I got tagged by one of those special internet thingy's where you have to write things about yourself. On the one hand, I am feeling kind of popular right now because someone tagged me. ME!!! Although, that is sort of like feeling "popular" after someone gives you mono. On the other hand, I am not the kind of person who passes along chain letters. I don't even feel guilty. Heck, I don't even read them--I just delete them. I am pretty sure that by now I am personally responsible for thousands of people not getting dishtowels, recipes, dollars, blessings or treats. Do you know how bad I am? I don't even GET the special treats left by Thanksgiving ghosts or Halloween Turkeys that you are supposed to then pass along to other families. Sigh.
I am supposed to share 5 things that people don't know about me. Here is the problem. For the people who know me, they know pretty much all about me. I tend to talk. A lot. I am also pretty open about most of my life. I am a transparent eyeball (anyone get this reference? Lisa?). Not about yukky things like hygiene and other subjects that have NO place in society no matter how close of friends you are, but things like how occasionally I want to sell my children to the gypsies, I like to read magazines like People and Us Weekly, I feed my kids refined sugar and let them watch TV and that I hate Renee Zelewiger. That kind of stuff. People who know me will already know this about me. I have been trying to think of things that most people won't know about me--and I am coming up empty. The very few things that aren't public knowledge really need to stay that way. Those that only know me via the blog world won't know enough about me to know the difference. See the problem? After much thought and contemplation, here is the list I managed to come up with.
1) My mom is the secret love child of Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. We had to keep it a secret for a long time but since both actors are dead now, it's OK to tell. Also, since the only celebrity gossip that gets printed nowadays has to be about Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton, no one cares anymore.
2) In high school I was offered the chance to be a runway model at Fashion Week in Milan, but turned it down because I really wanted to go to BYU instead. Then, I auditioned for- and got- the part of the girlfriend (Sloane) in Ferris Buelers Day Off, but turned it down because I really wanted to serve a mission. Finally, I had the chance to marry Steve Young when he was in law school at BYU. He begged me. Seriously. But, I turned him down because I just really don't like football and we all know that a life with Steve Young would have involved A LOT of football.
3) I won the lottery when I was on my mission. A HUGE one, but since we aren't supposed to gamble and most definitely aren't supposed to gamble when we are missionaries, I never told anyone. I gave the ticket to one of my investigators and we agreed to secretly split it--after we paid tithing of course. I live like a normal/poor person so no one will suspect.
4) I dated Carly Simon's son Ben Taylor in college (oh, the stories I could tell about being at his house for Thanksgiving one year...James Taylor got SO drunk......good times). He told me who the song "You're so Vain" is about. And he told me how she keeps her curly hair so shiny.
5) W. Mark Felt is a big fat liar. I am Deep Throat and Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein know it. They just let this Felt guy take the credit so people would QUIT ASKING THEM ABOUT IT ALREADY. He is kind of senile and really old so they didn't have to worry about him ruining the plan.
There is is. Now you all know everything that there is to know about me. It just occurred to me that any time I read one of these post where someone has been tagged, it always starts with "I really don't like these things but....". If no one likes them, then WHY do we all feel compelled to do them? I guess I will stay true to form and not tag anyone else. If I can be but a small part of stopping this madness I will have made a difference in the world. Well, the blog world anyway.