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About meQuick Facts
I'm pretty much this guy, but with short hair and a shorter attention span.
I give money, meals, and kindness to beggars, vagrants, and the indigent not out of any native generosity, empathy or virtue, but because I secretly hope that doing so will benefit me if I ever get into a fairy tale situation. It's also the same reason I kissed a frog (the psychedelic variety) and use a stone as a soup base.
Once, I gave money to a homeless man and was feeling quite proud of myself until he began to scream. I soon learned that by indifferently dropping my change into his cup, which had been filled to the brim with burning hot coffee, I had given money to a hipster, not a homeless man. I've never been so ashamed of myself. A hipster!
I'm also ashamed of what I once did for a Klondike bar.
Since you asked:
I am a champion at using common household furniture to safely navigate fields of lava. I am so skilled that whenever there is a lull in the conversation, I often find myself daydreaming it is socially acceptable to demonstrate this ability at parties, because I would improvise a kickass escape plan. This same yearning is also the primary reason I am afraid to drink.
On a completely unrelated note, I am no longer invited to Hugh's parent's house. It was not lava, but water. Lots and lots of water. Enough water to flood a kitchen, a dining room, and a good-sized living room.
While I'm on the subject of water and childhood fancies, thanks to names like the Black Sea, Great Salt Lake, Crater Lake and the Gulf of Mosquitoes, I once believed that there was a rule that the name of a geographic area must describe some unique, intrinsic attribute relating to said area. So I went in expecting Rhode Island to be an actual island and Lake Mead to be this fantastic Las Vegas tourist attraction filled to the brim with alcohol. Needless to say, I was disappointed. However, when I visited Lake Titicaca . . .
When my physics teacher was looking for something with which to demonstrate the properties of light, I seized the opportunity and convinced him to burn my report card using a parabolic mirror.
I want the United States to convert to the metric system, but I want that to happen only after I'm safely dead.
I love California, in the same way a Swedish hostage loves his kidnappers.
I have learned three foreign languages because of a girl and Morse code because of a bear.
I'm superlazy. It's pretty much the same as just being lazy, except sometimes I do it in a cape. It has done wonders for my self-confidence.
However, I wish I really had superpowers. If I could have any superpower, I would choose the ability to be invisible. I swear I would never abuse it; I would only use it for good, like picking fights with mimes. I would settle for a green bodysuit and a weatherman.
While we're on that subject, I also want a Ph.D. in kicking ass, taught by Inigo Montoya.
I used to think that an Adam's apple had to do with an actual apple in your throat.
I used to be afraid of biting into apples because I expected every bite to uncover a worm. It was a fear I had successfully suppressed for years until April 1st, 2012.
I can't recite the alphabet without lapsing into sing-song.
I can't read, hear, see, or even think about yawning without beginning to yawn. Heck, I once read the word "fawn" and began yawning.
There is nothing I hate more than yawning and then, about halfway through it, finding myself unable to continue.
You can probably guess what was happening while I was writing the previous two segments. The girl at the other bench is looking at me funny, as if wondering if I was having some kind of weird orgasm.
I thought the Necronomicon was real and George Eliot was a man.
If I'm thinking of a number between 1 and 10, the answer is 11.
I am ready for someone to tell me to not give up on my dreams, so I thank them and take a nap.
I lose the ability to make conversation when I'm talking to a woman. I often find myself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind--actually, my mind's absent, because it knows what's coming and wants nothing to do with it. Every. God. Damn. Time.
I once took a girl to the aquarium, which doesn't sound so bad. Except by now you should know me well enough to guess that what she really wanted to go see was "Phish."
I know. Phish. But I can't complain, because I like Cold Play. We were perfect for each other; it was a match made on a barstool.
I nearly froze to death because I went out jogging in winter and the sweat in my shirt froze it into a cuirass. In my defense, those those shorts didn't have any pockets so I had to leave the house without my common sense. Also, it was my first day in a New England winter, more commonly known to non-natives as an Ice Age.
Sometimes, if I'm reading and I see a picture of Morgan Freeman, I start reading it in his voice. It can turn a bad book good and good girls bad.
When I become old, before I succumb to dementia, I'm going to hire someone to organize an elaborate global scavenger hunt, change my name to Pellinore, have a Questing Beast built (either robotic or genetically engineered), and then succumb to dementia.
My favorite food is melted gummy bears, because that way, I don't have to look at their faces (also, I like the flavors all mixed together).
I used to believe that salt and pepper canceled each other out, so I never used them together.
I believe in unicorns and narwhals, but not in platypuses. And if you're honest, so do you.
I still hold my breath whenever I pass a graveyard.
I also hold my breath whenever I see someone go underwater onscreen so I can test myself against them. Sometimes, I cheat.
If I only had 24 hours left to live I would so sleep in. Like a boss. And turn into a jet (Seriously, I'm starting to get some control on this lucid dreaming thing--mostly as a response to the pop-up ads that keep appearing in them).
The best way to sum me is this: even though I managed to get two girls into an after party, it was my
best friend who ended up taking the both of them home that night. I make this joker look smooth.
If my ship ever comes in, I swear, you'll find me stuck in a slot canyon in the middle of the desert. True story.
My hobbies include:
- waiting in the wings
- putting the fun in funeral
- winning arguments in the shower
- not making money
- smelling like the Dickens
- avoiding similes like the plague.
- a lot of hooting, with just a little bit of nannying
- mastering the art of the single entendre
- leg pulling
About my libraryA Babelic palace that becomes grander and more wonderful (and unnavigable) every time a door is open.
Groups100 Books in 2009 Challenge, 1001 Books to read before you die, 1010 Category Challenge, 50 Book Challenge, 75 Books Challenge for 2010, Audiobooks, Book a Week Challenge for 2010, Book Care and Repair, Bookcases: If You Build/Buy Them, They Will Fill, Books off the Shelf Challenge —show all groups, Comics, FantasyFans, Feminist SF, Historical Fiction, Literary Stockholm Syndrome, NaJuReMoNoMo, Name that Book, Reading Globally, Science Fiction Fans, Spoiler Island, Taggers!, The Green Dragon, Time Travel, Alternate Histories and Parallel Worlds
Favorite authorsElizabeth Bishop, Gillian Bradshaw, Charlotte Brontë, Steven Brust, Lois McMaster Bujold, Anne Carson, Roald Dahl, Philip K. Dick, Michael Ennis, Robert Fagles, Alan Furst, Neil Gaiman, David Gerrold, Larry Gonick, Ursula K. Le Guin, Diana Wynne Jones, Guy Gavriel Kay, Barbara Kingsolver, Nancy Kress, Lawrence Lessig, Michael Lewis, Jack London, Maureen F. McHugh, Patricia A. McKillip, Mike Mignola, Alan Moore, Thomas Paine, Edgar Allan Poe, Michael Pollan, William Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Brian K. Vaughan, Bill Willingham, Jane Yolen, Timothy Zahn (Shared favorites)
Membership LibraryThing Early Reviewers/Member Giveaway
Real nameumop ap!sdn
LocationShangri-La-la-land (emphasis on the 'La-la')
Account typepublic, lifetime
Member sinceApr 19, 2008
Currently readingHellboy Library Edition Volume 6 by Mike Mignola
Swords Around A Throne: Napoleon's Grande Armée by John R. Elting
Natasha: And Other Stories by David Bezmozgis
Former People: The Final Days of the Russian Aristocracy by Douglas Smith