Obviously there’s no accounting for taste in the blogosphere because somehow, I managed to receive another award.
Sharp-eyed viewers might have spotted it on my side bar earlier this week, but here it is front and center, courtesy of frequent commenter and very cool blogger Woman: Confused and her blog "Musings of a Confused Woman". Check her out… when she’s not mining the depths of her inner turmoil, she’s telling bawdy bedroom stories; very much in the vein of a Versatile Blogger!
Now these awards always seem to come with rules, which I customarily break. One of them is to give out a bunch more awards, but that always makes me queasy… I hate having to pick and choose among blog friends and rather than risk anyone feeling left out, I prefer to leave the whole step out.
The other rule is to tell 7 things about me. OK, I guess I can do that, although if you’ve been following along for any length of time, I’ve already blogged about eleventy hillion jillion things about myself. But what the heck, what’s 7 more?
1. I am the oldest child of 2 oldest children, making me the Alpha Grandchild of my family… the Trailblazer… the Pioneer. And it must have been pretty stressful handling all that responsibility because…
2. I’ve had 2 heart surgeries. No major cutting, but I’ve had a catheter ablation to correct chronic atrial fibrillation. (That’s when they snake a catheter from a blood vessel in your groin (yowza!) all the way up into your heart, then burn the renegade electrical packets that trigger the irregular heartbeat.) Then a couple years later, I had another one. This story is definitely a post in itself. And to think, I only even went to the doctor because my hands hurt. Because I also have…
3. Delayed Pressure Urticaria. That’s a form of hives that appear the day after I have sustained contact with a hard or sharp cornered surface. They usually go away by the following day. I KNOW… Bizarre… but very painful, especially when they occur on the hands and feet. I went to the doctor to find out what the hell was wrong with me and they picked up the irregular heartbeat. And I’m like, that’s fine, but what about my freakin’ hands?? I first got them the year I turned 40… It’s like, “Happy Birthday to You”, then BANG, you start falling the hell apart.
4. Everyone has had favorite bands, yes? I’ve had a very weird progression of favorite bands.
Early Junior High: Elton John (all over the radio, all the time.)
Later Junior High: KC and the Sunshine Band (saw them on Mike Douglas Show and was knocked out… they moved like they were like the Temptations with horns.)
Early High School: Abba (don’t laugh… those chicks were hawt!)
Later High School: Southern Rock… (Charlie Daniels, Molly Hatchet, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Blackfoot, the Outlaws… I was digging it all.)
Early College: Meat Loaf. (To me, greatest rock singer ever.)
Later College to present day: AC/DC (Greatest party band ever.)
5. I have 254 DVDs, 409 rock CDs, (most by any 1 group: 22 AC/DC, followed by 12 each of Meat Loaf and George Thorogood). I have seen 104 concerts. I’ve been to 159 professional sports events, including 66 football games and 81 baseball games. And I know all these things because…
6. I am a Spreadsheet Monster. I don’t know why I feel the need to quantify everything I do, but it’s always been there, since I was a kid sorting my baseball and football cards. If they would have had Excel back then, I’m sure I would have had tracking sheets on those too.
7. I love rhymes and wordplay. I know you probably already know that but it’s one of my favorite things. I was reminded of this the other day when I found another old email exchange I had with my friend, FP (not the sitcom friend this time) that started at “normal” before skidding out of control, as you’ll see:
I believe it started with me not going to some kind of party.
FP: Party pooper. Every party needs a party pooper...that's you!
Bluz: You can only be a party pooper if you're at the party... ;oP
FP: Well, you can poop the party if you don't go
Bluz: That would be some looong distance pooping. (the party was in Delaware)
FP: Long enough to make you pooped?
Bluz: Absolutely... so pooped, I'd need to be scooped.
FP: Scooped with a pooper scooper.
Bluz: That was the idea... preferable not by a Trooper. (and we’re off…)
FP: Yeah, after the trooper scoops you with the party pooper scooper, he could make you become a stooper.
Bluz: So if I'm large enough to need a oversized pooper scooper, and have had too much beer, then the Trooper would be a stooper using the super pooper scooper on my stupor.
FP: And end up on a TV Blooper.
Bluz: And if he had been spying on me beforehand and he played basketball , he'd be a Snooper Hooper Trooper Stooper using the super pooper scooper on my stupor blooper.
FP: Yeah, well maybe you can avoid this whole snooper hooper trooper stooper super party pooper scooper on your stupor blooper by going maybe instead to Hershey Park on the Super Dooper Looper?
Bluz: I'll buy a new car so I can avoid this whole snooper hooper trooper stooper super party pooper scooper on my stupor blooper and take my Mini-Cooper to the Super Dooper Looper.
FP: That would be super de dooper!
Bluz: The last one made your head explode, didn't it?
FP: It still does not exclude you from being a party pooper.
Bluz: If I act the fool, will I be a smarty party pooper?
FP: No, a farty party pooper.
Bluz: A wise guy who's eaten too many beans followed by a lemon pie... a farty tarty smarty party pooper.
FP: And the wise guy's name is Marty.
Bluz: A stout fellow… Hearty Marty the farty tarty smarty party pooper.
I believe that’s when her head exploded.