Saturday, May 5, 2007

10 nothings ...

i have been tagged by wm to write 10 things about myself. in the past two and a half years, i've twice writen 100 things about myself with very little repeat between the two lists: the first, a raunchy collection of places i've pee'd and undergarments not worn, celebrities i abhor (hi art garfunkle! you ruined a sunday for me at barnes & noble!) and filthy contests i've won by degrading myself.

the second was a more pedestrian stroll through through my public radio-loving, crossword puzzle-doing, jeep-wanting, super potato ole-sucking, buffy the vampire slayer-quoting, pet peeveless psyche.

to put it mildly. i'm 10-things constipated. intestinal log jam. i've put myself through quizzes, introduced myself to strangers in my head; i can't shake much loose. but i'm going to step up to the proverbial can and see what comes out. i'll post in pieces as they come to me.

1. too shy shy hush hush eye to eye:
when i was wee, i was painfully shy. picture a domesticated puppy getting sidewalk burn on her ass as you try to coax her somewhere unfamiliar.

sitting outside of a birthday party in the backseat of my family car, i'd say "what if the party isn't really today? or what if i wasn't actually invited? what if this isn't molly's house?" if it was a slumber party, i'd call home around 10 p.m. and say i had a stomach ache and needed to leave.

i'm not sure when that changed, but it did in a big, fat obnoxious way. we're talking conga lines through bleachers and acting out the video for "like a virgin" outside of the locker rooms. i thought i'd licked the problem, but my mom would always say: "you're just overcompensating. you are still very, very shy."

maybe. maybe not. i do know that a few nights ago chuck and i went to the lotus for dinner. it was around 6 p.m. and the place was empty. our waitress brought us menus and asked us the standard fare of beverage queries and i was stricken a nodding, mute, big-eyed diner.

"i feel shy," i told chuck.
"i know," he said. "you're acting shy."

the feeling dulled when it was faced with spicy, spicy kung pao chicken. but it was there for a little bit.


whiskeymarie said...

Yeah, um...I feel obligated to pass the "tag" when it comes my way, but I feel dirty doing it. Kind of like if I was giving you a cute but incontinent dog for your birthday. Do one, do ten, do whatever.
I don't think it's like a chain letter where you'll lose all your hair or end up begging on the corner for beer money if you don't do it/pass it on.
At least I hope not...

christina said...

i like doing it, don't get me wrong. it is just requiring more thought than last time. but i've never grown tired of thinking of myself.