So, in an effort to not give in to all that is depressing, wrong and soul-depleting in the world-
I'm moving on.
I haven't got much today, so how about...
Five things about me you may or may not know, may or may not care about, and may or may not be at all interesting:
1) I have been in 8 car accidents/fender benders that I can remember. Three were most certainly my fault, 5 weren't. My head has gone through/partially through 3 windshields/windows (explains the whole "forgetting" thing). Three of these accidents totaled the cars in question. I have been accident-free for at least 6 years now.
That fact does not mean I'm a better driver these days. I still talk too much whilst behind the wheel (partial cause of the wreck that totaled my first-ever new car, a 1991 Dodge Colt), I do things like fix my makeup & dig around the back seat for cd's, drift off thinking about how I'll spend my lottery winnings...and I have an anger threshold that is only slightly lower than zero. I have never taken this rage out physically on other drivers, but I have maybe yelled out my window once or twice- though there is no actual proof to verify this alleged behavior. The words "learn how to drive you old bitch" and "is your signal broken, jackass?" have possibly come out of my mouth, maybe- that's all I'm saying.
This hypothetical anger is usually accompanied by fist-shaking. I don't like giving the finger. It feels too common. When is the last time you had a good fist-shaking? Try it- it feels good. So does finger-wagging, accompanied by frownie-face. Bam! Take that- you bad driver...you.
All in all, I'm not a good driver. I know this, and I am o.k. with it.
2) The Mr. and myself (well, mostly ME) got a dog on a whim this past fall. I wanted a dog sooooo bad. I knew I shouldn't have been looking on Craig's List- or at all, for that matter- because I am incapable of looking without buying, as I have proved over, and over, and over...
He was so fucking cute that we didn't realize he was descended from Lucifer's pet pooch until we felt the little raised "666" behind his left ear.
Within three days this devil-dog had reduced my home, my husband, and myself to wimpering piles of rubble. He was a biter, and he bit my ass more than once, my face and basically anyone within reach of his jaws of steel.
I came home from work on the second day and Mr. WM was sitting on the coffee table just staring, and he couldn't talk. The dog had rendered him retarded. He had the look of someone who had just finished their first day on the job as restroom attendant at Old Country Buffet on "goulash night".
We knew it was him or us. My couch was nearly destroyed, I was covered in bites and scratches, my house smelled like dogshit, and this sweet-looking little thing that the previous owner said was only going to be medium-sized looked as if he were going to grow up to be a pony. He had to go.
Sorry, Little Fucker- It's not us, it's you.
Back to the old owner he went, and back came our sanity.
We are trying again in a month or so.
We're getting a Jack Russell this time.
They're little, they're cute.
They can't eat me when they grow up.
3) My family raised chickens, turkeys and pigs for a number of years when I was growing up. "Chicken processing" day was never a happy day at my house.
I have "slopped" the hogs. Often in my nightgown.
I have chased turkeys around the yard that somehow managed to escape (I forgot the latch was open & the dog killed two of them- oops.)
We also grew most of our own fruits and vegetables. HUGE chunks of my summer were taken up with berry picking, or pea-picking, or green bean-picking, or shucking corn, or digging up potatoes...
Yes, I'm kind of a Farm Girl. You tell anyone and I'm coming after you with my pitchfork and a bucket of pig feed.
4) I got my period when I was twelve- on track & field day in 6th grade. I was mortified in my red terrycloth shorts (and matching top). I was completely beside myself, bleeding and all, so I did really shitty in my events. Embarrassment upon embarrassment. It's bad enough to be bleeding from your nether regions, but no ribbons to take home? Damn.
I didn't tell my Mom for 6 months or so- she started asking where all the "supplies" were going.
That, and I was wearing a giant maxi-pad when she took me swimsuit-shopping. I guess I didn't think she'd notice. Way to camouflage, smart girl.
Yes, I've got that Stayfree, confident look...
5) I was one of the first students to participate in the Post-secondary Enrollment Options act. It started in 1988, and that year I was one of only two students in MN that went to college full-time (a lot more went part-time) instead of my Senior year of high school. They hadn't quite figured out how the college credit-to-high school credit thing worked (my school used quarter and half-credits sometimes still) , so I ended up taking 56 credits that year.
One quarter I had 18 credits. (we were still on quarters then instead of semesters)
But, I passed them all, despite the fact that I had gained a lot more freedom from my parents by going to college & very often skipped class to go hang out with cute boys. Or shop. But I did get my first, and only D ever. No one was happy about that in the Whiskeymarie household, I can tell you that much. I got the D because I skipped the day the Prof. said when the mid-term would be, and then I just happened to skip class the day of the midterm- go figure. I'm still actually surprised I passed.
Guess I'm smarter than I look.
So there you go- now we're all a little closer. Want to trade friendship pins? Or snuggle?