Welcome to my “All About Me!” page. You are in for a treat because I am a very fascinating….nooo….above average…..uhm…..normal…..ahhh….person. Yeah, let’s go with that and jump right into the excitement.
I’ve worn out one husband and have started on a second. In my own defense, the first husband was made of all the wrong material. He chafed and binded and crawled up my crack like an ill-fitting pair of pants. Dress pants with pleats and rigid creases and fall apart when the going gets tough. Pants that aren’t made for the rigors of every day life where some times you have to get dirty and physical in order to survive.
I was determined not to make the same mistake twice. I was looking for substance and maturity. So the second one is much better made. He’s rugged and durable and handy like a pair of cargo pants with lots of pockets and a good fit in the crack. He’s been around the block a few times….a lot of times…..too many times to count…..but that just means that he’s seen it all and there isn’t much that surprises him. It also makes him soft and squishy in all the right places. This one is a Viking and can take a dent or two without blinking. I’m sure this one is a keeper.
Moving on….
My father’s genetics have given me man hands, big feet and a permanent position in the back row of every group photo. My mother’s genetics have given me big boobs which is probably a good thing because it distracts people from my hands and feet. On the down-side, short men have a great view and rarely look me in the eye. And somewhere in the genetic stew I was born with bright blonde hair while both parents and my siblings all have dark hair. Dad said the Milk Man was blonde but he turned out to be a man of the cloth (the Milk Man, not my Dad) so I don’t think that’s where my blondeness comes from. Or maybe it is. Who knows? I’m not judging.
Okay…..what else……this is harder than it looks!
Oh! I have a birthmark shaped like a vagina on the bottom of my left foot (I took off both socks to double check which foot it’s on before I realized that I really only had to take one sock off). I have a black cat that looks like Elizabeth Taylor but acts like Mike Tyson and a gray cat that looks like Sean Connery and acts like him, too. And in case you’d like to know, I was born 6 days before the Great Alaskan Earthquake*. I like to think that the whole world was quivering in anticipation of my arrival. But that’s just me.
And that’s about it. Who knew I had that much to say about myself? To be honest, I didn’t think I’d make it beyond the 2nd sentence so I’m counting this a ‘win’. I take them where I can get them.
* I can never remember how old I am – probably because I don’t care – so when someone asks me how old I am I have to stand there and do math in my head and that’s not easy with the millenium in the middle. So, instead of me doing the math, I give this answer which makes you do the math. Brilliant, right?