taggity

That darn roro has done it again - but seeing as how I skipped the last tag, I feel sort of honour-bound to reply to this one. 'Sides, I do weird things, this should be easy.

Hear ye, hear ye - 5 weird things about me. Although, as roro said, "what I consider weird, others might consider repulsive, obsessive compulsive or merely embarrassing." To that list I would like to add "plain stupid". Ahem:

1. Socks. I hate 'em. More specifically, I hate the seams that run along the toes. What MADMAN thought that was a good idea? It used to take me hours to get my shoes on when I was a kid (and boots people - I grew up in northern Ontario and Manitoba!). My poor parents. Luckily I learned to verbalize pretty darn quick. "Sock! Wong! Fix!"

2. I dig trashy novels. The very trashiest. Not even those John Grisham-esque crime novels, which at least use bigger words than "gown" and "rebel" and (sigh) "honour". That's right, I'm talking Harlequin romances, people. Better yet historical romances. I could suck back two of 'em in a lazy Saturday afternoon with nary a bed-head hair out of place--and there's an entire mostly-hidden bottom shelf on my bookcase as evidence. But come on, is there any better escape than pure trash? I think not. Then again, maybe it's just the juxtaposition of my bedhead, pyjamas and toast crumbs with the lofty, ridiculous romance. I know I'm not an idiot - I stand by my choices. But not enough to read them on the streetcar.

3. Stuffed animals. Got no use for them. There is one solitary stuffed thing in my apartment, and that's a Mr. Henke, the Christmas Poo. And listen up, PaGa - he was a present from my Aunt, so I don't care how grody you think he is, he's sticking around for a while yet. Sticking around...ewww...

4. The single solitary object of furniture I dream of buying when I can afford it (and more importantly, have space for it) is a big huge kitchen table. I don't want anything particularly fancy, I just want something I can cram ten or so of my friends around for vicious games of spoons or scrabble or some other game that starts with "s".

5. It takes me a really long time to wake up in the morning. If I want to get anything along the lines of ironing or breakfast or lunch-making done, on TOP of the usual bathing stuff, I have to give myself at least two hours. I'd say a good 50 minutes of those hours are spent just spacing out (a la office space), but I digress. One morning last week I snuck down into the basement of my building in my underwear because I'd left my pants in the dryer the night before. I didn't realize 'til I was halfway there that these were COMMUNAL halls I was traipsing through ...thank god the dudes who live upstairs were nowhere to be seen.

There you have it. Whoa crazy. Can you handle it. So now I tag - cupcake,andromachebrie, amigos (perhaps a combined effort?) and hairstick gal. No pressure folks, but I know you're all freaks who are DYING to share your freakiness with the three other people who read my blog. Bring it. It's so already broughten.