Writing or Typing has tagged me with a Meme (in Sevens), and now I’m it. Resistance is futile. I must comply.
Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die:
1. Write a novel, and not a novel-in-stories, but a real novel novel.
2. Learn how to make pottery.
3. Visit the Insectarium in Montreal.
4. Visit glass-blower’s studios all around the country; interview them; make a documentary.
5. Read all of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past.
6. See the Jellies: Living Art exhibit at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
7. Buy a house not because I want the house so much, but because then I could have a dog!
Seven Things I Can Do:
1. Play the piano.
2. Type 100+ words per minute.
3. Make a Tiramisu and other utterly frivolous desserts completely devoid of nutritional value.
4. Crochet eccentric hats and afghans.
5. Very basic HTML.
6. Drive stick-shift (because let’s face it, you aren’t really driving if you aren’t driving stick shift).
7. Put together put-together furniture all by myself, even with dubiously written instructions.
Seven Things I Can’t Do:
1. Games involving flying projectile objects.
2. Blithely drink shots of tequila anymore without embarrassingly serious repercussions.
3. Tolerate discriminatory asshats and their discriminatory asshattery.
4. Indulge the arrogant delusion that I can smoke “just one cigarette” without falling off the wagon altogether and becoming a smoker again.
5. Achieve alertness immediately upon waking in the morning.
6. See past my nose without corrective eyewear.
7. Be happy without cats.
Seven Things That Attract Me to People of the
Opposite Same Sex:
1. Needs her space to pursue her own quirky life and pastimes, so therefore respects my space.
3. Terrific sense of humor.
4. Loves animals and treats them with gentlenesss and compassion.
5. Treats people with kindness and empathy.
6. Sturdy, strapping, curves, robust.
7. Willingness to indulge in obsessive sushi consumption.
Seven Things I Say Most:
1. “Sushi, anyone?”
2. “Dont make me get up!” (To the cats)
3. Any possible variation on the F-word because I love the F-word to distraction: Fuck, fucking, fucked, fucker, motherfucker, motherfucking, fucktard, fucknugget, fuckwit, fuckwitted, fuckwittage, fuckitty fuck fuck fuck.
4. “Clusterfucked” (At the end of the semester)
5. “May you be cursed with having to wear a colostomy bag!” (In the event of egregious and dangerous driving transgressions that bring forth my inner road rage. I know. That’s sort of shocking and horrible. I don’t know what gets into me.)
6. “What a poor neglected kitten you are. It’s kitten abuse!” (To the cats, in the midst of mollycoddling them on their backs and rubbing their generous tummies.)
7. “Mwah mwah, mwah mwah mwah mwah.” (To my students. In Peanuts-ese.)
Seven Celebrity Crushes:
1. Elizabeth Bishop (But not in a creepy necrophilic way or anything. I know, I know . . . she’s dead. That’s weird. Suck it up.)
2. Jeanette Winterson
3. Amy Bloom
4. Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg
5. Jean Rhys (Also dead, I know . . . I suck at this celebrity crush thing.)
6. Jeri Ryan (But only as Seven-of-Nine–none of that Boston Public or OC shit.)
7. James Gandolfini (I know. WTF. Don’t bother asking.)
Seven People I’m Tagging:
1. Excellent Danger
2. Early Hours of Sky
3. JadedJu feels my vibe, but Can.Not.Do.A.Meme (She’s MeMe snob!)
(I’m tagging you all by ESP, so see if you can feel my Top-Secret Brain Vibe Tag and respond accordingly! Should you successfully receive my Top-Secret Brain Vibe Tag, I will then reveal your identity on the list so that readers may gasp in wonder and delight at these Amazing Kreskin-esque maneuvers.)
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