Moon river

Took my breath away, it did.

(sing-songing) I got a package todaaaaay...

...from

this

very special blogger.

It's a whole box of goodies for the Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza!



Thank you, thank you, thank you, Leslie! It's just incredibly thoughtful of you. The only thing that could have possibly made the gift better is if you'd have been able to deliver it in person.

One a these days, honey...one a these days.

We're committing ourselves to each other

But maybe we should just be committing each other

Noooo. I'm not gettin cold feet. I guess I'm just sorta thinkin. Out loud....uh. Ok. Typing out loud.

In just a bit over a week, I'm gonna be marryin my best friend. And when ya think about it, that's a really cool thing. I get to have sex with my best friend. It's like...the best of both worlds.

See, I'm not only madly in love with the Zigster, but I happen to like him, too. I'd like him even if we weren't in love. It's just much more fun this way.

And I don't believe that this little piece of paper layin here on our bookshelves, just waitin to be officialized is that important. I'd be quite content to spend the rest of our lives just exactly the way we've spent the last six years.

Living in sin.

Nahhhh. I don't believe that for a minute. I just like sayin it.

So I'm thinkin to myself..."Self? Why do you wanna fuck up a good thing?"

And I guess that's kinda my point, if this post even has a point. Because that little piece of ghastly lavender-colored paper (C'mon, Peoria County...can'tcha find a nice cream-colored paper?) just isn't that important, I figured...why the hell not? It's one helluva excuse for a party, right?

Seriously, though...do you guys wanna know the real reason I wanna get married?

Because I don't want my obituary to read, "She is survived by a special friend." I think that sounds...just....sad. Because Zig is so much more than a "special friend". And I'm sure that all of the "special friends" I read about in the obits meant much more to their loved ones than that, too.

Not that I'm plannin on dyin any time soon, ya know? But hey...ya never know.

I've also had one fuck of a time figuring out just exactly what to call him during this six-year-long love affair.

"Boyfriend"? Puhleeeease. We're friggin AARP members, not sixth graders. Now men, though...they don't have a problem with callin their...uh...their girlfriend a "girlfriend", no matter how old they are. It makes 'em sound more like a stud to their cronies, ya know?

"Hey, he's an old fart and he's got a girlfriend. I bet he even gets blowjobs when it's not his birthday, lucky bastard."

"Significant other" sounds like I'm a lesbian. Not that there's a damn thing wrong with being a lesbian. I just don't happen to be one.

"Partner"? I think that sounds a little lesbianish, too. And just a tad business partnerish. The only business we're in together is monkey business.

"Mate"? Nope. Don't own a boat. Yet.

"Husband", though...well, that's pretty self-explanatory. No guessin there.

I know. Being concerned with how my obit reads and not knowing what to call him probably aren't great reasons to get married. But they just happen to by my reasons.

I'm sure if you'd ask the Zigster why he wants to get married at this stage in our lives, he'd say, "Because she wants to." I figure if he loves me enough to go along with my silly reasons for wantin to get married...well, it just makes me love him more.

I heard the throaty rumble...

...before I noticed the car, really. From first listen, I would have sworn it was a new Mustang with those really grumbly pipes they put on 'em that sound soooo sweet. But it wasn't a Mustang.

Up in front of me was some kinda brand new, lowslung, black car. I do pretty good at recognizing cars, but I don't know what this was. My after-thought was that it was a brand new Camaro. But I did some checkin, and it looks like the new Camaros won't be out til '09. Firebird? Don't think those are back out again til next year. Goat, maybe. Coulda been. Whatever it was, it was some kinda new performance-type car. Sporty. Real sporty.

The thing is, at the time, I wasn't payin a whole lotta attention to the car, itself. See, I was kinda mesmerized by the continuous flashing left turn signal. Because it fucking flashed for miles.

Goin around the world to the left, I guess.

And the other thing is, when I finally got close to the University/War intersection, he pulled over into the right lane along side me. With his signal still flashin....to the left.

It was then I looked into the car to see who the hell the moron was...and discovered some 60+ year old, distinguished-lookin dude with gray hair behind the wheel.

A manifestation of his mid-life crisis, no doubt.

Stick to the Buicks, buddy.

When life gives you lemons...

...make

Limoncello!

I love citrus fruit...especially lemons and limes. I happened to catch an episode of Giada's

Everyday Italian" on the Food Network a couple weeks ago and she was making Limoncello, so I had to look up the recipe.

Oh. My. Gawd. It's like the most delicious lemon drop...with one heck of a kick.

'Course, it's traditionally made with 96% alcohol. (Talk about a kick.) But I just used plain ole vodka, which is what her recipe called for. Plenty big enough kick for me, anyway.

750 ml. bottle vodka
10 lemons - peels only
3 1/2 C water
2 1/2 C sugar

(I used the now-naked lemons to make homemade lemon shakeups.)

Take a big bowl and pour vodka over lemon peels and cover with plastic wrap. (I used a gallon tea jug with a lid.)
Let sit for 4 days at room temp.

When the 4 days are up, stir the sugar and water together over medium heat until the sugar dissolves and a simple syrup forms.

Cool and pour over the now-totally-drunk lemon peels. Let stand overnight at room temp.

Strain liquid into bottles and stick 'em in the freezer.

YUM! It's a party in your mouth!

I dunno. "Honeymoon" just sounds kinda...silly

I mean...good lawd. We're both in our 50's. Well, he's more into it than I am. heh And we've lived together for six years.

Honeymoon, schmoneymoon.

But. Since my boss and my boss's boss have been so gracious as to let me take a week off after the Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza, we decided that we oughta do something. Uh. Well, there's that, too. But I'm not in the mood to talk about sex. heh

I mean, we ought to go somewhere.

The thing is, we can't decide where.

The Keys, of course, would be our first choice. But we've only got a week, so that'll hafta wait til next spring.

I suggested New Orleans. We've both been wanting to go back and we could get there in a day. It'd still give us three or four days there. But 'Nawlins in August? Hmmmm. Might be a tad bit on the steamy side. Literally. Though probably not a whole lot worse than here. And at least it has waaaay more interesting people to watch.

We kicked around the idea of somewhere in Wisconsin. A little cooler, maybe. We've kinda kicked around the idea of somewhere in Tennessee...we love the mountains, though we've only driven through 'em on the way to and from Florida.

We've kicked around the idea of just taking a couple-three one or two day trips around here. But quite honestly, I've been to just about every tourist trap/park/place of interest around here...and I'm not too thrilled with that idea. Corn. Lotsa corn.

So, I'm seeking suggestions.

We're not really into the "big city" thing. Well, except for 'Nawlins. We like quirky, off the beaten path places. We like being around the water. We much prefer little cabins or odd-ball motels to swanky hotels. We love to just hang out, drink a few beers in colorful waterin-holes and people-watch. A "barefoot" kinda trip, ya know?

Tell me...where would you go if you only had a week and only wanted to spend a day or less to get there? From central Illinois, I mean.

C'mon, peeps. Hit me with your best shot.

A "Schmoozer"? Me?

Oh, goody! Another little doodad thingy to sweat bullets over whilst trying to add it to Mr. Template (whom we all know is a grumpy, curmudgeonly old fart who might suddenly decide to develop Alzheimer's and forget all the information he knows) so it'll show up correctly on Mr. Sidebar (whom we all know is a fussy old, Depends-wearing bachelor whose sole purpose is to further garble the information Mr. Template tries to translate to him).

Anthropomorphize much? Nah. Not me.



Pam (great name, btw) at

Pamibe

has bestowed upon my pointy little head, the title of "Schmoozer".

I'm not so sure I'm deserving of the award, though. I dunno as what I do could be called 'schmoozin'. I'm thinkin it's more like bullshittin. Don't believe me? Read that first paragraph again. But I guess maybe it's the same thing, eh?

And, I suppose, it's my sworn duty as a newly-crowned Schmoozer to pay it forward...so to speak....to five of those whom I consider very schmoozerly people.

I believe that my first choice for the title of "Schmoozer" would hafta be

Elisson

, hisownself. He's a schmoozer extraordinaire.

Closely behind Elisson is

Eric

. But only because he posted that nasty-ass, homemade YouTube flick of a Black Widow Spider. Ew. Ew!Ew!Ew!

Chrissy

is a classy schmoozer whose schmoozing never fails to delight me. Especially the stories about her mom. They're absolutely precious.

My fourth and fifth selections go to a couple of da locals.

The lawyerly and entertaining

Eyebrows

is one of the most intelligent schmoozers I've ever had the pleasure to read. She be a smart schmoozer.

And the

Peoria Antipundit

brings a tell-it-like-it-is schmooze to every single thing he writes about.

Now go forth, all you schmoozers, and...well...schmooze.

Brown paper packages, tied up with string...

...these are a few of my favorite things.

Ok, so UPS doesn't use string.

Just got something delivered from the friendly, but harried-looking (they always look and act like they hafta poop in the worst way, don't they?) UPS guy that's destined to become one of my favorite things.

I loooove to smell good. I loooove good perfume, not...overpowering...perfume. But I have a hard time buying perfume that I like. I might think I like it, but after it mixes with my skin chemistry, I wind up smellin like a two-dollar hooker.

I might be easy, but I'm not cheap.

I've always been afraid to order any kinda perfume or body spray online just because of that reason. I mean, if I don't know what it smells like...uh...how am I gonna know what it smells like?

But I took a chance.

I ordered some of

Philosophy's Amazing Grace

based solely on the description. Well, based on that and the name.

See, I'm not exactly someone you could call "graceful". Not without laughing, anyway. Truthfully, I'm kinda famous for my spectacular falls. (I haven't had one in a while...I need to find some wood to knock on. heh) I also happen to be quite appreciative of irony. Plus, I thought that wearing something called "Amazing Grace" might ward off those evil spirits or gremlins that cause those spectacular falls in the first damn place.

But I digress, as I'm also famous for. (Oooooh! Sparkly!)

Actually, I ordered a combo set...perfume, body wash/shampoo and lotion.

And I freakin LOVE it! I've had the perfume on for a few hours now...and I still don't smell cheap.

I can't wait to try some of their other products.

Well, I'd say that this puts us right back at square one...

...only in reverse.

Ok, so I'm watching The View. I dunno why. Somebody shoot me.

But some black dolly is takin Rosie O's place and I'm thinkin they'd have been better off to keep Rosie.

They're talkin about using the word that shall not be spoken...ya know? The "N" word.

The black dolly states, "It's OK for ME to use it because I'm black. But don't let me hear you say it." (Spoken to her white co-....hosts? Whatever.)

Sooooo...somebody 'splain to me why this is any different than those "Whites Only" signs on bathrooms and water fountains 50 years ago?

Racism is racism...no matter what color you're discriminating against.

Y'all might think I'm crazy...

...well, I am. But that's beside the point.

Blogging is part of my life. Yea, it's a small part, but a part. Blogging has become my 'vent'. It's a way to express myself. It's part diary, part calendar, part social planner. Even more importantly, blogging has become a little window on the world. In that capacity, it's enabled me to "meet" some really cool people. People that I consider friends. Some I've had the opportunity to meet face to face. Some...well frankly, I wouldn't know 'em if they walked up to me on the street and spit on my shoe. (No, please don't do that.)

Now, some of you might think that a wedding really isn't the time or place to hold a 'blogger bash'. But I happen to think a wedding is the perfect place for a buncha bloggers to get together. Especially this wedding. Once you read the invitation, I think you'll understand. It's not gonna be your "normal" wedding...so why should the invitations...OR the guests...be any different?

Yes. This is a "real" invitation to all my bloggy buddies (especially all youse over there in the "locals" list). We truly want you to come. In fact, we'd be tickled if you'd come and share a cheeseburger (and a beer!) in paradise with us.



Please Come And Share A Cheeseburger In Paradise With Us

Saturday, August 4 at 3 p.m.
16502 Lakeview St., Chillicothe, IL

Don't bring anything but your smiles - we'll take care of EVERYTHING else

Casual attire (and attitude) is required
No shoes? No shirt? No problem!

Please RSVP via email - p.hazzard@gmail.com

Oh, I almost forgot...there'll be a wedding at 5 p.m.!

(It's 5 o'clock somewhere, right?)

Pam & Dan

Yea, this is a "real" invitation. Take it as seriously as you would if you'd gotten it in the mail. If you think you'd like to come and help us celebrate, shoot me an email and I'll send you a few more details and the directions. And, yes...it's very casual. As in t-shirts, shorts and sandals. Hey...it's outside...in August...in central Illinois. 'Nuff said.

Every picture tells a story....

...don't it?

The Chronicles of Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza: Episode 4

(My apologies to Rod Stewart.)

So. I decided that we needed a couple-three signs or something for the Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza. See, the route to our house is kinda...convoluted. I thought it might be handy for those that haven't been here before to have some kinda...guide...thing.

Oh...to back up a little...the reason I keep callin it 'Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza' is because the invitations (which really don't look like invitations) start off by saying:

"Please Come and Share a Cheeseburger in Paradise With Us"
(I'll post the whole thing at some point.)

Aaaaanywho...some foamcore board, I thought. And markers. I'll make a coupla signs. Then I got to thinkin to myself, "Self? Just what do you propose to attach these signs to? On the corners where they should go, there's really nothin to attach 'em to.

Off to the local craft store. Where I find the perfect supports for the signs...free-standing, wrought iron yard flag hanger...things. (Figure that one out) And they were on CLEARANCE! Cheap, baby. On to the foamcore board section. Whooo Hoo! It's also 50% off!
(Hey, that shit's expensive, ain't it?...like 4 bucks for a poster-size.)

Then I get to browsin around...and discover that kid's foam stuff on sale, too. Ya know? Those sheets of colored foam? Kids cut it up into shapes and glue it on ...well...whatever. It also comes in already-pre-cut shapes...allll kindsa shapes. Karsin, the grandkiddie, looooves the stuff.

So I get to thinkin to myself, "Self? What could I do with this stuff?"

Then I find three PALM TREES made outa that same foam.

DING! DING! DING! (That's the sound of an idea poppin into my pea-brain.)

Who wants to see some tacky, boring old hand-lettered sign sayin, "THIS WAY TO CHEESEBURGERWEDDINGPALOOZA!"

Ppppppffffftttttttt!

Noooooo. I gotta do somethin different. Still tacky. But different.

A couple hours later...



So? The cheeseburger says...well...cheeseburger. And the palm tree, sun and surf says 'paradise'...don't it?

I dunno...it just made me laugh out loud

This guy was lonely and so he decided life would be more fun if he had a pet.

So he went to the pet store and told the owner that he wanted to buy an unusual pet.
After some discussion he finally bought a centipede, which came in a little white box to use for his house.

He took the box home, found a good location for the box, and decided he would start off by taking his new pet to the bar for a drink.

So he asked the centipede in the box, "Would you like to go to Frank's place with me and have a beer?"

But there was no answer from his new pet.

This bothered him a bit, but he waited a few minutes and then asked him again, "How about going to the bar and having a drink with me?"

But again there was no answer from his new friend and pet.

So he waited a few minutes more, thinking about the situation.

He decided to ask him one more time. This time putting his face up against the centipede's house and shouting, "Hey, in there! Would you like to go to Frank's place and have a drink with me?"

Suddenly a small voice came from within....

"I heard you the first time - I'm putting my fuckin' shoes on!"

Via email from

The Great Barbed One

, Catfish.

After the rain

I swear...I will never get tired of this view. It's always different. The way the clouds are formed. The roughness or calmness of the water. What birds happen to be hangin out at the time. What boats or barges happen to be goin by.

Speakin of birds, those teeeeny little white specks you see waaaay out there on the sandbar are pelicans. Hundreds and hundreds of American White Pelicans. There are more every day and there are a gazillion babies. We sit out on the deck and watch 'em with the binocs. I just wish some of 'em would head over this way a little closer so I could get a really good shot of 'em. They're soooo awkward-lookin, but soooo graceful when they fly...they do a lotta glidin on the air currents.

And speakin of boats, we got quite a show last Sunday. A big-assed cabin cruiser (with what was evidently a dumbass for a captain) got aaallll hung up on a sandbar. Hell, he was a hundred yards outside the channel markers...dunno where the hell he thought he was goin. But it sure wasn't very far. Hell, him and his boat-mates were outa the boat and walkin around beside it (tryin to push it off...HA! As if...) and the water was only like mid-thigh deep...a couple-three feet at the most.

Several other boats stopped to try to help, but didn't have any luck. Somebody finally brought around a tug from Hamm's and yanked his dumb ass offa there. Bet that cost him a buck or two.

No doubt it's a fine, old, honorable Dominican name...

...but it's rather...disconcerting...to hear it in the sports segment of the local news. Especially the first time.

St. Louis Cardinal Albert Pujols.

Last name pronounced Pooh-holes.



And sometimes, they just sorta drop the S.

Can you imagine what that poor kid woulda went though if he'd been American?

Pink

Well, Mr. Twain...

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.

Actually, that quote, or some variation of it, has been attributed to several different people...Abraham Lincoln, George Eliot, Groucho Marx and Albert Einstein, just to name a few. But because I'm a Midwesterner and because I happen to love Mark Twain's dry, understated sense of humor, I'm gonna give him the credit for it.

So, anyway...where the hell was I goin with this?

Well, I've basically got nothin except a few random thoughts bangin around in my head...nothin really worth postin about...so I probably should keep my mouth shut. Probably.

Probably won't.

*******************

I'm sicksicksicksick of politicians. I don't believe a damn word any of 'em say. They all lie. Or twist the truth so badly it's not recognizable anymore.

Take, fr'instance, our illustrious State Rep. Mike Smith. Despite the fact that he's a Dem, I thought he was a good sorta guy. He's a big, fat boy. I kinda liked that, too. Made him a little more "human", ya know? I figured that since he obviously wasn't wastin a lotta time joggin or workin out at the gym, he was spendin more time workin for us. And he's supposedly tryin real hard to keep Ameren-Cilco in line and freeze the damn electric rates. That's a good thing, too.

Then I read somewhere (course, I can't find it again to provide the link) that, despite Illinois bein flat-assed broke, he voted for a pay raise for himself and his cronies.

Figures. He's gonna "save" us poor Ameren-Cilco customers a few bucks a year...then turn around and pick our pockets for a bigger chunk...to fill his damn refrigerator.

I dunno why this pisses me off so. It's not like he's the only politician who's a hypocrite. It's EVERY one of 'em. He just happened to be handy.

**********************

In Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza news, the RSVP's are comin in. Hell, we might hafta rent a damn porta-potty...we only have one bathroom...and there's free beer. LOL We're up to around 20 or so "yesses", so far. That was gonna be our original amount of invitees...but we kept addin to the list. In fact, we're still addin.

Watch out. You might be next. heh

**********************

I know I've said it before...but I really, really like my job. See, since I only work part-time, my paid time off doesn't build up very fast, and I pretty much use it as I earn it. So, when I found out we were havin a wedding, I asked if I could take some unpaid time off. My boss said that the powers that be don't much like to give unpaid time...unless you're sick wink-wink. Hmmmm...I believe she was tryin to tell me somethin.

Soooo, I just figured that I'd call in sick. Kinda hated to lie about it, but she did wink, after all.

Today, she tells me that she talked to her boss and she said that I could take whatever time I wanted. It was a "special" occasion...I believe she said something like "once in a lifetime". Course, I told her that it was actually more like thrice in a lifetime...but who's countin? This'll be the last one, fer sure.

"Do you haff ze proper lizance for ze minkee?"

The Chronicles of Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza: Episode Three

Went and got THE license today. And surprisingly, it didn't hurt a bit...considering we're talkin 'bout local bureaucracy...and we went right at noontime...and it was a Friday.

Didn't give it a thought...downtown at noontime on a Friday no less, I mean. But I slid right into a parkin spot (and did one damn fine job of parallel parking, I might add) on Jefferson and we were in and out of the courthouse within a half-hour or so.

Gotta give props to the

Peoria County Clerk's

office. We got right in, despite a short line for other things like registering to vote and gettin a passport. The gal that issued the license was pleasant and friendly. Best of all, she didn't diddle around. Just got it done.

But she did have time to giggle a little with us when she went over the contents of the whole 'marriage packet' that they hand out. It included some info about how to fill out the license, how to get a copy of it, a checklist of places to notify, a form for Social Security, and...a pamphlet entitled "Getting Married? Know The Facts About Your Sexual Health".

Even better? The one from the March of Dimes entitled, "During Pregnancy". heh

Uh. I don't think we'll be needin that one, honey.

While I can't exactly call the experience "nice"...the armed guards and metal detectors kinda detracted from the whole experience, ya know?...it wasn't a bit awful.

Oh...anybody wanna guess what movie the title quote is from? First one to get it right wins....the 'Know The Facts About Your Sexual Health' pamphlet. hehe

Everybody enjoy the fireworks?

Gawd. We have the best neighbors. We sat in (on?) the comfort of our own deck last night and enjoyed one heck of a show. I bet they spent a couple thousand on fireworks. The illegal kind. Shhhhhhhh!

It was fantastic. Plus, we could see Chillicothe's show from the beach. No fightin crowds. No drivin around, tryin to find a parkin place.

The very best thing? I didn't hafta wear a bra. In fact, I was in my nightgown. heh

Odds and ends on Independence Day

No, beer-butt chicken isn't on the menu today. This was taken last weekend and I'm just gettin around to postin it. It's the Zigster's specialty...well, one of 'em...and it was awesome, as usual.

Today's menu? Shrimp cocktail, grilled rib-eyes smothered in butter/garlic sauteed mushrooms, baked potatoes, fresh corn on the cob. Heart attack on a plate. Don't get much more American than that, huh?

************************************************

Since the river level has gone down a bit, it's revealed a pretty good sized sandbar about half-way across. This sandbar has become home/nesting ground to a humongous flock of

American White Pelicans

. They normally aren't found much around here, but it seems like in the last few years, they've decided that the midwest is a pretty good place to be during the summer.

I know. The photo isn't that great. Best we can do with a 10x zoom on the camera...and without a boat. We do go out and watch 'em a couple times a day with the binocs, though, and there are a bunch of babies.



************************************************

Well, I was gonna post a couple shots of Screwie...uh...I mean Stewie, the Wonder-Weenie...uh, I mean cat. But Blogger musta decided that there were enough cute cat pics floatin out there. Maybe some other time.

************************************************

And finally, go on over to the

Peoria Antipundit's joint

and wish him a happy birthday, too. And be sure to read his "It's My Birthday!" post. He does such a gooooood job of summing up my own thoughts. And he does it waaaay better than I could.
"The only witness to this shooting appears to be Stevie Wonder again. No one saw anything." heh

************************************************

Happy Birthday, America!

(Be careful with those fireworks...you'll put an eye out!)

The 4th of July came early this year

Saturday night, Ziggy was watching somethin on tv and I was playin on the computer. (Pretty excitin stuff for a Saturday night, huh?)

Anywho, I started hearing this booming sound. We have a lotta barge traffic here on the river, so I first thought it was some barges bangin together...until I looked out the front door.

Fireworks!

I mean a big-ass fireworks show. "Professional" stuff. Somewhere across the river.

We got up and ran down to the retaining wall and got to see a fabulous fireworks show that lasted well over half an hour. Honestly, it was breathtaking...shooting up above the trees and reflecting out across the river. We stood and watched the whole thing, all the while, tryin to figure out just exactly where it was comin from.

When it was over, we came back in and I pulled up the ole Rand-McNally online and the best we can figure, it was coming from Washburn. It'd be just about right across the river from us, though it's not a river town. It's inland a ways.

I can't imagine that we'd be able to see a fireworks show like that from so far away, though. I mean, it looks like Washburn is several miles away from the river...I dunno...5 or 10, anyway.

Any of youse locals know if Washburn had a fireworks show Saturday night? Or if not, just where it might have been coming from?

Kinda funny how accurate these things are

You Are Paper

Crafty and creative, you are able to adapt freely to almost any situation. People tend to underestimate you, unless they've truly seen what you are capable of. Deep down, you're always scheming and thinking up new plans. Your mind is constantly active. You are quite capable of anything you dream of. You can always figure out a way to get what you want. You can wrap a rock person up in your sheet of trickery. A scissor person can sneak up and cut you to pieces. When you fight: No one can anticipate your next move If someone makes you mad: You'll attack them mercilessly when they're unprepared

Are You Rock, Paper, or Scissors?

Betcha didn't know....

I've been tagged by the irrepressible

Tammi

. Of course I hafta comply...she's "rock" to my "paper". And y'all know what rocks do to paper. heh

So here are The Rules: Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

Now, that might be a toughie. I pretty much spill my guts on here, so coming up with eight facts or habits about myself that y'all haven't already heard me spout about will be...difficult.

For Tammi though, I'll give it the ole college try. But seein as how I try to buck authority and not follow the rules every chance I get, I ain't taggin nobody. If ya wanna play, have at it.

1. My two great claims to fame whilst working as a photo-journalist for a small, weekly newspaper were interviewing

Frank Abagnale

. Fascinating man. And then President Jimmah Carter's son, Chip. YAWWWWWN!.

My third claim to fame? Sleeping clean through half the town burning down and a resident falling to his death from a second-story fire escape while saving half a dozen trapped people. Also whilst workin as said photo-journalist. (ahem)

2. I have a mild form of OCD, which I constantly battle. I used to be much worse, but took Paxil for several years and it cured me. Sorta. Still hafta brush my teeth before I go to bed...no matter what. Sick. Drunk. Really, really tired. Hell, the house could be on fire, but I've GOTTA BRUSH MY TEETH, FIRST! If I don't, something bad will happen.

3. In 1974-75, I was addicted to Dexamyl (a combo drug of dexedrine and Miltown) that a physician (and I use that term VERY loosely...and who later lost his license for said activity) prescribed for me for weight loss. I was maybe 20 pounds overweight then. I didn't realize that I was a speed-freak until several years after I'd quit using it. Duh. I'm still amazed that it didn't kill me.

4. Despite me still being a speed-freak...only in a different way...I've only gotten two speeding tickets in my whole life. (Ain't countin the written warning I got last week.) And never been in an accident. (Knocking wood, here.)

5. I've always thought that I would have made a great mechanic. I love to take machines apart and put them back together. I mostly get it right puttin 'em back together.

6. I'm a pretty decent painter...if I'm in the mood. If I'm not, I suck major suckage. Same with writing. And wood carving. And sculpting.

7. I've never...I mean never...not even gotten close...to flying. In a plane, I mean. Nor a helicopter. If I can't control it in some way, shape or form, fuck it. I ain't goin.

8. My "personal best" as far as orgasms go is 11. I was tired.