I live in mortal fear of the unknown thing or things that live under my bed.
Each night after I turn out the light, I have to make a harrowing journey to the bed. I’m fine getting across the room, but once I reach the foot of the bed I start moving a little faster. I’m pretty sure my heart rate increases, but I wouldn’t know for sure because I’m distracted. Waiting for the hand. The cold, strong hand that I know is going to reach out and grab my bare ankle. Oh, I know it’ll happen. And even though I’ve prepared myself for the experience, even though I know it’s an inevitability, I’ll still probably pee a little.
I give people nicknames.
I tend to give nicknames to people who aren’t in the inner circle (with the exception of my friend Morgan). I don’t know why I do it. Sometimes it’s because I can’t remember/don’t know someone’s name and I need some way to refer to them. Sometimes it’s out of admiration. More often, it’s out of disdain. Some examples of my nickname-giving prowess: Stretchy Pants, Mashed Potato Girl, TMM (Thoroughly Modern Morgan), Nantucket, Arthur (for a small, drunk woman), the Hobbit and one of my most imaginative – Dickhead.
Sometimes I just…know things.
Call it ESP or being cuckoo or whatever, but I occasionally know things that are beyond my realm of experience. This doesn’t apply to lottery tickets.
I have a huge crush on Jon Stewart.
I don’t typically credit entertainers with having a direct impact on me, but I make an exception for Jon Stewart. He just breaks down the stupidity in a way I’ve never seen before. Especially during interviews. One recent segment that stands out to me is when he talked to Mike Huckabee about gay marriage. He’s thoughtful, concise, funny, smart and he has balls.
|The Daily Show With Jon Stewart||Mon – Thurs 11p / 10c|
|Mike Huckabee Pt. 2|
I once went on something called “the burger journey.”
My friend Dennis and I decided to try all (well, most) of the wonderful burger shacks inside the loop a few years ago. This was to be a Thursday lunch excursion. The first week was just the two of us. Then the second week there were three. And then four. By about week 15, there were ten or twenty people meeting in the lobby of the Alley and bombarding Mom and Pop burger joints with way more business than they could handle. Fast forward a few years, and here I am. Haven’t had a burger or fried potato since July. My last meal, as it were, was at a place out in the country. And it was truly one of the best burger/tots meals I’ve ever eaten. Thanks, Mr. Walsh.
Okay – that was only five, and I was supposed to do seven. My lunch break is over. And, really, haven’t you had enough of this bullshit?
Please feel free to leave random facts about yourself in the comments.