammies, I believe. Thanks Google!
3) I once met Darryl Strawberry at a circus and asked him to sign an autograph for me. This, even though I’m not a baseball fan and don’t give a shit about some snotty-ass has-been player. But, he had been a bit of a hero to Jimmy as a boy, so I sucked it up and walked up to him.
“Mr. Strawberry, would you mind signing an autograph for my husband?”
“Well, I guess not. Do you have a piece of paper?”
“No, I don’t, but I do have this diaper. It’s clean and unused.”
(Darryl, with a very confused and somewhat supercilious expression on his face)
“I ain’t never signed no diaper. Got a piece of paper? I ain’t signin’ no diaper.”
Dick!!! If I had known you were a wife beater I never would have given you the privilege of breathing the same air as me!
4) When I was 4 years old, my brother was giving me a ride on the back of his 10-speed bike. Do you remember how the old bikes had book racks on the back? Kind of like this one…
Well, I was loving my ride and asked my brother to go faster. He did, but just then hit a big pot hole. My foot somehow got tangled in the spokes of the tire and before it stopped the bike, a nice huge chunk of my ankle was chopped off.
I clearly remember my brother, Jeff, carrying me, running back to grandma and grandpa’s house. The adults immediately sat me on the kitchen counter and started running water over my ankle in the kitchen sink. When they saw what had happened off we went to the ER.
Would you believe I actually remember sitting in the x-ray room, terrified that they were going to hurt me. I even remember asking the tech, “Are you going to put a needle in my ankle?”
For several weeks after, Jeff carried me up and down stairs and such, as my ankle was tightly wrapped. It then became infected, but I won’t go into that. Ick.
Here’s a picture of what it looks like today. The surrounding area is still puffy and swollen-looking and is numb in some areas.
5) During labor with Mikayla I was so delirious with pain (thanks to a dumbass midwife who didn’t want me to have an epidural) that at one point, when the doctor came in the room, I just screamed out, “Doc, my hoo hoo HURTSssssssssssssss!”
Jill and Mom were both in the room and the first to really lay eyes on Mikayla. It was such a special time, one I’ll always remember, especially since they were also there while I was having my episiotomy sewn up, and got to hear Jimmy say to the doctor, “Doc, make sure you sew her up real tight, okay?”
6) I enjoy farting. I think it’s fun, funny and funtastic. I will however not fart in front of Jimmy, or for that matter, anyone except Jill, my mom, Alexa, Gianna, Madison, and Mikayla. So, the rest of you are completely safe. Unless you make me laugh too hard. Then I might let one rip. Or if I cough. Or sneeze. Or bend over. Or blink. Okay, maybe you’re not as safe as I’d previously thought.
Thank you, Chuck, for forcing me to do another tag filled with worthless and boring crap about myself. I’m sure everyone is thrilled that I took you up on the challenge. Not! But I love you, so how could I refuse? To the rest of you? I’m going to refuse if you tag me!
Go visit Jill, yada yada yada. Love me, love her, yada yada yada.
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