Do I really need to link Mama2Roo on this?
OK. Now. Part of the reason I'm doing this is to...make myself more accessible. I suppose I'm not that closed off, I'm quite emotionally available in my posts, but I feel like it's more in regards to adoption and to nothing else. I'm known more as a pissed off adoptee than as...whatever I 'really' am? I don't know that much is known about me outside of adoption. And I really have no idea to compile this, but I'm thinking just a list of random facts?
OK That works.
I live in Chicago. And I actually live in Chicago. Once I asked one of my interns where he's from and he said, "Suburbs," and when I asked which one, he replied, "Wisconsin." Sorry? Wisconsin is not a suburb of Chicago. In fact, it's a completely different state. I live close enough to 'The City' that I can see the Sears Tower from my front yard, and by 'front yard' I mean 'the sidewalk that runs in front of my apartment'.
I'm a consultant. I specialize in architecture, engineering, and commodity management. I hate my job. A lot.
I could chop vegetables all day. Really, I could chop anything all day, but I like vegetables. It's also been brought to my attention that I'm the only person on the planet who knows that if you cut the root end off of an onion then let it sit on a paper towel for a while before dicing it, it cuts down on the teary agony. Anyhow, I love cooking, and I love making stuff that I've never made before. If I've made it, it's not new or challenging. I love finding recipes that say things like 'Make sure you don't stop _____________ing the _____________ because if you do, it will _____ in to a big __________'. To most people, they read that as 'No don't try this just make some EasyMac and drink some grape Jarritos'. Not me. I read: CHALLENGE. And if there's anything I like, it's a challenge. (Not surprisingly, it's a quality I get from my birthmother.)
There are lots of things I can do without. I haven't had a TV since 2003 and I'm quite happy about that. When I tell people this, they say, "Are you serious?" as though my existence is somehow dependent on, like, The Sopranos or something. "Yes, fucker. I'm serious," I say. "What do you do with your time?" I read. I write. I cook. I bake. I volunteer. I arrange my possessions. I cycle. I clean my kitchen. I pirate music. And that is the one thing I can't live without. My iPod. My understanding is that MP3 players are seen very differently by people who, say, drive a car to work. There are people like me, who spend hours a week commuting, waiting for a train, a bus, a horse drawn carriage even, to come and take us somewhere we hate going but are obligated to be present at.
Me? I have a 160g classic iPod in black. Black is my thing. My iPod is black, my phone, my coat, and about 85% of my clothing. I get black pedicures. I use black pens. I LOVE black jelly beans.
My favorite places to buy clothing are Banana Republic, Gap, and American Apparel. Short of making my own clothes from wool I've carded and spun myself, that came from sheep I raised on a massive Scottish pasture that I bike to every day, I don't think there's any possible way to be socially responsible about buying clothing. Even American Apparel isn't as socially responsible as they (and, consequently, you) would like to think. No? You don't believe me? Google Dov Charney and just read what you find.
Regardless though, I still kind of love their clothes and would shop there more for work attire, if, you know, I sold a lot of cocaine and worked for an Indie magazine.
I can think of only one thing in the whole world that makes me squeamish: I hate watching men shave their faces. It looks painful to me. Really painful. When I lived with my ex, I requested that he please not even inform me when he was about to shave because it almost made me cry.
I have a massive blood blister under my right big toenail. I acquired it when I dropped a pudding cup on it two weeks ago. A PUDDING CUP. TAPIOCA IS DANGEROUS.
I love making people I don't know feel awkward. My favorite way to do this is by telling people 'No' when they fully expect to hear 'Yes'. If you can believe it, I was at the airport last month when a woman sitting a few seats down asked if I would please watch her belongings while she went to the bathroom. I said, "This is an airport. No." "No?" she said. I cocked an eyebrow, looked briefly to my left as if reconsidering, looked back and said, "No." She went to the bathroom anyway with the full understanding that even if someone walked over and peed on her luggage, my involvement would be nonexistent, and from the moment she left, I wished for nothing more than a shrink-wrapped brick of cocaine. Because who the fuck asks someone to watch their shit at the airport? CRAZY PEOPLE. THAT'S WHO.
Now back to the music. I love gangsta rap. LOVE. I've listened to rap pretty consistently since...1994? I can freestyle rap (though it really only happens when I'm drunk and I mean trashed drunk). I know who Pete Rock and CL Smooth are. I can listen to know who produced it, if the rapper is West Coast or East Coast, from the South or Midwest. This is hardly the only genre I listen to, but admittedly, I walked into a staff meeting and said, "Tell me what it look like tell me what it is!" This was rivaled only by the time our old Jewish CFO called our holiday gift exchange 'The Pursuit for Bling'.
And there you have it.