Damn. Just as I'm getting over this archeopteryx flu, I got Twitter-tagged by @sniffyjenkins. In an effort to *quickly* sanitize myself before the contagion worms its way into me, here are...
Seven Things you (Maybe) Don't Know About Me1. Do NOT drop that bar of soap. I spent three *glorious* days as a guest of the Centre County Sheriff when I was 18. As I was behind in doing laundry and didn't have clean underwear that day, I was wearing baggy swimtrunks instead. Three days. Jail. Swim trunks. Yay.
The story, after far too many tellings over the years, is far too boring for me to repeat. I'll just hit a couple of my favorite grace notes:
- Fat, middle-aged, pig-faced (really, pug snout and round, jowly cheeks) cop telling me his mannish, be-mulletted partner "wouldn't hesitate for a second in blowing my brains out" if I should run. Uh-huh. Honestly, I was far more afraid I might have misjudged her orientation and she'd hit on me. Because *that* would have been terrifying.
- I didn't have any damn shampoo. You ever wash your hair with bar soap? Oh. My. God. I think that (well, and maybe the years of dying, stripping, redying) might have contributed to the sad, early demise of my thick, lustrous locks.
3. ...and I'm a Physics major. I acted quite a bit in my youth. High school of course, but college, community theater, and even one production in which I was *paid* (I carried a halberd around for a few weeks even after I pointed out to the director that a a halberd is good in the field, but not a dungeon.) In college, my Calc 3 professor got all up in my grill about not being free in the evenings when he gave his exams.
Douchebag: "Most of the students taking this class are math and engineering majors..."
Your Hero: "Yeah, well, I'm a Physics major and I signed up for a day class for a reason."
Victory for moi.
4. Look, up in the tree, it's Dogboy! While it's not what it used to be, my hearing is still really, really good. Used to be, the whine of a CRT turned on with no input signal would make me look like Clark Kent in the scene where Luthor's sending the hypersonic signal. I can't hear the high end quite like that anymore, but I'm still sensitive. Too sensitive.
Back in high school, I played just one season of football (for my non-American readers, that's the manly game with helmets, pads, and homicidal tendencies, not the poncy game with nancyboys kicking a ball around like a bunch of girls) in high school because practice ended up cutting into nap (and later) sex time. That, and I wasn't great. I was good enough, but I was too slow to play end or linebacker, so I played offensive and defensive tackle. At my size, I was never going to be a star. But, I was adequate.
Anyway, in addition to the O- and D-lines, I played comparable positions on special teams and was the center of our kick receiving team. One game, we won the toss, set up to receive, and the opposing kicker smacks a line drive right at me. Good hands, so I caught the ball and started running right back at the kicker. Now, while I might not be fast, I am solidly built. I also have the advantage of running at a team spread field-wide and unprepared for someone to have the ball yet. At worst, I should be able to barrel over the kicker and pick up 20 or 30 yards on top of the already great starting position.
But no. Dogboy. I hear my lineman coach yelling to take a knee. And like an idiot, I did. To everyone else, it looked like I ran five yards and fell. Ugh. You know how many times I had the ball while on my feet? That was the one. Still pisses me off to this day.
5. I know I said I'm not fast, but I'm quick. People have this mistaken impression when they see me that I'm a lumbering sort. But I cover a *lot* of court. It usually takes a set or two on a tennis court until people realize it's not a fluke, that I'm going to get to their drop shots, lobs, and passes unless they make them really good. It helps that I get to catch my breath when I'm serving.
6. As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly. I got a *nasty* case of salmonella in college from some bad duck at my (formerly) favorite Chinese restaurant a couple towns over. For two weeks I had nasty, foul smelling, watery bile coming out both ends of my GI tract. Seriously, seriously sick. And you know what? I now know *exactly* what salmonella smells (and tastes) like. The bacteria give off a very particular bouquet. You'd be amazed at how much raw chicken I've thrown out over the years. I'm now *very* particular about my poultry suppliers.
7. Back when it was all original. I like Sports Night better than The West Wing. You know, before Sorkin starting
Now, I hate the whole tagging thing. But I'm a carrier now and my job is to spread this virus, so I'll be pinging