Sunday, March 16, 2008

Tagged. A Meme

I’ve been tagged by Chris, The Accidental Housewife. There are rules, and I’m supposed to post them, and to tag other people, but I am chain-letter death. I’m not doing any tagging, particularly as there are no macabre examples of people who didn’t tag stepping off the curb and being killed by a speeding smart car full of clowns or something similarly gruesomely humiliating that chain letters used to say would happen if you didn't make seven copies and send them on. I require threats for proper motivation. Anyway, I'll make it eight things and hope there's no karmic retribution for being lame. Obviously, if you don't like memes, now is the time to click away.

1) My family had a Canada goose named Rover (because he was like a dog and followed us everywhere) as a pet. The story of how we got him is long-ish, but we were not even remotely involved in stealing a gosling away from his mother. We taught him to swim, fly, and apparently, how to be The Bad Boy That Chicks Dig. The nice domesticated white goose next door fell in loooove with him, and trailed after him longingly (she even learned to fly for him, although she never did quite get the hang of steering, which meant things like trees were… a problem for her). Unfortunately, he was the goose equivalent of the bad boy in a leath-uh jacket. He was awful to her. If she tried to eat before he was done with his dinner, he would pull her tail feathers out. Rover was a bad boyfriend, but he was an awesome pet.

2) I am a non-Catholic Mexican-American WASP who grew up in a largely Jewish community. That’s not the start of a joke about me walking into a bar with a duck (or goose) under my arm. It’s just me.

3) I am very good at making a pathetic, sad face. Ninja good (remember how I said my mom makes a Doomed Baby Harp Seal Face? Probably not, but suffice it to say, it’s an inherited talent). Unless you are a family member (they’re all completely immune to my face, but not my mom’s), when I deploy The Eyes O’ Guilt, you will find yourself offering to make it up to me for being an awful, awful person. Many years ago, we were in Zimbabwe. There was a bank strike and my husband-to-be and I had no local currency. I told him to stand out of the sightlines of the bank and then stood there, alone, in front of the doors, looking forlorn and stricken, until the tellers conferred, decided that un-striking for a few minutes was not really going to hurt anybody and let me in to change money. At which point I said: “can my fiancée change money, too?” And they gave me the look people give you when they know they’ve been had (baleful). Yes, I do this sort of thing to kind, unsuspecting folks and then turn around and call Girl Scouts names. I have mentioned that I am a hypocrite. I usually save this power for things like bank strikes. And speeding tickets (see item 7). I haven’t used it in a while, so who knows, maybe it’s gone away. I’ll have to try it out on someone, just to check.
4) I can drive a forklift. It’s been a long time since I have done so, and given the job that gave me cause to learn to drive one (working in an unheated warehouse with the boss’s recovering crack addict brother, who I picked up at a Burger King in south Seattle on the way to work. Gooood times.), I don’t find myself hoping to drive one again any time soon.

5) I am a derelict magnet.

6) I don’t always have the best parenting judgment (this is probably not a surprise to anyone but me). I hate most children’s music (seriously, how many times can you listen to the Barney song and not want to commit some kind of felony and/or misdemeanor?). So I play oldies for the kids: Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Ella Fitzgerald, the Beach Boys, etc., etc. Everyone thought this was a cute, wholesome alternative until, when my boy was about three, my husband walked into the kitchen and my boy was boogy-ing away and singing to himself. This was still considered tres cute until my husband realized what he was singing, which was: “Who’s Making Love to Your Old Lady.” Oops. Also, my dad (see? I inherited things from both my parents) taught my boy to play poker, and when my boy was learning to count, at first he would say, “eight, nine, ten… jack, queen, king.” You can imagine how well that went over with the other preschool moms, particularly combined with his choice in songs.

7) I might have had a little problem with speeding. I am trying to get over it. It is possible that I have been pulled over in... around 10 different states and 3 countries, but I try not to keep very close count; that kind of compulsive insistence on precision just creates a negative… aura, don’t you think? The Eyes O’ Guilt and plain old common courtesy have, however, allowed me to get tickets in less than 10 states and 3 countries (I have a grudge against Nebraska FOREVER because of the circumstances surrounding that ticket). Just for reference, a ticket in Montana only costs like, $25, you can pay it on the spot and the officers are quite nice. Handy!
8) One of my childhood nicknames was Maggot. I still answer to it. Not surprisingly, with a nickname like that, I have always been fairly immune to trash-talking.
Once again, many thanks to for their images. And once again, I have to agree with them. It is quite rude to club an unsuspecting baby harp seal to death; please don't.


franki durbin said...

the more I read, the more I like you. something tells me I'm about to bring a little rebel of my own into my world. we'll deliver our little girl in 5 weeks and all I can think of is how to download the clean versions of Jay-Z's Blueprint onto my ipod to play in the car. In my opinion a happy mom is better than an insane mom.

Which brings me to the speeding... yes, I'm a leadfoot as well. That'll have to come to a quick halt....but it's just WAY too much fun to not shed a few tears over ;)

Meg said...

Thanks, Franki. It's hard not to speed, isn't it? And it is so, so fun. Finally, though, I had to agree with the trooper in Idaho when he looked at the kids in the back and pointed out that it wasn't worth the risk. Sigh.

cook eat FRET said...

raised amongst jews...

so very obvious to me
and i mean that in a good way...

Meg said...

Claudia- it would never occur to me to take that as anything but a compliment.

chris said...

How rude of me to tag you and then not read your blog (in my defense, I haven't been reading any blogs as I am sleep deprived). Anywho, Maggot, eh? That's a bad one.

Have a wonderful time in Italy. I can't wait to read all the details.

PS: My son and I sing a (clean up) version of Superfreak all the time.

Meg said...

Chris- I was reading your blog and thinking about sleep deprivation and how much it sucks. But, yeah, Maggot. So being called a whore is, well, perhaps less troubling to me than it might be to other people.