December 26, 2005

The 'Seven Things' Thing

Sigh. From Lauren:

Seven Things To Do Before I Die
1. Get stupid undergraduate degree so stupid people can lay off my stupid ass about my being so stupid, the stupid yuppie bastards.
2. Visit Russia and Eastern Europe, particularly Poland, and I'm not just saying that to make up for insulting Polish people earlier, either. It's a long story. I just want to go. When I was little you couldn't go; now you can go; I'd like to go. The end.
3. Learn Spanish, properly this time. This Spanglish ain't cutting it no mas.
4. Own a really fast car, and learn to drive it properly--preferably somewhere where it can be driven properly, if we haven't set the speed limits to 25 mph (or whatever that works out to in km/h) by then, you know, to save the ozone layer.
5. Go completely balls-out blonde. I mean bleached. Actually, I'd settle for just getting that done before it's all gray. I've had highlights, but that's not the same. Anyway, I certainly wouldn't maintain it, but to have it just once would be fun.
6. Pay my mom back. This is a long story and we're not getting into it here, so don't ask.
7. Tell someone who's really being an asshole in public that they're really being an asshole. In public. And say it without flinching, without remorse.

Seven Things I Cannot Do
1. Tread water. This is very embarrassing because no one ever believes me, so they try to teach me, and we waste 15 or 20 minutes, and how does it always end? "Wow. You really can't tread water." No kidding. Take comfort, o mine enemies: I am easily drowned.
2. Play pool. This is another one that people need to quit trying to teach me.
3. Wink.
4. Live in harmony with nature. Nature has a really nasty insect problem, have you noticed? Fuck nature.
5. Tolerate the smell of bananas. Oh man, I don't even like typing that.
6. Lauren can knit, but says she can't crochet. I'm the opposite: I can crochet, but all I can do with knitting needles is stab myself repeatedly.
7. Pull-ups.

I'm going to put the following back to "Seven Things That Attract Me to My Mate," which is another version I've seen out there, instead of "Seven Things That Attract Me to Blogging," only because I'm not sure I'm attracted to blogging so much as addicted to it. I keep trying to quit it and it keeps finding me. Often I literally hate it, and one of these days I mean to quit it for good. Anyway:

Seven Things That Attract Me to My Mate
1. He calms me down. I don't know how obvious it is to you, the reader, that I'm kind of a spaz, but I'm kind of a spaz.
2. For every nine jokes I make, he'll make one. But his one will be better than all of my nine put together.
3. The things he's insecure about are not the things I'm insecure about, and vice versa. We complement each other well that way.
4. His eyes. They're gorgeous.
5. You don't want to know this one, and I'm not going to tell you.
6. He's taller than I am.
7. And at least 100 times nicer, kinder, and more generous than I am, too.

Seven Things I Say Most Often
1. Yeah, the f-word. And too much Valley Girl speak, i.e., items 2-4:
2. Seriously.
3. Totally.
4. Completely.
5. I'm not kidding.
6. You have no idea.
7. This is terrible, but: "You cocksucking asshole motherfucker." This is, like, my worst cuss save for one. Believe it or not, 95% of the time it is said to inanimate objects. If I accidentally spill cat litter on the bathroom floor, I will address the spilled litter as "you cocksucking asshole motherfucker," not caring that it can't suck cock, doesn't have an asshole, and isn't fucking anyone's mother.

Seven Books That I Love
1. A Tree Goes in Brooklyn.
2. What Do You Care What Other People Think?
3. All the Anne books.
4. All P.J. O'Rourke, but especially Eat the Rich and Holidays in Hell.
5. The Essential Ellison.
6. Rock This--and you, you just shut up. Right now. I know it's basically a transcription of his comedy routines. I don't care. How's your novel coming, anyway? You ever make it through National Novel Writing Month? Mmm, that's what I thought.
7. Bright Lights, Big City. Am I the only one who kind of likes Tad Allagash better than the protagonist? Not all the time, but some of the time? And am I the only one who thinks "Tad Allagash" is the best character name ever devised by an author? Try changing it and seeing if it still fits the character--it doesn't (Tad Rubinski? Tad Petersen? Tad Sharif?). He could only be called Tad Allagash. ". . . drugs to be hoovered, dances to be danced, women to be Rubinskied"--oh hell, no. It's just so wrong.

Seven Movies That I Watch Over and Over Again
I just want to echo Lauren here because I don't like movies much either. And we all know what the first one's gonna be anyway.
1. Urban Cowboy. You think that's bad? It gets worse.
2. Saturday Night Fever. Look, I don't know what my thing with early Travolta is either. I just know it beats recent Travolta. And oddly enough, I never did have a crush on him--not when he was Barbarino, not when he was Tony Manero, not when he was Buford Uwen Davis, and, uh, certainly not now. I honestly don't know what my thing is with the dumb Travolta movies. Also, shut up.
3. Office Space.
4. Victor/Victoria. I used to use this as a dating suitability test: If you could watch this movie with me and admit (1) that it's totally hysterical, (2) that not all musicals suck, and (3) that it's not a damn chick flick, you passed.
5. Wow, I'm already having difficulty--no, wait! Team America.
6. Somewhere in Time SHUT UP, I know it's . . . look, this is why I'm not really your go-to person for film recommendations, okay?
7. That Star Trek movie, the one with the whales? Was it the fourth or the fifth one? Anyway, I loved that. Also, shut up. Again. I can't believe I have to keep saying that.

Seven Songs I Play Over and Over Again
1. "I Can Understand It," Bobby Womack.
2. "Ain't That a Kick in the Head," Dean Martin.
3. "Nothing Was Exchanged," Jules Shear.
4. "Fairground," Simply Red, and holy shit, I can't even tell you to shut up about that because I don't think I can shut up about that. That's just terrible. I should be very ashamed. And I am! Well, it does get worse.
5. "Why," Andy Gibb.
6. "Nice Work if You Can Get It," Frank Sinatra.
7. "Come and Get Your Love," Redbone.

WELL. That was exquisitely embarrassing. Why are these memes always so nosy?

And I guess now I have to pick on other people. Holler if you've done this already, and if you want to be cruel to someone, suggest an alternate for yourself. Bonus points if you pass the buck to someone you despise, and you tell me who it is in email.

Seven people to pass this on to (who will now never speak to me again):
1. Kenneth
2. Rob.
3. Margi.
4. Helen.
5. Meryl.
6. Ith.
7. Beth.

UPDATE: Rob's is up. Some of his choices have me going, "Damn, I forgot that one"--like asking what's for lunch a lot. The stupid thing is that I live by myself and work from home, and I still ask this. Daily. Out loud. Hello, Crazy Cat-Lady Land, here I come!

Rob was a true gentleman and didn't tag anybody, so you don't have to be afraid to go look. I also like what he did with the mutable category of "Seven Things That Attract Me to . . . ." In Rob's case this became "Seven People You'd Like to Have for Your Birthday Dinner"--not as part of the menu, you understand, but to have dine with you. Coolness.

UPDATE II: Here is Margi's. I got a movie recommendation from this, PLUS I love her birthday dinner guest list, PLUS she included a book I had at first put on, but then took off--The Great Gatsby. I can scarcely believe I bumped F. Scott Fitzgerald for Chris Rock. No wonder F. Scott drank.

Remember, kids: Writing doesn't pay. Unless you're Stephen King, and then it pays bunches; but, also, you're Stephen King.

UPDATE III: Helen begins hers by noting that she "fucking hate[s] memes." To which I can only add: I know, and so do I, and why did I torture everyone like this? Honestly, I have no idea, but I'm leaning towards "because I'm an imbecile."

Unsurprisingly, Helen reads better books than I do, has been more places than anyone else has, and definitely watches better movies than I do (not that this last is particularly difficult). The girl has got some culture! And I love that she blew off the seven songs with the explanation that she's "a mood chick," because really, if I'm being truthful, that's exactly how I am. It's true that the songs I listed tend to come up more often than most others, but that doesn't mean I play them every day, or all the time--and certainly not all together. I have to be in the mood for things, and many songs I love will bore me to tears if I'm not in the mood for them right at that moment.

Fun stuff. Go see.

Posted by Ilyka at December 26, 2005 05:43 AM in navel gazing

If you think this list is embarrassing, just wait until you see mine. You'll laugh and laugh and laugh.

Posted by: Margi at December 26, 2005 10:23 AM

Yes, you may encounter serious head injury as a result of tagging me for this.

But then, no one says I have to do it. Or even do it the way they say to. Seven? Too much.

Posted by: Meryl Yourish at December 26, 2005 12:21 PM

Some people do not float. I've known several people who could not float, and therefore had a very hard time trying to tread water. People generally "know" that everyone can float until they meet a counter-example. I remember one swimming teacher who carefully explained to us that as long as we relaxed we would float. One student, six feet tall and very thin, proceded to sink under water with only his thumbs showing, which he twiddled for about twenty seconds.

One of my uncles used to win bets by sitting on the bottom of a pond for thirty seconds, completely under water. He did not float.

- The Precision Blogger

Posted by: Precision Blogger at December 26, 2005 12:27 PM

Forget treading water, I can't swim, period. Despite having taken lessons for, oh, eight years. And WHY, you ask, did I take swimming lessons for eight years? Because my mother never learned to swim! And she regrets it to this very day! And she didn't want her children to not learn to swim and then regret it! Not that she ever learned to swim - she was too old to learn new things, after all - she just enrolled me and my brother in swimming lessons. (I don't think he can swim, either, though he can't possibly be worse than me.) It did not occur to her that perhaps there are sports that are better suited to asthmatic ectomorphs.

Posted by: Moebius Stripper at December 26, 2005 01:10 PM
Seven? Too much.

You know what, that is the damn truth. This took me way too long to do. And of course, the whole time I'm doing it, I'm thinking, "Didn't I already do something like this? Didn't I call it an 'about page'?"

Cut down to three it'd be manageable, maybe. But seven's a lot.

Posted by: ilyka at December 26, 2005 01:20 PM

The Trek movie with the whales was the fourth one. Don't even mention the fifth one. That was the one directed by Shatner, and it blew chunks.

I like "Somewhere In Time". That's a sweet little romantic movie.

My dating suitability movie is "Dead/Alive". I used it on The Count when we first met. I decided if he couldn't take a rat-monkey bite, three hacks with a machete, and a decapitation within the first fifteen minutes, he wasn't worth being with. That is our favorite movie. Zingaia!!! ;)

Posted by: The Countess at December 26, 2005 01:37 PM
The Trek movie with the whales was the fourth one. Don't even mention the fifth one. That was the one directed by Shatner, and it blew chunks.

Thank you, and I sure won't, because you're right. I remember having a sinking feeling about that one only 5-10 minutes into it, when the first fart joke was made. And that was even before all the dumb "who is God, anyway?" stuff hit full swing.

Oops . . . I mentioned it. Sorry.

Posted by: ilyka at December 26, 2005 02:07 PM

OK, I did it but was afraid to pass it on.

Posted by: Rob at December 26, 2005 06:45 PM

What Rob said. Heh.

Posted by: Margi at December 27, 2005 12:09 AM

For YOU, I do this. I am not good at memes, I think people will see them and think-this chick? Yeah. Not really interesting at all. What's on the TV?

Posted by: Helen at December 27, 2005 03:58 AM