Now, I did make a brief mention of my occasional daydreams of this red-haired vixen geek.
Back in July.
Sorry to disappoint you, Google oglers. However, if you had anything to do with the fact that a few days later my blog subscriptions increased by 33 percent, then God bless every horny one of you. For your trouble and your patronage, I give you this:
One random quirk deserves six more. For iMommy, MattDaddy and the many other bloggers who tagged me or awarded me yet more Pico y Arte (Spanish for "contagious lack of cash equivalent") awards in the last month, here are six random quirks of mine:
1. When my copy of Newsweek arrives, I employ the following methodology:
-- First, find and chuckle at the quotes and cartoons on the "Perspectives" page.
-- Skip back to read the "My Turn" column then curse myself for never submitting something because most of the ones they print are totally lame.
-- Finally, flip to the back-page column and, depending on the week, either wonder a) if Ambien CR pills are really ground up, compressed George Will columns that mention baseball, Tocqueville and/or the Federalist Papers, or b) how a woman as successful as Anna Quindlen can't get a better stylist for photo shoots. I mean, look at this:
2. I roll the toothpaste tube from the end. My Love, however, is a squeeze-from-the-middle kinda gal. When the police arrive, please let them know this.3. I put Tabasco on lasagna. Homemade or store-bought frozen, fresh from the oven or straight from the fridge, meat-filled or vegetarian, I douse it. My handiwork is rumored to have inspired that "smell of Napalm in the morning" line in Apocalypse Now.
4. When telemarketers cold call me for "charitable donations," I always say, "Yes! Please! Put me down for $50!" When the pledge form arrives, I feed it to the paper shredder. Eventually they call again, ask what happened to my pledge, I apologize and they send another form that I again shred. I got one alleged state firefighters' association to send me pledge forms six times. Suckers! **sniff** Is that smoke? Nope, just my lasagna.
5. See this scar on my knee:
Thirteen stitches from successfully blocking home plate so the go-ahead run wouldn't score during a baseball game at age 14. Unless you are my wife, my doctor or my massage therapist, don't touch it. Gives me the heebie jeebies. But if I pass out after one too many, it's fair game for you to draw smiley faces on it.
6. When the words won't come, I listen to one of two never-fail CDs: Utopia Parkway by Fountains of Wayne and Fizzy Fuzzy Big & Buzzy by The Refreshments. I've drafted many quarterly letters from CEOs to the beat of "Well I've been saving for a custom van/And I've been playing in a cover band/And my baby doesn't understand/Why I never turned from boy to man." Or the irony of this:
Oops, subscription numbers dropping again. Let's go down together, down together … and over to Humor-Blogs.com so you can give me a knee-worthy smiley face.