okay, so George (and every other man it seems, including one aspiring PORN STAR) is having a giant issue with my Small Penis entry (read: are a great big bunch of cry babies) so I'm creating this new entry so the Teensy Weensy "Spider" one isn't so Front n' Center.
So...here is a list of things I may or may not have done at one time or other in my life. Lucky you!
Just prior to my teen years, I certainly did not spend 8 hours (on at least one day, possibly more) on a $2.00 pool float on our front lawn (where...there was no pool of any sort) willing myself to...levitate. See, we may or may not have just seen Return of the Jedi and someone may or may not have whispered to me--when I made mention of how very VERY cool that scene was where Luke finally puts his powers to use and raises his ship from the swamp--that it's not JUST a movie trick; that we ALL have that capability within us, if only we concentrate and believe and want it. That we only use 10% of our brains as it is right now, and therefore what MORE we could do if only we applied ourselves! Oh my, well that was all a pre-teen little girl with a highly impressionable and creative mind needed to hear! And so...I spent just shy of 10 hours a day, for at least a coupla days one summer, with my eyes clamped shut and my arms stock still at my sides, on the ...yes... pool float on the GRASS, convincing myself that it really WAS possible and I really COULD levitate right off the front lawn if only I believed hard enough. THAT = commitment my friend! ....And then I blamed myself and my own weakness in thought when, several days later, I had to admit failure as I peeled the now-deflated pool float from my butt. And then I went to find some sort of relief for my crispy new sunburn and besides, I really didn't have time for this anymore anyway since I was on to my next obsession, wherein I decided I was going to be a world-famous roller skating star slash singer the likes of which this world hadn't SEEN and I had to get my rehearsals ON in the basement if I was going to be ready for my imminent discovery!
Believed that if I stopped paying attention from the back seat, for even a MOMENT, when we were in the car going anywhere, that we would have a car accident and everyone in my family would be killed or maimed or paralyzed. That it was up to me to keep everyone safe and free from harm by...watching everything in front of us. Yeah...I was this crazy at FIVE years old, people. Ponder.
Believed (okay, perhaps BELIEVED is too strong a word...let's go with "wondered if") a camera were trained on me all the time...like the "world" was really just for ME (hello, narcissism, my old friend!) and everyone was "in on it" and my reactions to things were very important because...what would my AUDIENCE think?? And believe me, if you knew all my stories and where I was and how I got from "here" to "there"?? Hey, you would TOTALLY watch it.
(and this was looooong before Jim Carrey and The Truman Show and HEY! I'll just BET they got the idea from ME! And wouldn't it be funny if all this really WAS true and the Truman Show was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge in my direction!? ha. ha. ha. That really never occurred to me. ...really).
Buried more than one wooden spoon to save my ass. Literally.
Tried to get out of an underage drinking rap at 14 years of age by snottily informing the police officer, (who caught us on the side of the road just outside of a very large amusement park where some hot boys we met may or may NOT have paid some idiot 20-something guy to buy us a 12-pack of crappy beer) that that beer SO couldn't be MINE because, hullloOOOO, I was from [insert name of hoity-toity town where I lived] and we don't drink beer there, honey, we drink PERRIER! Yes he kept a straight face and yes, he was nice enough NOT to toss me in the clinker after being such a dumbass. Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM), he just made us pour out each and every one on the side of the road (and saved my ass once more when I, once again with Mucho Sass, asked if I could at least lean under the stream and LICK it cause that shit's EXPENSIVE, man!)
May or may not have caused tremendously great behavior to pour forth from my son for nearly 7 YEARS by telling him on the first day of preschool that I had cameras installed everywhere and would be able to see him all day, every day and would KNOW if he was bad! It worked for soooo long and I almost felt guilty about it, but hey...why knock a good thing, right? Until one day, the hunter became the hunted and he came home from school one fine day and when I asked him what he did that day, he replied with "well...YOU'RE the one with the cameras...YOU tell ME what I did." and...the jig was up.
Reenacted entire movies for the neighborhood parents, acting as director to all the kids (I, of course, was not ALWAYS the star). It's also possible that I choreographed whole dance numbers to ...Donnie and Marie's "One Bad Apple" and "Sugar, Sugar" by...I don't even remember, and many, MANY other songs...all 45rpm records, though, and they ROCKED. (That is, until I discovered the huuuuge ass circular gods containing Rolling Stone and AC/DC...aahhhhh vinyl goodness and I somehow forgot aaaaalll about The Monkees' Last Train to Clarksville.)
Also while on car trips, it's poooossssible that I maaaaay have sat in the back seat, completely and utterly still, pretending to be a doll for the benefit of passing cars. Thinking that it would give them something interesting to do while driving, trying to figure out if I was real or not (do you have any IDEA the willpower it takes to not blink until a car, going roughly the same speed, has passed??) and just how much it must have cost my parents (who may or may not have been driving a wood-paneled station wagon, mind you) to purchase such a life-like, beeeauuutiful porcelain doll!
hehehehe, I = retarded.
...or...not.
I also had moments where I almost felt guilty for the above Doll Scenarios because... what if I do SO good a job at this that they don't think I'm a DOLL, but instead think I'm DEAD?! ...never occurred to me to ask myself why on earth someone would travel with a dead kid sitting up in the back seat, but...whatever. It kept me busy on long road trips (when I wasn't pinching my brother and yelling that he wasn't staying on HIS SIDE of the invisible line and are we THERE YET??!!!)
uttered the words "Let's NOT and say we DID" in the last two decades and felt only mild shame.
Be unable to resist watching anything and everything UFO-related.
May or may not spend most of said watching rolling my eyes and making "that is SUCH frickin' BULLSHIT" noises throughout the entire shows.
May or may not spend the rest of the time secretly fascinated and juuuust this side of curious that maybe it IS true. And the REST of the time wondering if I should tell anyone about that time me and [high school friend] saw something weird one night while driving home. Or about my boyfriend a few years later who was so NOT into 'that kind of thing' and yet one night he and his best friend had a weird experience that shook them to their cores and freaked them out and while they were quick to find a million reasons for what happened, they couldn't quite and it wrecked them for a long time. And then I decide that it was probably all that [insert bad thing people sometimes ingest] and it was all imagined and go on my merry way.
Have NOT quietly wondered if the fleeting UFO sightings (purported as gospel by some of the world's most intellectual beings, natch) were perhaps flight objects created (by HUMANS) well in the future that are so fast, they actually dip into some sort of wormhole or dimensional overlap and catch our attention for juuust a few minutes before getting back to their intended destinations. And then I spit out the kool-aid and get back to work.
Have also NOT pondered the interesting nature of some UFO sightings to resemble submarines, jellyfish, and other sea items. And wondered if we are perhaps some tiny part of some grander liquid universe or life, like what coral or jellyfish are to us. If we're just one microbe on the back of an eyeball of something unseen. and hell, maybe the UFOs are colonoscopy cameras and we're the ass-tube of some giant unknown being.
You don't know.
May or may not have, as a CHILD (certainly not NOW), been disappointed when traveling to other states and found that the lines on all the maps we studied in school? Weren't actually visible on the actual state lines (thought they were called "LINES" for a "REASON") and/or that they weren't ACTUALLY valleys and caverns that required bridges to pass over said lines. I just could not believe that there was no difference in terrain, nothing changed and yet, suddenly...we're in Tennessee? NOOOO! (Like I said...that was a loooong time ago and I certainly don't feel any sort of that same disappointment now.)
Speaking of maps and lines...do you suppose anyone ever gets pissy over how the lines are drawn on maps? Like whenever they show them on the weather reports or just to show certain population information in news programs and someone on one line of one state gets all pissed off that they're using the "old" map that CLEARLY doesn't show that they WON that lawsuit and that little DIP in that map is so NOT correct, daymit!
...or...not.
I may or may not consider ending a friendship with a person who blinks too much. I decided this (one way or the other) recently while watching a news program when Amber Frey was being interviewed about the Laci Peterson murder (as though she has anything new to say??) and, I shit you negative, she blinked every. single. second. Perhaps even more than that. it was unbelievable. And SO friggin' distracting and WHY? why does she DO that? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?!
Probably never said "I'm a lover not a fighter, but definitely rolled my eyes to the point of PAIN whenever I hear(d) someone else say it.
May or may not have felt that I was a complete and total GENIUS when, as a teenager, I forced my younger brother to drink alcohol (by lying to him about what it actually was until AFTER he took the one tiny sip) so he'd quit blackmailing me into doing things for him by threatening to tell on me for having my friends over to go swimming when my parents weren't home. Brother: "I'm SO gonna tell MOM and DAD that [friends 1-4] were HERE today! You better [do whatever he chose] or I'll TEEEELLLL!!! Gracie: "No. You won't." Brother: *surprised at turn of events...this isn't how the conversation usually GOES* "yy-y-yes uh-HUH!" Gracie: "Nope. Not anymore. Cause if you DO? *I* will tell them that you DRANK their LIQUOR!!" Brother: *Horrified* "nuh-UH! I did NOT!! That would be a LIE!" Gracie: "Ohhhh, 'fraid not, dickweed. That orange juice you just drank?? It had VODKA in it." Brother: *absently touches his mouth as if to feel the remnants of possible vodka* "y-y-yer ...nooooo" but ...he KNEW by the evil look in my eyes that I was telling the truth (MAYBE). and...his bribing days were over.
May or may not have soon regretted such utter genius when it became apparent that my little trick meant that little brother was now bored and had to find a NEW way to fill his time, to wit: knocking on the windows that overlooked the pool where I and my friends would lounge like rock stars and, as we turned our faces to see what was going on, would find his lily white ASS smashed against the GLASS. And then...he wiggled, juuuuust to drive the point home.
I have never suggested that George wear a diaper to help him sleep better thru the night (because he frequently has to get up and go to the bathroom). And even if I DID, I didn't then swear that I wouldn't tell ANYONE. and he did not laugh hysterically and claim that was total bullSHIT and say that there'd be pictures of it on the WEB within 10 minutes of him falling asleep. He further did not pretend to be me, carefully pulling his covers off, stifling giggles, snapping pretend photos, and furiously typing while giggling some more.
And, finally, I am bilingual. But it might be a language I made up and only I and my puppies understand.
or...not.
