I have been passed the interview torch, so to speak.
I've been given five very specific questions to answer from the charming, lovely and a little bit gassy Stacy from the Nation of all things Jurgen.
I'll do my best, here we go:
#1) So, you say your Grandma sang a song that you have freckles on your butt. How does Grandma know? You don't moon her, do you? Because that would be bad WHISKEY LYNN MARIE. (Did I do a decent "you're in trouble" voice?)
-I never really thought about this detail. How DID she know? People in my family were always telling me that I looked like an exact replica of my Grandma (young Grandma, not the 70-something lady, cause that would be weird for a 13-year old). Maybe she was really not my Grandma after all. Maybe she was part of a top-secret Government cloning project and I am her clone. That would make a ton of sense. Then she would have just KNOWN that the freckles in question were there, because she would have had them too. A-HA!
But really, I think I just told her about the freckles once. Why we were discussing this, I'll never know. Our family is like that. Butts, poop, menopause, body hair, who's a bitch & who's a liar- we pretty much had no limits as far as conversation went. Pretty much just like the "Waltons".
#2) You said back in February that, for each week that is new to you, you will make people say, "that Whiskeymarie, what an interesting girl! How does she find the time to lead a girl scout troop, make needlepoint pillows for her friends, ceate art from discarded ink cartridges AND run for Congress? She's a real go-getter."
So, what have you done?
Or, Alternatively, (if you're like me), what made you say, "Aw, fuck it"?
-Point by point:
*I am pretty sure that no one wants me influencing their young daughter's minds via the Girl Scouts of America.
Typical meeting conversation as I envision it: "...and that, my little squirrels, is how to make a perfect martini. Any questions?" Or, "Yes, Janie, boys do lie. Did little Jimmy tell you he needed to see your 'special parts' again for his science project? Well, dear, he's a big fat liar."
I would have them swearing like truckers on meth within an hour, and craft time would consist of me showing the girls how to alter their uniforms to show off the "goods" a little more. But, on the bright side, they would learn how to bake up a storm for their "cake walk for prostate health".
*Needlepoint- something I want to do, but I don't see me walking into the "Yarn barn" anytime soon. My friends will get over it, much like I have. Plus, my man-hands make the detail work a real bitch.
*I have a laser printer. Toner cartridges are too big for my vision. I'm thinking re-creations of great moments from the Lawrence Welk Show in diorama form. I'm still working on this one.
*Congress? I couldn't get elected president of my desk, even with an unlimited campaign budget. I wouldn't even vote for me. I do like the idea of sporting a nondescript navy skirt-suit, tailored white blouse, sensible pumps and very "done" hair. I could rock the upwardly-mobile lady-politico look.
So basically, nothing. I've done nothing to inspire the awe I so richly deserve. No reason, except that I'd rather read magazines, shop, drink wine, cook and basically do...nothing. I'm greedy about my free time & hate sharing it with "projects".
Lazy, lazy, lazy.
#3) You heart Frogger, I heart Frogger. You + Me = Destiny ;)
What are your other favorite way back games? Describe why you love each of them in painstaking detail, for I want to reminisce.
-My all-time favorite game- one word...YAHTZEE. I love yahtzee. I would french-kiss it if it were a man. And, contrary to popular belief, this is not a game of luck. Oh, no no no. this is all skill. How you take your scores in the beginning will determine your ultimate fate in the Yahtzee arena. I am so competitive while playing my beloved game ("four sixes!!!! take that you lameasses with your piddly THREE- you AMATEURS!) that I may very well be playing by myself soon.
Also, much like Peggy Hill, I love me some Boggle. The sound of the cubes rolling around when you shake them, the anticipation while they land in their little cube-holders, the breath you take as the timer is turned over...Oooh, I'm feeling a little lightheaded.
In the board game category, my all-time favorite is one that I'm not sure even exists anymore: Careers. Much like Life or Monopoly, the goal is to make money. Basically, you go around the board making choices about your education & career and see who ends up with the most before they die. The most money = you win. Gosh, what a great life lesson.
Frogger was my video game of choice, but my Mom & I had a running competition playing Space Invaders, and holy crap, did we compete. She would play while I was in school, I would take over after I got home & try to beat whatever score she managed to rack up that day. I would get SO PISSED when she beat me. I think ultimately I had the high score, but I'm guessing she gave it to me, because she was good...real good.
Atari Space Invaders was the type of game that gained in intensity, noise and speed as you completed each level. The stress was crushing. The little "blip-blips" would get faster & faster: from "blip...blip...blip" to "BLIPBLIPBLIPBLIPBLIPBLIP!!!!!!!!!! Aaaaahhhhhhh!"
I only had minor panic attacks playing this, but I'm pretty sure kids all over the U.S. were suffering seizures from the manic pace of the game. Ah, memories.
#4) have you ever dressed in a bear suit and mauled a busload of sock puppets pretending they were small children? If no, have you ever done anything in a bear suit, sock puppets or busload of any noun of your own choosing? if no again, what is the next closest thing; or the craziest thing you've ever done?
-This...this is a tough one. I have done LOTS of little crazy things, but have I done anything big?
* Got engaged, while drunk, after an evening of roller-skating. Didn't want to be a quitter, so followed through with a Vegas wedding at the Elvis Chapel.
* Dressed as Marge Simpson for Halloween & won $200 (first prize) in a contest at a bar. I covered all of my exposed skin with yellow makeup.
* Trudged through South Minneapolis for 2 miles in my Wonder Woman underwear after a little night swimming in lake Nokomis. Alcohol may or may not have been involved. I also peed on the front lawn of a church. Sorry, Jeebus.
*Speaking of Wonder Woman, many years ago that was my Halloween costume (before it was trendy, duh). I made the eagle top, hot pants, shiny red boots, head & arm bands, and cape. My bra was stuffed to Lynda Carter proportions and I had a wig that matched her hair. There was this guy at the party we went to that I long-suspected of having a thing for me. I guess I thought it would be a good idea then to keep pulling the wig off of my head, sticking my tongue out at him and going "Aaaagggggghhhhhh". I don't think he felt so warm and fuzzy about me after that.
*At our 15-year reunion- on a dare- I walked over and grabbed one of the bigger nerds from our class and gave him a big kiss. Not to make fun of him (being a geek myself), but more because I thought he needed it. He did, and he said it was the best kiss of his life. I may or may not be a legend at that crappy little bar. There may or may not be a plaque.
Mr. WM is o.k. with this sort of behavior, he gets me that way.
*Opened a restaurant. Only crazy people do this sort of thing, trust me.
Big things? I may have to think about this one a little more...
#5)You drank too many whiskey sours- AGAIN. You're way single, we have to pretend for a second. Please explain, in PAINSTAKING DETAIL, the thought processes and exit strategy you would use if you woke up lying next to this man:
(I'm assuming we'd be at my place because this guy obviously doesn't have a job, unless you count amateur porn.)
I wake up, the sun is shining, and for a moment , I feel pretty good. Very quickly, however, the realization sets in that I not only don't remember what I did last night, but there appears to be a Manatee in bed with me, naked. "Wow, for a big guy he sure seems to be lacking in the ding-dong department" I think to myself as I gingerly lift the sheet. And sweet mother of all that is holy, he's hairy.
Shit! He's moving- this means he's not dead, which really seemed like the best outcome here. Jail can't be this bad. What to do, what to do...
My head hurts...bad. Monkeys screeching in my ears bad.
I think I may puke, but since all I've eaten in the last 18 hours was a handful of cornnuts and a piece of string cheese, puking seems futile.
Oh god, he's rolling over. He's looking at me- the look on his face tells me he realizes that he got the sweet end of this deal- and that I was, quite literally, fucked.
"Hey baby, you sleep o.k?"
How have we reached "baby" status in one night? Wow, I REALLY don't remember anything.
"Man, you're a real wildcat in the sack" he says with more than a little touch of 70's porn star smarminess. "Momma's gonna love you, baby."
Momma? Do I have any friends at all? Did they not try to stop this? Was there not ONE cute guy at the bar? Man, I really shouldn't mix muscle relaxers and Jim Beam anymore.
"Momma?" I ask.
"Yeah, baby, she's gonna be so happy I finally found me a nice piece of ass to call Ms. Richard Cockenballs. I still can't believe you said yes- you're one crazy bitch, and that's what I love about you, sugartits"
"WHAT?" I said, while looking down at my left hand. There it was- a black hills gold rose on a golden band. I stopped breathing for a minute. I saw a flash of every ex i have- laughing at me and my rotund, hairy, mustached HUSBAND.
"We...didn't, did we? No way."
"Yup baby, signed, sealed & french kissed. Remember? When I asked if I could make sweet love to you, you said that you didn't want to have sex before you got married. Saving yourself, you said. I thought you were pullin' my leg until you proposed a few Beams later. Baby, you've made me the happiest hunk of man in the world. My 'speedos for Jesus' group is never gonna believe this one. No sir-ee."
I asked him? Am I that desperate? Am I still drunk?
I laid there for a while & thought about it while Dick flossed between his toes.
"Dick, what do you do for a living, exactly?"
"Why, I won me the Powerball a few years back. I'm a professional millionaire, baby."
"Come here, you luscious hunk of man. Baby needs her some speedo lovin"
So there's my 5 questions, answered.
In the spirit of the game, if you would like me to interview YOU with your very own, special, personalized five questions, just post a comment & let me know.
Oh. MYGOD. I heart you. LOVE.
Can you tell I was smashed when I wrote those? Sock puppets? Matt and I had a good conversation about that one when I typed it. Oh, good times.
I. Love. You. (And the speedo dude with the cross. But you more.) I was physically unable to stop laughing at this post.
I liked the last one best. Nice visual.
I would LOVE to be formally interviewed by you, WM. C'mon. I know you're curious.
Hahahahaha. I was dying through this whole thing. Your answers were so incredibly hilarious.
And now I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to play yahtzee with you. (While we listen to Duran Duran, of course.)Seriously. I didn't know that anyone loved it as much as I do.
And I really think I love you for dressing up like Marge Simpson. You make me feel, well, very very boring!
That guy is smokin' hot. Rrrreow for the banana-hanger.
Interview: Pick me! Pick me! I'm a huge interview whore. Whooo!
I'll e-mail them shortly, my dear.
I always knew you were a nut, but shit girl. You should make your way down to the open mic. You're a bonafide comedienne. And WAY hotter than Rosanne Barr. Your blog has become tops on my daily 'to-do' list. I've been back from Mex for a total of 12 hours and I just spent one of them on your page catching up. Made my day.
Thanks, B- now you made MY day!
Glad you're back.
When are we all going to have a "double date?"
Me & M figured we won't get into as much trouble with the men-folk around.
And, p.s.- you need to post more often. See what you can do about that.;)
Um, I meant on YOUR blog- I check it often. But you can post on mine anytime, Mr. B...
Oh Marcy, sorry that was actually me (Mecca). For some reason I was logged in as Brandt. But, he's a fan too, for the record :o)
Well, tell him to post on his blog once in a while. Sheesh.
Tell him I think he's hot too.
Post a Comment