I got tagged. Here in Alabama there are two choices for what tagging something could mean: first, I’ve killed a wild animal and I stuck a piece of heavy cardboard through its ear to show it to the game warden, or second I accidentally shot myself while hunting wild animals and the coroner has stuck a piece of cardboard through my ear to show me to the game warden.
I now know that it means that somebody tagged me on her blog and so now I’ve been tagged.
When I first read the notice that I had been tagged, my first thought was that this was some internet sex thing. I was about to cancel all my accounts online and have the internet connection shut off. But then I read it more closely and I saw that the creepy person who tagged me is actually a blogger I recognize and even though she’s really smokin’ hot and writes about shmexy vampires for a living, I don’t think she’s into me in THAT way. But thanks, Erica Lucke Dean, for thinking I’m totally tag-worthy.
Now I’ve gone back and read the fine print and it turns out that tagging isn’t going to get me laid or make me dead, and while only one of those is good news, it’s still a relief that nothing kinky is happening with my internet activity. So here are the answers to the questions that I’m supposed to post now that I went and got myself tagged up. I mean, tagged.
WHAT WAS THE HAPPIEST EVENT OF 2011?
Event like as in a holiday or event as in getting myself out of a situation without involving the cops, the paramedics, a lock smith, or the town Tarot reader? Um, I would have to say that getting to touch a dolphin in the ocean was pretty neat. See? We can see a wild animal without tagging it…
WHAT HAS BEEN THE SADDEST EVENT?
Huh. That one’s a stumper. There’s not a lot of sad going on around me because I have this eighth sense for sniffing out mood killers and running away like someone’s on fire. I guess not finding out my kid’s class was having a Christmas party and therefore making her be that one kid whose mom didn’t send anything. That sucked a lot.
ONE UNLIKELY THING YOU DID:
Here’s the thing, all this stuff that I do that shocks the shit outta me? Yeah, everybody else totally saw it coming. But something I did that I never really envisioned myself doing was getting my hair caught in the hinge on my kitchen cabinet and having to cut myself free with a steak knife from the drawer while my O.A. (occasionally asshole) husband stood there laughing really hard and absolutely not helping me.
WHO LET YOU DOWN?
The entire U.S. government. And the Auburn Tigers. And the undersea gods who make tsunamis and the weather patterns that make tornados. All of you pretty much sucked toe last year.
WHAT MADE YOU LAUGH?
Valium. Shut up, it’s medicinal.
WHAT MADE YOU CRY?
Hmmm. I don’t remember doing a lot of crying in 2011. Oh wait, some butt-muncher stole my dog and then it managed to get away, but then it was hit by a car. Yeah. Cried a little bit.
ONE THING THAT MADE YOU PROUD OF YOURSELF?
I made a completely amazing papier mache frog head for my daughter’s Halloween costume and it rocked. Technically, I did that back in 2010 but I’m still riding the high from that one.
ONE CHALLENGE YOU OVERCAME?
The parking garage. I finally learned how to get out of those things without needing my Garmin.
WHAT WILL YOU CHANGE ABOUT YOURSELF IN 2012?
That’s a dangerous question. What if I make all these grand plans and you people actually expect me to go through with them? We’ll start small with I’m going to finally learn how to multiply fractions. From there, I’ll work my way up to remembering to write down stuff in my checkbook register to keep my husband from having to call up all my usual haunts and ask them if I wrote a check in the last ninety days. He completely thinks about tagging me when I do that.
I’m sharing the love here by tagging Greg from DogsOnDrugs.com because I kind of secretly want to know all this dirt about him now that I found out just how many times he can toss the F-word into one conversation about grocery shopping. Yeah, buddy, I know you read this blog and there’s your name right there on the screen and you’re gonna be all, “Holy F! She F-in’ said my name! She’s so F-in’ amazing! I need to F-in’ grocery shop!” (I may be slightly exaggerating Greg’s amazement at this announcement. It may be more like, “Holy F! This is like an F-in’ chain letter that you gotta F-in’ keep goin’ and I don’t do that F-in’ stuff,” only I don’t think he would say “stuff” after saying the F-word that many times.)