Category Archives: Humor

Some funny stuff…

So I Said to Myself, Self:

I sing to myself all the time. There is nearly always some song or other stuck in my head, on repeat, and it generally only fades away when another song has supplanted it. On rare occasions, listening to the entire song will cause it to fade at the last note, but that doesn’t work as often as I’d like it to. Much of the time I don’t mind, it’s like I have my own little sound track and I can usually switch tracks when I want to, though the auto-play often gets stuck on one particular song for days or weeks, and that can get incredibly annoying.

Sometimes I talk to myself, too. Sometimes I even argue with myself — and once in a while I win — but I usually save the heated arguments for when I’m alone, and I usually just let those play out in my head. (It’s worth noting, for those of you who know me on Facebook and saw that gem of a quote from Fred today, that he knew nothing about this blog entry, and most of this post, including the previous sentence, was written weeks ago.)  But the singing? I made a conscious decision a while ago not to keep the singing to myself, and I thought I’d tell you why. Just in case you run into me somewhere and wonder why I’m walking along singing, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I’m, you know, in public, and people — possibly including you — are looking at me funnily.

Here’s the thing. If a kid talks to himself while he’s playing alone, most people think it’s really cute. Adults nearby often sneak peeks, trying not to get caught watching, so they can catch a bit of what he’s saying when he doesn’t know anyone’s listening. Of course, if he did know the adult was there he may just go on exactly the same anyway, because he’s probably absorbed in his own little awesome world, but I digress. Why do we do this? Because it’s adorable, that’s why. But why is it so adorable?

Because we know that that kid is completely engrossed in his play, and completely free to follow his imagination, or work out his train of thought in the way that comes most naturally to him in that instance. He’s not burdened down with all of the rules and regulations that we’ve placed on our ridiculous adult lives, saying we can’t do this or that or the other because so-and-so is watching, or what’s-her-face might see, or the men in white coats may come to take us away. We call it the ‘innocence’ of childhood. And I think we stand there, listening, remembering days when we felt free to play out our imaginations out loud, unbound by unwritten rules that make us confine our mind til it’s left with no outlet but to ricochet endlessly off the inside of our skull whilst slowly driving us mad.

If an adult gets engrossed in something and starts talking to himself in public, barring some recent tragedy, people generally think he’s losing his sanity. Someone, somewhere, decided that talking to yourself after a certain age, means you’re ‘nuts’. Then someone else came along and jokingly decided that you’re only ‘nuts’ if you answer yourself back, and everyone laughed, and went on knowing that no, really, you just can’t talk to yourself in public.

Now, granted, there are some rules regarding self-talk that make sense. If you go talking to yourself all the time it’s going to annoy people around you if, say, they’re trying to watch a movie, or read a book, or hear a sermon, or cross a tight rope on a unicycle while balancing an egg in a spoon with their mouth. But does the general public require you to be silent while you’re getting your groceries, or sitting at the park, or checking your post office box? I mean, if you took your kid or your boyfriend or your grandma with you you’d probably be talking to each other a lot, surely one voice is less annoying than two.

So why does it disturb us so much to hear someone talking to himself past a certain age? I mean, it’s easier to get away with in the age of the cellphone, especially now that wireless earpieces are so popular and upstanding business people go walking down the street arguing with ‘themselves’ all the time. But you can bet most of the people they pass still do a double-take and immediately start looking for the device that makes this ‘okay’. Because if it turns out he’s not on a Blackberry or something, and he really is just arguing with himself, you can bet they’re gonna start walking a little faster.

When you really stop to think about it it’s a rather strange thing. What is so cute in little kids is somehow troubling in adults. The freedom we envy in our children we abhor in fellow adults. Apparently, growing up means you’re supposed to grow boring, kill your imagination, and stop being friends with yourself.

It’s all a little silly to me. Especially considering that some people, the few who have ‘proven’ themselves in some way, maybe by being rich, inventing something, having an enormous IQ, having a book on the best-seller list, get called eccentric and get a free pass on these kinds of rules, but anyone who hasn’t met some standard of proof — a standard which is also unwritten and ridiculously fuzzy — is considered ‘nuts’. You do get a free pass if there is audible music or you have headphones on and you’re singing.

I’d been thinking about these things for a while. I’ve also been working on my music quite a bit over the past few years, debating whether I should take this whole singing thing more seriously and consider trying to make a real album. I’ve been singing in church for years now, and practice is required, so I go around singing at home much of the time, and I’ve always sung along with the radio in my car. One day I was singing in my car and I got out to go into the little post office in our village. I would normally switch to humming, but it was after hours, if I remember correctly, and no one was around, so I just kept on singing. Someone walked in as I was there and caught me off-guard. I figured they had heard me when they walked on so I might as well keep on singing, so I just did.

And it was incredibly freeing.

I mean, at some point in my past I would have been worried about offending people’s ears, but I’ve been assured by most people I know that my singing voice is actually pretty, and since I almost always sing on-key the chances of making anyone double over in pain, or even cringe, seem fairly low. Unless of course, they’re offended by the lyrics, and I do try to stay conscious of the content and adjust my volume or hum the parts that I think might be somehow offensive to someone around me. But allowing myself to just sing when I want to sing, as long as it’s not going to be interrupting anyone or become an annoyance, has taken a burden off of me that I never even knew I was carrying.

So, if you see me singing to myself when I’m out and about just know that I’ve decided I don’t need to grow up in that particular way :P

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Filed under Humor, Music & Songs


I usually tell people that I don’t remember much before I was 8, and leave it at that.  The fact is, my personal memories are pretty spotty no matter what age.  I like to think of my collection of personal memories as a hunk of swiss cheese, fairly stinky, with a flavor that’s tolerable at times, but really doesn’t taste good, and is full of holes.

I’m sure that over the years I’ve internalized some of the stories I was told about my childhood, to make up for the lack of memories, so the collection may not be all mine, but I’ve been reminiscing a bit today so I figured I’d share some anyway.

I went through a phase where I refused to wear a swimsuit.  People called it a bathing suit.  You don’t bathe with a suit on.  You bathe naked.  I wasn’t going to wear a suit to take a bath, and just because you suddenly decided to start calling it a swimsuit doesn’t mean it’s purpose has changed.  Seeing as how I spent half of my childhood in swimming pools, I imagine this was a huge source of exasperation for my family.

I had a nightmare when I was 4 or 5.  One or both of my siblings was trying to steal my purple bubble gum from the top right drawer of my new yellow dresser.  I remember waking up to tell Mom that.  I remember being laughed at, even though I was upset and hurt.  I remember checking and finding my purple bubble gum was, in fact, missing.  I remember no one caring.  That’s my first and clearest memory from childhood.

I have a picture somewhere of my preschool class.  I was wearing a purse.  I found the purse a while back and put it in my toybox here for visiting kids to play with.  When Mom last saw the picture she chuckled and said something like “yeah, the teacher was exasperated because you always wanted to answer every single question and wouldn’t let anyone else have a turn”.  I don’t really remember preschool, but I remember being told to let other people answer… but the teacher kept asking “does anyone know…” so I kept raising my hand.  And if she asked us to call out answers I did.  I didn’t know what they expected, I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t know, when I did.  I wasn’t going to lie, and I didn’t want people thinking I was stupid just because the teacher didn’t like me knowing everything.  It’s not like she had to call on me just because I raised my hand.

My favorite toy was the sit’n’spin.  I would spin as long as I could, I’d get dizzy, fall off, give myself a moment to recover, then go right back to it.  I believe I had to be forbidden from riding them, because I kept trying long after I was too big to manage.  I also loved yoyo’s and spin toys and swings and pretty much anything else with perpetual motion.

I spent a lot of time in Dr offices, because I fell all the time.  If I wasn’t injured again I was seeing yet another specialist to try to figure out why I kept getting injured.  Mom used to take her knitting and I took my sketch pad.  An artist I was not, but I liked to try to draw things as true-to-life as possible.  I was great with fish tanks and still life, I was okay with animals.   I failed miserably at drawing people.  I couldn’t draw a face to save my life.  It drove me nuts.

I liked numbers, and I made a game with myself to memorize them.  I had memorized most of the phone numbers I’d ever heard, and on the way into building I’d often take note of a license plate or two and see if I could remember them on the way back out.  Somehow Mom figured out I was doing this at some point, so she joined in and would quiz me on them.  Of course, she didn’t write them down, and couldn’t remember them herself, so she never would have known if I was wrong.

I used to wear jean skirts all the time.  One day on the way home from the bus a girl from the neighborhood thought it would be fun to pull my skirt up.  I stopped wearing skirts after that, for the most part.  Any piece of clothing that offers so little protection that a split second decision by a bully can leave you walking down the street with your underwear flapping in the breeze is just not practical or decent.  Considering how often I was falling, I think that incident just drove home the realization that skirts were not for me.

When I was in the 5rd grade I was put in a classroom on the third floor.  My 5th grade teacher had been my 3rd grade teacher previously, and she was a great teacher then.  But the third floor meant stairs after stairs after stairs.  3 flights up, three flights down, up in the morning, down for recess, up for class, down for lunch, up for class again… all of those stairs kicked off the initial exacerbation of my peripheral neuropathy, but we didn’t have a diagnosis then.  I just knew that I was falling, a lot.  And every time I got one injury healed I’d get another.  Those stairs were hard for me, and it broke my heart when the teacher I loved sneered at me and said “come on, granny” when I took too long getting up the stairs one day.  She later got mad at me for having to use crutches once again.  I think she thought I was injuring myself just to punish her.

Rounding drove me nuts.  Not because I have a problem with rounding, but because people tended to do it in the most bizarre circumstances.   Ask someone what time it is, and they might say 4:15 or “quarter past 4”.  It may be 4:12 or 4:20, but somehow it made sense to them to round it to 4:15.  It never made sense to me.  You don’t save time by saying 4:15 instead of 4:12.  Over the years I’ve learned to make these strange conventional roundings by habit, and to get a feel for when people want them, but it always seems bizarre to me.  I most especially remember driving my ex-sister-in-law nuts with this issue.  When someone asked the time, and she rounded, I always felt the need to let them know the actual time.  I couldn’t understand why she had to round.  She couldn’t understand why I didn’t understand that rounding was correct.

I have always preferred to be on the outside looking in.  Especially where people are involved.  When we had large family gatherings I used to hide under my grandpa’s old desk.  I’d pull the chair in after me so no one knew I was there.  That way I could just sit back and listen to the muffled sounds of the hustle and bustle of a large family gathering, without being accosted by it.  I felt safe there.  Usually a cousin would eventually find me and assume I was playing hide-and-go-seek, and then my fun was over.

At my other grandma’s house I used to love to sit up on the stairway and listen to everyone downstairs.  We played a lot of board games there, and she had these little plastic containers that she kept the marbles and dice in.  We used to shake them because the sound was cool.  I think my favorite sound in the whole world was hearing someone downstairs shaking  one of those, and the sound echoing up through the stairway.  I also loved the sound she made when she was ‘shuffling’ her dominoes on the kitchen table.

I did not understand why people cried at movies.  The people on tv, on screen, in fictional books, in plays, were just acting.  I got this concept, but no one else seemed to.  They wanted me to cry after watching sad stories, but they were stories.  They were not real.  Why should I get upset over something that someone made up?  So they kept trying.  They kept showing me sad movies, this one will make you cry.  But it was just a made up story, too, there was no reason to cry.  (For the record, I now cry at the drop of a hat, but that’s another story.)

When I was in 6th grade I had a nerve biopsy.  The nerve conduction studies were enough to make it clear that I had a peripheral neuropathy, but my symptoms did not match my test results, and they were baffled.  They wanted to study me, so they convinced us to let them take a hunk of nerve out of my ankle.  It wasn’t hard to convince me, I got the doctor to agree to setting up a mirror so I could watch, that was all I needed.  It was cool to watch, especially when my nerve wasn’t even in the right place and he had to dig around for a long time to find it.  He showed it to me afterwards, it looked like a fat piece of spaghetti, shredded and bloody, stapled to a popsickle stick and stuck in a jar.  Unfortunately, he wouldn’t let me keep it.

My guidance counselor at school apparently decided that that was a good time to talk to me about the whole disability issue.  I’d moved schools several times because of it.  I’d had special notes for gym for years.  But apparently they just then realized maybe I needed counseling, so she called me in to talk to me.  I think she asked how I felt.  I responded “weird” because that had become my stock answer.  She questioned me further and I explained that everyone is weird in some way, some more than others.  She asked about my best friend, I assured her that Jenny was weird, too.  She eventually asked if I thought she was weird, I believe my answer was “YES!”.  She never called me in to talk to me again.


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Filed under Disability, Humor, Personal

Drinking on the job…

I got “called on the carpet” at church tonight.  Last Friday it seemed to me there were too many people up on stage trying to pick out worship songs, and not enough people in the pews praying, so I decided this week I’d hang back and pray instead.

Over the course of the week I apparently forgot the why and just remembered I wanted to hang back.  I got there a few minutes late anyway, and just slipped into a back pew and made myself as comfortable as possible.  I got a few looks from people that were obviously trying to figure out what I was doing sitting down there in stead of going up on stage, but I just smiled and nodded at them and stayed put.

After a couple more songs the pastor looked back, noticed that I was taking a drink out of my water bottle and said, “I see Tammy’s back there drinking on the job”.  Doh!  I managed to keep from spewing my water everywhere… My first reaction was to muse at how clever he had been, then I got just a little offended.  When I thought about it a bit more, though, I realized he had been exactly right, probably without intending to be.

I remembered then that my intention had been to sit in the back and cover the service in prayer instead of singing… and instead I was doing neither.  So while everyone wondered why I didn’t take the cue to come up on stage, after such obvious prodding, I sat back and started praying fervently…

After a while someone all but ordered me up there, so I did go up and sing a song or two, then settled back to praying.  The resulting service was much better, I think, jesting aside, so I think I’ll make a regular habit of staying back to pray.  I suppose I should talk to the pastor about it before the next service, though :P

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Filed under Humor, Personal

I annoy me

For the past couple of days I’ve second-guessed everything I’ve started to post, everything I’ve done or thought of doing… Gah, even this post is a dumb idea…

Do you ever just get on your every last nerve?


Filed under Humor

My friends never stood… downwind!

A friend on Twitter started doing  Random Tip Tuesday posts and I thought it was a great idea, so I’m being all rude and being a copy cat  I’m sharing a tip of my own today.  I’ll not do this anymore, I feel bad already, I’m sorry.  You should go read hers.

In any case, my parents are good about coming up with the most bizarre suggestions, and this time one of them totally paid off, so I figured I’d share.

A few years ago the green beans we grew were a little more gas-inducing than usual, and Mom was apparently complaining about this to a friend (because who doesn’t want to talk about flatulence with their friends?), who suggested she drop a carrot in the pot next time she cooked up a mess.  Mom thought this sounded odd, but after a while I guess she tried it, and pretty soon she was bragging to me about how much it worked.

I didn’t believe it, but I did try it next time I made beans & cornbread, and was blown away.  

It turns out, if you throw a few baby carrots into a pot of beans while they’re cooking, you can have friends over the next day without being nicknamed Pumba.

And better yet, it seems to work in everything I’ve tried.  I usually have baby carrots around, so I throw 1-3 in a pot, depending on how much I’m cooking.  So far it works with all types of beans I’ve tried, and onion soup.  You can even eat the carrots later, if you’re like me and can’t stand to waste food, but Mom just picks them out and throws  them away before serving the dish.

A certain friend tells me that ginger works just as well, but I can’t stand ginger, and carrots don’t effect the taste of the dish at all (that I can tell).

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Filed under Humor, Tips & Advice

8 things I love about being snowed in…

I’m snowed in.  I don’t know what you picture when you think "snowed in", but since I can’t actually shovel snow, and since I have a front-wheel drive car and a gravel driveway, for me it means "hm, if I back out into that my car is probably gonna get stuck".  Right now it means about 10", give or take.

Most people don’t seem to like this, but most of the time I find it incredibly comforting… I’ve been rather depressed lately, though, so I’m breaking even about now.  In an effort to cheer myself up a bit more, here’s a list of things I love about being snowed in…

  1. This much snow provides natural insulation.

    It’s been insanely cold lately.  And I hate cold.  Cold makes my nerves scream, my joints ache, and even slightly cold temperatures cause all of my digits to freeze.  Cold is the main reason I left Ohio and swore I’d never come back here.  I moved no less than 4 times trying to find a place that was consistently warm, and once I found it I ended up having to move back to this place of torturous winters anyway, for financial reasons.

    In any case, it’s been cold, really cold, which has made me grumpy, really grumpy!  But snow, in sufficient quantities, provides my house with an extra layer of insulation, and with the added help the insane drafts cease and my stupid baseboard heaters can actually manage to heat the house to something resembling living conditions.

  2. Snow is beautiful, especially when it’s deep.
  3. It gives me an excuse to say "No".

    If I had my way, I would hibernate.  I would gather enough food for the winter, lock myself in, and come out sometime in the spring when all this nasty cold was gone and my pain levels returned to something I could manage.  Other people do not like that, though.

    Despite my uncanny knack for scaring some people away and creeping others out, I somehow still always find myself in positions that require me to socialize during the winter months.  

    It also doesn’t help that Christmas and Thanksgiving both fall during the time I would prefer to be hibernating.  There’s no way I’m gonna miss a chance, if at all possible, to go play with my nieces and nephews… I will brave all kinds of weather for that.

    But being snowed in gives me a real, solid, unavoidable excuse to back out of unnecessary trips and social events, and I love it.

  4. I can look out the window and dream of building snowmen.

    For as long as I’m snowed in, I have endless opportunities to look out the window and think "Wow, it’s so beautiful.  Maybe if I’m feeling better tomorrow I’ll throw on a coat and go play in it a bit."  That never happens, of cour

  5. Time slows down.
  6. Something about being snowed in always makes time seem to go just a bit slower.  There’s no "I guess I have to run to the store tomorrow" to take up your time.  There’s no "I have to get to the post office" (although I will have to try to make a trek to my mailbox at least, if I’m gonna get these packages to people in time for Christmas, ugh).  The list of things that have to get done gets cut to the things that you can do within your own home, and time seems to spread out a bit.

  7. No one’s encroaching on my schedule.
  8. I do not keep a normal schedule.  I require at least an average of 10 hours of sleep per night, and I live in a lot of pain.  I learned a long time ago that I have absolutely NO interest in laying in bed hurting, so I stay up until I can tell that I’m on the verge of exhaustion before I try to lay down.  Most nights this means I fall asleep immediately, but I don’t even try to lay down until the wee hours of the morning.  This puts me waking up in mid or late afternoon.

    As much as I would love to be above ‘peer pressure’ I just care too much about what others think.  I live in a farming community, which means that most others think I’m a lazy do-nothing slob for sleeping into the afternoon.  

    And so I have tried, and failed, many many times, to re-adjust my schedule, with absolutely no success.  If I go to bed early, I either lay there in pain for hours, or my body just takes the extra time for more sleep.  If I stay up all night, intending to go to bed at a normal time the next night, my body really rebels and I wake up 2 days later.   

    But when I’m snowed in, all bets are off.  I don’t have to care if someone’s hoping I’ll be at church on a Sunday morning, since I can’t get there anyway.  I won’t get weird looks from people if I wander into the grocery shore at 1am to start shopping, and I won’t have to deal random family members look at me in disgust after asking what time I got up today.

  9. I don’t feel guilty for not shoveling.
  10. As I mentioned before, I can’t shovel.  I used to torture myself by trying to shovel anyway, and I would manage to some extent, but not enough to really matter.  The last time I tried I’m pretty sure I nearly had a heart-attack, and I have a really bad habit of falling when I’m outside in snowy/icy conditions.  Since I’ve fallen indoors at least 6 times in the past two months, and since my arm has gotten so bad I can’t lift a jug of milk without fear of dropping it, it would be absolutely insane for me to try to shovel my walks.

    But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty about it.  Every time someone comes to deliver a package or try to convert me to their insane cult I feel guilty about not having my sidewalk and porch shoveled and salted.  

    But when I’m snowed in, it’s impossible to even tell where my driveway is (my brother bought me some of those reflectors that you’re supposed to line your drive with, but I always forget to put them out before the ground freezes).  The cultists stay away, and usually so do the package delivery guys… so there’s no one to worry about.

  11. Snow tastes yummy.
  12. Okay,  you don’t have to be snowed in for that one.

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Filed under Humor, The Great Outdoors

Bizarre Evening

So I went to church this morning, and the family that does worship on Sunday mornings made the following announcement: “Not this next Sunday, but the one after that, we’ll be singing at such-and-such church and would love it if ya’all wanted to show up and worship with us.”

The church I go to doesn’t have Sunday evening services, which I hate because that’s the service I’m most likely to be able to attend on a regular basis… so, I’ve been kind of going to different area churches every Sunday evening just to fill the time. Hearing this I thought, great! A place to go.

Once I got home I lost my mind and convinced myself that they had said they were going to be there *tonight*. I couldn’t remember what time tonight though, so I tried to call the pastor, who didn’t answer his phone, so I figured it had to be either 6 or 6:30 and off I went. I got there at 6, and no one was there, and the sign said service was at 7, so I went wandering around town to blow time, and got a big shake at UDF.

Here’s where the evening got interesting lol. I went back to that church around 6:30, and decided to just read some while I was waiting… 6:45 came and no one was there yet, but this is Ohio, so I figured maybe it’s just one of those churches where everyone’s always running late instead of early.

At around 6:50 one car pulled in. Two old guys walked up and peeked around the back of the car towards my open window and one said “can we help you?”. This seemed like a rather odd question at a church on Sunday evening, but I just told him I got there early and was waiting because so-and-so was supposed to be singing there tonight. To which he answered “Uhm, I don’t think so”. I explained better who it was, and he said “Oh, they’re supposed to be here on the 23rd I think”.

Me: “Oh. uhm. well… are you sure?”
Him: “Well you might as well join us anyway”

So I went in. I’m not all that observant, and didn’t realize until I shook his hand that he only had half of his right hand and a hook on the left… shaking three fingers felt a little strange lol. He had to be in his 80s. The other guy is (I found out later) almost 87.

They were the ONLY two people there! Had I not been there, I imagine they would have talked a bit and went home or something, but since I was there.

Him: “Well, I wasn’t going to preach tonight, and the guy that normally does on Sundays called to say he won’t be coming. You don’t preach do you?”
Me: “Uh… no. I can sing but I don’t preach (literally lol).”
Him: “Oh, you sing?!?…”
Me: “Uh, yeah, some.”
Him: “Well, you wanna sing? Morris sings some…”

So I spend the evening singing random hymns (thumbing through hymnals and song booklets trying to find songs that we all (or at least two of us) knew. Most bizarre, but it actually turned out to be fairly fun. I’m always up for singing, and since there were only two of them I didn’t really feel on the spot…

I think they appreciated having someone else there, especially since, as it turns out, they had to drive over 45 minutes to get to the church tonight.

So they’re hoping I come back lol

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Filed under Disability, Humor, Music & Songs

Ever had a knife thrown at you?

I almost forgot to blog about this, but it was so bizarre I just can’t pass it up.

At the craft fair this weekend I was sitting there talking with a customer and the lady from the booth across the way, and a KNIFE came flying at us!! It came within a foot of my customer’s calf, and ended up landing underneath my wheelchair (thank God I was using my solid tires that day). Apparently the guy in a booth about 25 feet away THREW it our direction… we didn’t believe what it was at first, but after my customer picked it up and we all realized it was, indeed, the knife it had looked like, our jaws dropped and we stared in the general direction it had come from.

When I said “uhm, did someone just THROW a KNIFE at us?!?” some lady said “uhh, I think he was trying to hit a fly”. A FLY?!?! I know I’m in hick country, but good glory.

I’m still astounded.

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Filed under Humor, Rants

I never do this, but

I felt like doing it this year…

1. What did you do in 2006 that you’d never done before?
I signed papers on a house, got a product featured on a blog, and turned down the biggest retail opportunity of my life.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I never do new year’s resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
A cousin did.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No one close, a few extended relatives and a friend’s father.

5. What countries did you visit?
heh, none.

6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
Enough money to stop hiding from creditors and live comfortably.

7. What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Dates almost never remain etched in my memory, because my memory sucks.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting along with my mother (for the most part).

9. What was your biggest failure?
Another year without a local friend.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

11. What was the best thing you bought?

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
Nothing stands out.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
The american public, following like sheep to the slaughter house.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Blocks & bills.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
The opportunity I ended up having to turn down.

16. What songs will always remind you of 2006?
I never remember songs by year.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. Happier or sadder? uhm, I don’t know, probably sadder
ii. Thinner or fatter? same
iii. richer or poorer? poorer

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
(n/a already over)

21. Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?
Stupid question for anyone that knows me.

22. Did you fall in love in 2006?
uh, no.

23. How many one-night stands?

24. What was your favourite TV program?
For lack of cable: House, M.D. and Bones

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

26. What was the best book you read?
Don’t remember.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
What’s a musical discovery?

28. What did you want and get?
A color laser printer, burning tools, and a lot of really needed Christmas presents.

29. What was your favourite film of this year?
Uhm, I haven’t seen more than 2 or 3, so i’d have to say Cars, which I got for Christmas.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Cookout, 27.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?
fashion? lol

34. What kept you sane?
sane? lol

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
fancy? lol

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
ugh, the entire political front is full of equally disturbing issues, let’s just say the total abandonment of the constitutional concept of freedom and unalienable rights.

37. Who did you miss?
my best friend and my grandmother

38. Who was the best new person you met?
uhm, a cute little boy at church named Sammy

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006:
Intelligence is completely useless in this society.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
“Home, let me go home (why don’t you let me go home?) this is the worst trip, I’ve ever been on.”
that sums up my entire life.

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