Very interesting...if by interesting you mean how it can be "interesting" to find lint in your belly button.

So, I've spent the last 9:29 shaking my booty to Underworld's "Shudder/King of Snake" whilst thinking about how interesting I am.
Really. I have.

I got tagged by thy Lovely Lady Brillig to come up with 10 things that are interesting about me.

This is tough.

I can think of, oh...45 or 46 things that are wrong with me. I can think of 24 or 25 things that are just a little...off about me. Enough for people to say, "That girl, she ain't right"- if you know what I mean.
But interesting?

Not so much.

I'm going to say that my choosing to very often dance in my living room to "dark" techno music at 10:00 in the morning on a weekday is #1 on my list.
Helps me think.
And I think it scares the neighbors a little.

Continuing, nay- forging ahead, here's numbers 2-10.*
*I make no guarantees that the following items will be interesting to anyone. If not completely satisfied, please send your computer, with a written reason for your complaint to: Whiskeymarie, 36 Whiskeymarie Lane, St. Whiskeymarie, Mn 90210

#2) I say this in all honesty- I have never been dumped. Ever. I can't really figure this one out, as I have been a shockingly bad girlfriend at times. With some I was actually trying to get them to dump me, to save them a shred of dignity, but no such luck. I don't really see this fact as a necessarily good thing, for the record. It just means I was dating pussies of epic proportions.

#3) My first kiss was at age 14 in my parent's garage with a guy I didn't really even like- I mostly just wanted to get it over with & see what the big deal was. This particular event did not make for a good first impression. To this day, the sweet smell of spilled oil, seeing a beer can collection or an outdated calendar with a half-naked girl posing with car parts makes me a little misty. Sigh.
Oh Kurt, such sweet memories of you trying to simultaneously suck and swallow my face in one gulp. Sexy, sexy.

#4) I could read by age four. This doesn't necessarily mean I'm smart- I think I was just bored, and I like to be the first to do things. I'm competitive like that. I like to be the first in line, the first to get her period (age 12 as discussed in a previous post in detail), the first to have sex (age 16- first in my little group of friends), the first to get drunk (age 15 in Panama), etc... I consider this a disease only cured by further competition coupled with failure. Winning just encourages me, folks.

#5) In case you haven't noticed already...
I, cant' punctuate. To...save my; life! And? i was 'an english) major( in /college.!
Plus I really like to use run on sentences that go on and on and include lots of REALLY really reallys, lot of LOT'S's, and lots of really really interesting things that sometimes make sense and sometimes don't, but that's really not the point because of LOT of what I write is pure crap, me just rambling aimlessly about stuff that may be oh so fascinating to me, but not so much for you, but maybe for you, who knows?

#6) I can do this on command:







Yes, I am painfully aware of my magnetic beauty. I get that a lot.







#7) I somehow managed to turn my lifelong love of cooking into a pretty lucrative career. For a while, in my 20's, I started to worry that I would spend my life as middle-management at "Contessa's Cat Toy Nook" in Wherethehellami, Mn, or something equally challenging. Luckily, I signed up for cooking school kind of without thinking about it, aced the classes & had a pretty interesting 8-9 year run in the restaurant world. Now I teach at that school. Who's in charge now, ass monkeys? Huh? ME, that's who.
Word.

#8) I have mentioned this before, but it bears repeating:
I got married on a whim. Really. We were drunk when we got engaged. It was at the Anchor Bar in Superior, WI after a day of roller-skating at "World of Wheels". We didn't really think too much about it after the decision was made, In fact we pretty much thought it was a joke that we were taking WAY too far. I didn't really go crazy with wedding planning. I wanted to go to Vegas & have Elvis at the ceremony, he wanted to go to Vegas & have Elvis at the ceremony. Actually, I was hoping for fat, sweaty Elvis, and lucky me, I was NOT disappointed.
Other people wanted to go, but we didn't make anyone do it, we would have been fine on our own. 20 people came with us, which was nice, but I never wanted it to be a big deal. We laugh about it now, but we both were pretty much thinking, "well, why spend too much time & money on this as we probably won't make it more than a year". No biggie. I don't think we really saw it as a "permanent" thing.
Joke's on us, I guess.
Really more so on him though.

#9) I passed the SAT's in 6th grade. A group of us took it as an experiment to just "see" how we did. Shit, I could have gotten into any mediocre State College at age 12. I'm guessing they raised their standards a little after that one, as I do not even remotely resemble anything approaching "genius". I didn't really care about school, but always got A's & B's. Nothing special, to be sure. I am someone who couldn't assemble a garbage can from Ikea, even if it came with a how-to video. I'm tellin' you- Cletus the Slack-jawed Yokel could have passed.

#10) My mom died when I was 20. It was sudden and devastating. I still don't really like talking about it. But, this single thing has shaped the person I am now. One big event like this sets off many, many smaller events that, together, change everything you thought you knew, everything you thought you were, everything about the future you thought you had.
I'm not looking for sympathy here. People die every day. We've all had death shake it's ugly, bony finger at us. This just really is the one thing I can draw all the lines back to- some good, some, well...not so good.

It's just who I am, Interesting or not.

***************

In the spirit of the Meme, I'm supposed to tag 10 others to do the same- write 10 interesting things about yourself. I'm not sure I even know 10 people, total, but I'll list a few that I do:

Ms. Kate
Maurey
Feisty MN girl
Domestically Disabled Girl
Blah Blah Blahler
Sophie
Cathouse Teri

That's all I've got, I think anyone else I can think of has done this already. Do it if you want, don't if you don't. It is kind of fun though, and really, we all do love talking about ourselves.

Yes we do, my dears. Yes we do.

pride and prejudice...and prom

So in the further pursuit of complete and total personal humiliation, I am jumping on the "look at my scary prom pictures" bandwagon.
Again, I remind you, I have NO shame. Remember? Do you??
I sing and talk to myself at the grocery store, I wear inappropriate clothing to things like, oh...baptisms, weddings, funerals, work meetings, and just about any other event occurring on a daily basis in this thing called life. I dance while shopping (alone) sometimes.
I drink whiskey and do stupid/funny/gross/illegal things.
I go to prom in the 80's.
No. Shame.


Here we go.
This wasn't actually prom, but the winter "snowball" dance where the girls ask the guys. I kind of liked the goth-y guy I was with (on the far right) and had made out with him on occasion, but as you can see from the picture, my friend Scandia (blonde, far left) had ideas of her own that night. Turns out she liked him too. I never really ended up dating this guy, and I'm pretty sure I was still with my BF at the time, but I just didn't tell him about this event as I obviously wanted to go with someone short, surly and socially retarded, turns out.
The dress was $5 on clearance from Maurices. it dipped low in he back & had a big satin bow at the top of my butt. It was knee-length and actually pretty cute. Someone really should have talked to me about my hair though. I think I had some equation for "special" events where my hair height had to be exactly 1/2 the height of my head, or at least high enough to compete with Ms. Waffle's.
This was 1988.


This was prom, but not my prom. My BF, named Crew-Cut, went to the local private Catholic High School. He was a year older than me, so this was his senior prom. I REALLY didn't want to go to this, but I couldn't resist having a reason to put on something that consisted of approximately 45 yards of rouched taffeta. My Mom made this dress for me, as I wanted something Awesome and couldn't find the appropriately Awesome dress in any store. This dress was really hard to get on & off, which made for interesting back-seat-of-the-parent's-Volvo gymnastics later on.

Again, 1988.








Not only do I appear to be born of Dracula "a.k.a. creature of the night" here, but it seems that my head was being used as a host to grow Lindsay Lohan's future pubic hair.
Nice bush.

My parents wanted a pic outdoors, so I trudged out & posed with my sweet vintage heels sinking into the muddy dirt.

Asymmetric dresses rock.

And, I've said this before: Why did we not pluck our eyebrows at all in the 80's? I look like bride of caveman.

I still have this dress, and if I can squeeze into it, I'll post the picture here, I promise (I hope you haven't already forgotten the whole lack of shame thing).




I like to call how I looked for this, my senior prom, as "True tales of a teenage tranny"

Sweet Jeebus, I look like a man. Dressed badly like a woman.

And again with the rouching.
My Mom also made this dress as I once again had a "vision" of what I should wear to look hot, hot, hot.
Not, not, not.

You can't tell, but I also have extremely large earrings on here. They had large black & silver stones with little dangly things. Ick. Soooo 1989.

Waffle looks to have been overtaken by a costume from "The Little Mermaid- ON ICE!"

And still, a year later...no plucking of the furry caterpillars on our foreheads. Yikes.




My date, the sensitive "artist". I didn't even plan on going to prom, then like 2 weeks before the blessed day, my friends all notified me that they decided to go, after all. I mean, how could we miss PROM?
I really, really, REALLY didn't want to go the fucking prom with my BF who happened to be, like, 25 at the time. I can't believe he was so whipped he actually said yes & rented that frighteningly awful tux.
We smuggled vodka into the dance (at Spirit Mt., for those of you familiar) in sanitized, empty pump-type hairspray bottles. We were clever like that.

We did not, however get drunk.

No one got laid this night.

Actually, I think his is the point where I started kind of hating this guy & thinking of how to dump him. I was a real bad breaker-upper at the time, so I waited 6 months to do it at the yearly X-mas bash.
Yeah, I know. A real bitch.

I still have this dress too.
I think this weekend is going to include a little "hey honey, let's play prom!" time.
Or, alternatively, "let's have Whiskeymarie try to get the dresses on whilst tipsy and complain/cry when they don't fit" time!

Either way, fun for all...


P.S. I have a scanner now, so for a while you're going to have to put up with a lot of old pictures.
That's just how I roll, y'all.

Dirty old hoe

I am a gardening geek.
There, I said it.
This time of year, I faithfully inspect my beloved perennials daily- checking what actually survived the winter & what didn't. I'm checking to see if that crazy-looking Inula is popping back up (it is). Ditto the Bee Balm.
I'm weeding and planting, and trimming my bush. Um, I mean...bushes.
Think "Helen the horny housewife" meets "Victory Garden".




My favorite, the bleeding hearts, are starting to bloom.












And the rhubarb is already huge. Anyone need some?
Rhubarb crisp, pie, muffins...mmmm...


















Hello, Mr. Snapdragon.
I love you.











Yes, I know. My sappety, sap, sapness about my beloved plants destroys all images you may have of Ms. Whiskeymarie. Gone is the abrasive, pushy, drunk loudmouth. She's been temporarily replaced by a soft-spoken dirty hippie with dirt under her nails.

You tell anyone about this and I'm coming after you.

Happy May Day, Bitches!