More Random Trivia Guaranteed to Bore You

Friday, January 30, 2009

In answer to a tag from my beloved friend Heather, here are 25 random facts about me. I pondered long and hard to try and think of information not readily known to the 2 people that read this blog. Sadly most things people did not already know are either not-very-well hidden neuroses or negligible facts from my childhood. Enjoy. Or take a nap. I recommend the nap, for what it's worth.

1. I have serious textural issues. There are certain things I can't touch without jumping about, retching and much shame-inducing girly ado. Some examples are: Any food bits left in the sink after washing dishes - I have to fill a bowl or cup with water and splash it down the drain. Cold wet washrags/sponges - I seriously pinch the eensiest bit of the corner and I can get and fling it under the hot water before I can pick it up.

2.I hate turtlenecks. I don't remember which comedian said it, but he expressed my feelings perfectly. "Wearing a turtleneck is like being choked by a really weak midget all day."

3.Whenever I sit down to work on TEH BOOK I am writing, I can't manage a single word unless my kitchen is immaculately clean.

4. I can only eat a tomato when it's been freshly cut. If it's been sliced then put in the fridge overnight, I won't touch it.

5. When I make a sandwich, I have to put the lettuce between the tomato and the bread. If the tomato juice gets onto the bread, I have to pinch the piece of bread off and put it to the side.

6. I was obsessed with koalas when I was a kid. I had koala t-shirts, mugs, puzzles, socks, stuffed animals, you name it. I had a secret plan to run away to Australia and start a koala farm. How I was going to generate or maintain capital from said farm I have know idea. I only know that I was going to feed my koala friends eucalyptus leaves and ride them around on my back all day.

7. When I'm severely stressed out, I've been known to watch kid shows on TV (usually things on PBS. Caillou, Arthur, Reading Rainbow, etc.) or read young adult books (Goosebumps, anything R.L. Stine.) It's the equivalent of a Ferris wheel ride and cotton candy for my brain.

8. I've always hated Kool-Aid, even when I was just a sprout. To me it just tasted like crappy flat soda. Now I know that Mr. Kool Aid is just a tubby cover for a child-friendly brand of crack cocaine, I feel my ire more than justified.

9. I'm a repeater. I fixate on a particular song and play it over and over and over. Then I wake up one morning, realize I now hate the song, and move on to another.

10. One of my legs is 1.5 inches shorter than the other. It's not terribly noticeable until you look at my jean cuffs. The gimpy leg cuff is always dirty scraped and scuffed. The normal leg cuff usually never touches the ground.

11. My regular body temperature is usually between 95 and 96 degrees. I have suspicions that I am, in fact, a reptile masquerading as a human being. Ssssshhh!

12. I had four different majors during my college education. I originally applied as an English major. On a whim, the day of registration, I changed to fine arts since all the English major classes were filled. Following my first semester in college, after enduring the not so divine tutelage of a particular puke-faced professor, I decided that art was not for me after all and switched to psychology. Over the summer, it became readily apparent that I was by far the most mental person I know and probably ought not be dispensing psychological advice, and so I switched back to fine arts. After gallivanting through Europe in the summer of 2000, I decided art history was for me.I graduated in that field with a master's and have managed to stay largely un-useful to the general population ever since.

13. My given name is Cynthia, but growing up, my parents spelled my nickname Cindy. Feeling what I thought to be a streak of rebellion (later investigations revealed said streak to be latent nerdiness and a closet fixation for Cyndi Lauper), I started spelling it Cyndi. It stuck. I still spell it that way, but inherently, every other human being on earth spells it Cindy. I've grown too apathetic to correct anyone anymore. Meh.

14. Though I usually test 20/20 and 20/15 on vision tests, I am actually far-sighted. This means I can often see random things way in the distance but my eyes throw a hissy anytime they are required to read something close for extended periods of time. Oh they can do it alright, they just don't like to do it. For this reason, I usually help them out by wearing geeky reading glasses to help prevent eye strain as I sit parked in front of my laptop 9 hours a day.

15. I'm not a big fan of ice cream. Given, there are exceptions. Godiva's chocolate raspberry truffle or Haagen Daz creme brulee for example. But given a choice, I'd typically take just about any other dessert option.

16. When I was seven or eight years old, I had a massive crush on Mark Summers. Back then he was the host of Double Dare (my favorite show at the time.) I dreamed that we would get married and live in a house that contained an exact replica of the Double Dare obstacle course. Am I weird that I still think that would kick ass? Not the married to Mark Summers part, the obstacle course in my garage part. Yeah, I thought so.

17. I love burnt food. Burnt toast, burnt popcorn, burnt cheese on the pizza crust, etc. you burn it, I'll snarf it. When toasting a marshmallow, I carefully roast it to a perfect golden brown, then at the last minute, set it on fire, blow it out, and scarf it. Nom nom nom.

18. I can dislocate my own jaw and pop it back into place just by opening and closing my mouth. One of my favorite things to do when at a dentist's office is to wait until they tell me to open wide and...POP! Totally freaks them out. Heh heh heh. Wait a minute...Snakes can dislocate their jaws as well. Usually in the operation of masticating over-large rodents. Freakin hell. I am a reptile. This sucks. I don't even like rodents.

19. I suck at doing laundry. As any of my bestest friends could tell you, I am pretty much a perfectionist freak. I have very particular and orderly way of doing things, typically involving an over-complicated system of lists, check boxes, and sacrificing live chickens. But when it comes to laundry, I seem to have some yet undiscovered deficiency. I've dyed my white laundry pink at least 5 times in the past two years. And I swear to you that I check the colors. Honestly I do. But without fail some red bastard of a clothing item finds its way into the load and pow! Pink undies for everyone.

20. I hate any sort of candy with rice cereal in it. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of rice crispy squares. They are honest and open about what they are. Rice poofies, marshmallows, butter. I can handle that. But when you go to bite into a piece of chocolate and are surprised by irritatingly crispy aggregate matter...*shudders. Ick.

21. I always have one drawer at work and at home that is an utter mess. The resident crap drawer, or so I call it. It seems that no matter how hard I bend my diseased little brain around obsessively organizing, there are some items that just defy logic and end up homeless. These unfortunate cast offs lay sadly label-less and unalphabetized in whatever drawer is closest to the ground.

22. I can't wear socks without shoes. I simply can't stand the way they feel on my feet by themselves. Especially socks with loose toes. Bleeegh!

23. I'm a freak about eyes. It's not so much a pain thing, I can deal with pain. I've been tattooed (oh the follies of youth), pierced (oh the follies of adulthood), and surgeried (oh the follies of a asshat appendix)and done just dandy. I just don't take kindly to any sort of procedure that involves my eye. I dang near beat the snot out of the doctor who first introduced me to the puff a jet stream of air in to your eye test. It was bad enough to have to get close to all those metal contraptions. And then he did that. They had Demerol waiting for my next appointment. And a spatula to scrape me from the ceiling. And protective body gear. Wisely done, I thought.

24. The list of things I wanted to be when I was a kid: koala farmer (we've established this one), monster truck driver (still hoping), marine biologist (it just sounded cool), chef (I used to draw up menus for my brothers and they would order their breakfast and lunch from them during summer break).

25. Shows I do not follow: Anything on reality TV, Lost, Grey's, Heroes, 24, CSI Anything, Anything on VH1, MTV, etc.
Shows I do follow: Nigella Feasts, Nigella Express, Barefoot Contessa, Viva Daisy, Man vs Food, (see a pattern developing here), the Office, Battlestar Galactica.

I supposed to tag someone now, but being the pathetic dork that I am, I really don't have anyone to tag, seeing as the only person I would tag is the person who tagged me. If anyone other than Heather a.) reads this, b.) has a blog, and c.) hasn't already been tagged, consider yourself tagged!

Cyndi

Updates

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Ever said to yourself, "I need "X" like I need another hole in my head" ? Well, a warm welcome if you please, for the new hole in my head. I dun pierced mah nose! And I love it. I now fully expect to find out what "X" is and why I need it. No, that didn't make any sense to me either, and I wrote it.

In other news, Doritos and half a king-size Hershey bar, while seeming like a most excellent lunch, are in fact, NOT excellent. At all.

You live and you learn.

Cyndi

Songs that are supposed to be romantic...but aren't

Thursday, January 22, 2009


Songs that are supposed to be romantic but aren't...Volume 1 (I feel this may become a regular series as today's music industry is kind enough to provide me with such ample fodder.)

I get the distinct impression that today's young women become increasingly easier to impress. All an uber-sensitive whiny chap with mascara must do is slap together a few notes, paying special attention to engineering a chorus that stops a hairsbreadth away from devolving into WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!, and he has his very own gaggle of ravening, weepy, screeching girls who assign to him the status of Mega Ultra Super Romance God of the Universe. Honestly, does anyone listen to lyrics anymore? Anyone?

So with that I give you Secondhand Serenade's "Fall for You." Try not to expire from the romance of it. I know it will be difficult. I've honestly been out and heard a young woman shoosh her friend when this sodden Kleenex of a song came on. "Shhh! Oh my gosh! It's our song!" *Fans herself.* "Oh my gosh, Secondhand Serenade is sooooo awesome! They're deep."

They're deep alright, my young emo mall-rat friend. So deep I need a shovel for fear that a load of steaming piffle might find it's way into my ear. Let's begin, with the song's first stanza. And I quote:

"The best thing about tonight is we're not fighting,
Could it be we've been this way before?
I know that you don't think I am trying,
I know you're wearing down thin to the core."

Honestly,'The best thing about tonight is we're not fighting,'? Perhaps he's celebrating the much-anticipated commencement of his Thorazine drip. They're not fighting tonight. Hurray oh hurray!

Sounds like the hallmarks of a trailer park romance to me. What a momentous night indeed! The neighbors won't have to call the cops for once. No one will have to witness the spectacle of Jim Bob in naught but his boxers and stained tank top lurching about on the lawn, shouting drunken obscenities at the plastic flamingo as Jane Bob ejects his possessions from the trailer's front window. No, not tonight. Tonight Jim Bob can ruminate on the fact that they're not fighting.

"Woulda you look at that Jane Bob, we ain't even broke a dish tonaght! I think that maght jest be the best part bout tonaght. Other than this frosty Keystone a course." Oh the romance! Help me for I grow faint!

And just because this line is too droll to pass up, "I know you're wearing down thin to the core." Well yes clearly, he needed something to rhyme with 'before.' I can only imagine the choices he elected to pass on. Pore, spore, bore, gore, lore, more. No, none of them quite communicate the depth of the angsty angst that drips from this song. Really dude. Thin to the core? What, is she an apple? The earth perhaps? Does she have a liquid hot mag-ma center? Gar.

Ready yourself, for here comes the chorus:

"But hold your breath,
Because tonight will be the night
That I fall for you over again
Don't make me change my mind."

Don't make me change my mind? Is that a threat? Don't make me change my mind or what? She'll see the back of his pimp hand? And how will she make him change his mind precisely, by NOT holding her breath?

"Hay! Jane Bob, I dun told you to hold yer breath! Don't make me change mah mind now. I's said I's gonna fall fer you over again. Now get on in there and put on them cut-offs you hade awn when we first met down at them stock car raises. You know, the ones I spillt that beer awn."

Yes, Jim Bob sure does know how to charm a lady. But wait! There's more!

"Or I won't live to see another day!
I swear it's true!
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
You're impossible to find."

Ohhh. I see. So Jim Bob really only wants to patch things up because a girl like her is impossible to find. Uh huh. So what is she now? A Tickle Me Elmo at Christmas time? A quail in hunting season? It's hard work puttin down the beer and going out on one of them women-hunts. You're right Jim Bob. Better than to patch things up that actually put forth an effort. Good on ya.

Skipping forward a touch:

"So breathe in so deep
Breathe me in, I'm yours to keep
And hold on to your words, cause talk is cheap
And remember me tonight when you're asleep."

Boy, the rhymes sure were coming quickly when he composed this stanza. He must have felt like Stradivarius approaching the work table. Aside from the oh so deft rhyme schema, does this make any sense whatsoever? So breathe in so deep, breathe me in, I'm yours to keep. Breathe me in...hmm. Sounds like in a misguided attempt at romance, Jim Bob resorted to the ole covered wagon, which while utterly hilarious to him, would likely not have greatly impressed his lucky lady love.

Jim Bob and Jane Bob lay in bed together. Jim Bob suddenly pulls the covers over Jane Bob's head.
"Shoooeee! Git a load of that babydoll! I bet it was them deviled eggs I dun ate. Go on, breathe me in. All that is yers to keep! Yes m'am. Ain't you the lucky one."
*Jane Bob retches, flees for the bathroom.
"You better not be holdin yer breath baby, don't make me change mah mind!"

Continuing on, 'So save your words, cause talk is cheap.' Wait, so she can't talk, because talk is cheap, and therefore meaningless. Okaaay. Em, terribly sorry if I'm pointing out the obvious here. But, isn't this song, well, composed of...words? So would that mean this song is well...Oh never mind.

The song whines on for another couple choruses, of course, just so we fully understand that he won't live to see another day, he swears it's true, she's impossible to find, yadda yadda, blah bah. What can one do in the face of such linguistic deliciousness but yield to its solicitous sentiments?

Holding my breath,
Cyndi

UCGs and Other Random Facts

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Before I begin to ramble, a couple of not terribly important things:

Firstly, I received a notification via email that I have officially reached the 1000 hit mark (this number reflects all the hits between June when I started tracking and now). Who knew my Mom and Dad were online so often?

Nextly, I'm just awful at remembering birthdays and anniversaries (I know how old I am, but only because I can do basic subtraction. 2008 minus 1981, carry the 3...wait. That's not right.) Being such crap at remembering these things, I am not at all surprised to announce that I missed my own Blog-versary on January 4th. Happy blog-versary to me! It's been one year of incredibly sporadic posts about things no one but me gives a goat turd about. Gives me a deranged sense of accomplishment really.

But neither of these insignificant items is what I wish to talk about today. What I wish to talk about is something that makes me, Scroogesquely, heave a sigh of relief when the holidays are finally over. UCGs. That's right. Unexpected Christmas Gifts. Please note that the gifts in question do not come from close friends or family members. Those you should see coming and reciprocate, unless you are a total jerk (like me). I am referring to totally unexpected gifts. Ninja-like gifts that leap from the shadows and nearly cause you to soil yourself. You know the kind I'm talking about.

There's a knock at the door. You wonder who it is. You're not expecting anyone. All the kids are off mugging old ladies, making origami from their homework, or watching mostly inappropriate shows in the basement. Your significant other is deeply engrossed in a sporting event of some kind. Yes, everyone accounted for.

You open the door, and there it is. A shiny and lovingly-wrapped parcel, grasped in the mitten-ed hands of a friend, neighbor, or co-worker, face flushed red with seasonal cheer and cold.

"Hi!" They shriek excitedly. "I just wanted to drop this by for you!" They extend the package to you. You stammer, you stutter. You forget to invite them in.
"Oh, thanks," you manage awkwardly. They blink at you. You blink at them. You frantically scan the nearby table for something that even remotely resembles a gift that you can present in return.

"Would you care for a fish stick?" You mumble stupidly.
"Oh no, I'm good" they say, patting their festively be-sweatered stomach. An awkward silence follows. "Well, I need to be on my way," they chuckle nervously.
"Yeah, sure. And...erm...thanks for...this," you say, feeling like the world's crappiest crap-hole.

This happens to me every year. I suck at sending Christmas cards. I don't make cutesy things to hand out to friends, let alone near acquaintances. It's not that I never think about it. I just never think about it in time. An idea lodges in the back of my muddled brain and only squeezes out until there is no time and no resources to make it happen. As a result, I have become utterly paranoid at avoiding these sorts of gift-givers at all costs. For an example of one of these interactions, please peruse the dramatization below:

*Phone rings, Cyndi looks uncertainly at a number that looks vaguely familiar and answers.

Cyndi: "Hello?"
Gifter: "Hey there! I was just wondering when I could stop by your house?"
Cyndi: *Cyndi recognizes work acquaintance's voice. Said acquaintance lives nearby as was discovered by a recent water cooler conversation. "Stop by? Why?"
Gifter: "I just wanted to drop something off to you."
Cyndi: "I'm sorry? Did I leave something at work?"
Gifter: "No, I just got you a little something for Christmas. It's not much but..."
Cyndi: "Oh no. You really don't need to do that."
Gifter: "I know I don't need to but I wanted to just..."
Cyndi: "No really, I'm good. Thanks though."
Gifter: "Look, it's really not anything big. Just tell me when you'll be around."
Cyndi: "You know, it's really busy right now and all. I'm just not sure when I'll be home. Probably you should just give it to someone else."
Gifter: "But the gift has your name engraved on it. I don't know any other Cyndies. Much less Cyndies that spell their names Cy..."
Cyndi: "You could change it. Maybe just scratch some of the letters out..."
Gifter: "Look. I could just swing by and leave it on your porch."
Cyndi: "Er...umm...that may not be such a good idea."
Gifter: "Why not?"
Cyndi: "Tapeworms."
Gifter: "Excuse me?"
Cyndi: "I have a tapeworm. They might be contagious within a 20 foot proximity. In fact, that's why I won't be around tonight. I need to uh, get it removed."
Gifter: "Don't they just give you pills for that?"
Cyndi: "It's a new breed of tapeworm, it's developed an immunity to medication.It's a...um, really big tapeworm. Highly evolved."
Gifter: "So how are they going get it out?"
Cyndi: "Um, make it feel unwelcome?"
Gifter: "Sorry?"
Cyndi: "Yeah, these new tapeworms are really sensitive. I think they said something about getting down near my abdomen and hinting about George having overstayed his welcome."
Gifter: "George?"
Cyndi: "I named him."
Gifter: "Will you be at work tomorrow?"
Cyndi: "Gosh darn it no. I'm done for the year."
GIfter: "Cool, I'll just leave it on your desk."
Cyndi: "Piss!"
Gifter: "Excuse me?"
Cyndi: "Hiss! Meow meow," laughs shrilly, "I was just talking to my cat."
Gifter: "Oh, that's em...nice. Well anyway, I hope you like the gift."
Cyndi: "Thanks a bunch."

Cyndi