Totally stolen from Amy, who got it from Susannah. But it rocks, and I'm always a whore for memes...
accent: None -- plain old Midwestern blah. However, I can do almost any accent I want -- my best are British (various classes), German, New Yorker, Southerner, and Scots. I'm very good at them. People always want me to do them. I should be an actor; still haven't ruled that out.
booze: Geez, where to start? Gin. Rum. Beer. Wine (red). Absinthe. Tequila.
chore I hate: Cleaning cat litter box. Frickin' cats.
dogs/cats: Two cats; unnamed, to protect their identities and keep the stalkers at bay.
essential electronics: iPod and my laptop.
favorite perfume/cologne: Lauder's "Beyond Paradise for Men" -- makes me smell damned good.
gold/silver: Silver -- I'm too warm-complected for gold, I think. Silver's cool, anyway, precisely because it tarnishes.
hometown: NE Ohio, Rust Belt. Not Cleveland. More desolate.
insomnia: Almost never. For me, five minutes awake in bed is "insomnia" -- hah! Though I find if I lay on my back, I can't fall asleep. I have to lay on my stomach to sleep.
job title: Senior Editor at a prestigious place, but am not saying more.
kids: Two beautiful, brilliant sons with prettier blue eyes than mine (one's blueberry-eyed, the other, slate).
living arrangements: Two-bedroom apartment in a Chicago brownstone that was a hotel in the 1920s and looks it -- has a classy art deco feel to it.
most admired trait: Physical? Hmmm, my height (6'3") and broad shoulders and my kind blue eyes; Social? Sense of humor, for sure -- I can make anybody laugh.
number of sexual partners: I'm a gentleman scoundrel; I'll never kiss and tell!
overnight hospital stays: Two that I can remember; one for tonsils, one for hernia -- both in the mid 1970s.
phobia: Fear of flying; used to love flying, wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid; in 1998, I got phobic. Very odd, but there you have it. I think it's a fear of being a passenger, being at the mercy of somebody else, honestly. Rollercoasters get me that way, too -- just being strapped in and a passenger gives me the willies. I'm a driver, not a passenger.
quotes: "I’ve got no name. I’ve got no rank. I’ve got no serial number. And you can go to hell." --Humphrey Bogart. That says it all to me; I keep that one in my wallet.
religion: None.
siblings: No full-blooded; two older stepsisters, two younger half-sisters from father.
time I usually wake up: 4:16 a.m. No alarm clock. I just wake up. Instantly. And I never nap.
unusual talent: Able to piss anybody off without trying; also, can instigate things without people even realizing I'm the one who first yelled "fire" in the crowded theater -- I am a clear and present danger, though I try to instigate for good, like get folks motivated.
vegetables I refuse to eat: None; I love vegetables; probably wouldn't eat boiled nettles, though.
worst habit: Self-hatred. Very good at it, almost qualifies as an unusual talent.
x-rays: I've had my share; who keeps count? I don't glow in the dark, and only broke my middle finger, and never got that x-rayed or set or anything.
yummy foods I make: Anything Italian; grew up in an Italian stepfamily, and I cook serious-ass good, unpretentious Italian food. Try me. My biscotti alone would melt your soul, but my sauces are tops, all homemade, natch.
zodiac sign: Aries all the way; you read about the Aries Male, and it's totally me, totally, for better and worse.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
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6 comments:
I totally relate with the whole passenger/driver thing. I have serious control and anxiety issues there!
And you're a daddy! I think that we should post memes more often. They are so flippin' revealing!
I normally don't sweat it, but with planes and 'coasters, I sweat it. I'm totally relaxed behind the wheel, no matter the circumstances -- put me in the back, and I sweat.
Yup, I'm a daddy, indeed. A good one, too, very happy. I keep that mostly out of this blog, but had to level, for the sake of the meme.
The main reason I kept that out (and didn't name my cats) is because this blog is my sanctuary from some irksome psychostalker types who plagued other blogs I've had, and I didn't want to cross the streams, you know?
I absolutely *cannot* sit in the back seat of any moving vehicle.
And I know that stalker thing well. It's annoying, right? I just want a place where I can share my hopes and fears and love with others.
Bah!
WAY annoying. Stalkers are such a 21st-century bane, like rampant neuroses wedded to technology. *shudder*
The only time I've ever been spooked in a car was in a cab ride from O'Hare.
The taxi driver was a Latvian maniac, hauling serious ass eastbound, into the city, and I thought *Wow. I'm frickin' scared. This guy's gonna kill me.* and looked for a seat belt, found none. And the guy's talking over his shoulder to me while going about 95 mph, zig-zagging, swerving, cursing the other drivers.
juicy you.
xo,
boho
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