Wednesday, October 05, 2005

101 Things

I am technically a permanent resident of a Latin American country, although I haven’t lived there in over two years.
I make a mean guacamole
I have a curly-headed son
My son looks very little like me
My husband is quite the attractive chickenlegged person
I have written a number of songs
I graduated cum laude
I love peanut sauce- Señor Chickenlegs doesn’t even want peanut butter in the house
I enjoyed the time that Señor Chickenlegs was a Stay At Home Dad- perhaps a little too much. The floors were so shiny.
My sister in law was my maid of honour
I am trying to lose 25 lbs.
I am the proud owner of one orange kitty
I am a skilled ocean canoeist.
I have a relatively debilitating math phobia
I drive a cute and cheap little car
This is my first blog
I am inordinately proud of my book collection, and secretly wish more people would casually pursue the titles when they are in my living room
My idea of the perfect vacation is a backwoods camping trip ending with a night at a bed and breakfast at the end.
I worked at a summer camp for six years. I think that’s why parenthood didn’t totally freak me out. J
I have a bad habit of staying up to watch the Daily Show.
I am a virtual tea-totaller.
I am a political animal.
I blame my cellulite on my son- he’s too little to be offended.
One of my goals is to become a doula
I don’t like doilies of any kind
I own one of those dorky back massing chair-covers aimed at the over fifty set
I am most definitely not over fifty
I find the whole idea of Brazilian Waxes (as opposed to people from Brazil, which I think is a more apt description to suit the word Brazilian), quite creepy.
I have no desire to ever start my own business.
I have a terrible back.
I have been in a rainforest on each coast
I have seen the Northern Lights
I occasionally have fantasies about going to grad school
I desperately need to buy myself a new set of gee-tar strings
My son was born by emergency cesarian, with his umbilical cord wrapped around his foot.
I speak three languages and understand four
I have rather ugly, calloused, feet which, when left to their own devices, sport hairy, unseemly toes.
For some reason, there are about fifteen different bottles of shampoo in my bathroom cabinet.
I prefer red wine to white
I have never smoked a cigarette
I am currently trying to toilet-train my son
I am a bit of an insomniac
I have nice writing when I concentrate on it
I have lived in four provinces: British Columbia, Quebec, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.
I am capable of eating a disturbing amount of ice cream when provoked
I took my son to the zoo at 6 weeks old. A bobcat stalked him around his enclosure, and the monkeys were fascinated with him
I get cold easily.
I have grown dependent on paper towels
I know how to finger spell in ASL (American Sign Language)
My favourite drink is the Chai Latte.
I get depressed in winter
Against my better judgement, I have allowed a TV in our bedroom. Because I love Señor Chickenlegs.
I have a deep desire to rip up the wall to wall carpeting in our living room.
I want to be a good gardener, but in fact am a rather crappy one. It would seem I am only capable of tending to beings that object when you don’t tend to them (babies, cats, etc.)
I use Q-Tips to clean my ears. Every day. And I know it’s wrong, it just feels… so… good.
I desperately need to clean out my desk.
I just got an ironing board- BOO YAH, wrinkles, you can kiss my ass. I be ironing sheets, towels, underwear. I be MAD ironing. And ironying.
I laugh at the word “weinerschnitzel.” If indeed that is the correct spelling.
I always stop to smell the wild roses
I have a cell phone that I wish I could get rid of.
I knew my baby was going to be a boy before I was told. So did everyone else.
I laugh at friends who say things like: “if I had some extra money kicking around, I would buy an adult tricycle”, and are completely serious.
I have a terrible weakness for ice cream
I can’t stand it when people use “heart” as a verb. It’s a noun, people. NOUN.
I desperately want another child.
I am an intermittent leg-shaver.
I am a dirty hippy at heart, who makes regular perfunctory attempts at cleanliness
I love the smell of seasons changing
I have had four cats in my life, and all of them have been female. I do not like spraying. Who is housing all the male cats?
I rarely if ever wear makeup.
I am uncomfortable in high heels
The last play I went to see was the Vagina Monologues.
I am thoroughly sick of eating chicken, in all its forms
My son is not. In fact, it is his favourite food, and he requests it frequently.
I have now withdrawn all diaper privileges, in an attempt at shitting or getting off the pot re: toilet training. We shall see how this goes.
In the past year I have run into three childhood friends who, it would appear, now have raging cocaine habits. Nothing could make me sadder.
My father was a clown when I was a kid. Literally. There is no cooler profession for a parent to have at that age.
For some reason, we own a pair of binoculars that we never, ever use. I can’t figure out if they were given to us as a gift, or what. We really don’t do that much spying.
Can you tell I’m looking around my living room in search for things to say about myself?
I have never tweezed my eyebrows.
And while we’re on the topic… I only have about twenty armpit hairs under each arm. I’m a freak of nature, people, what can I say.
Pen stealers are the bane of my existence
I would like to be a trucker for a day, just so I can say: See you on the 10-4, buddy into a crackly communication device.
I look terrible in glasses. And hats.
I think men look wonderful in sarongs. All hail the sarong.
I always wake up with pins and needles in my arm. Always. Without fail.
I have an unendearing tendency of burning food, because I have a short attention span and always wander off to do something else.
I have a very bad back
Am I starting to repeat myself?
God, this is boring.
Okay, back on track, Compa: I floss infrequently but brush religiously
I enjoy watching KidsCBC.
My son looks like Poko.
I don’t like fish.
I own a used rowing machine which is gathering dust in my son’s closet.
There is Chinese writing in chalk on the underside of my coffee table.
It was like that when we got it.
And then I left it there.
99. Oh God I’m almost finished.
100. Do I get a shiny gold star for this?

1 comment:

Jerome Jackson said...

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