I was inspired to do this by an incredible photographer I have discovered on Flickr. He’s 3000 miles away and yet I still look forward to every message and photo posted.
I am typing this on the old Mac clamshell iBook my late husband bought on eBay for $100. That’s not the weird part, the weird part is that his hands were on this very keyboard when he passed away. He was typing to his whore of a girlfriend.
As I type I am watching Who Put the M in Manchester. I am currently cultivating my depression and excitement simultaneously as I get to see Morrissey in just a few weeks for the first time. I told a coworker once I wished I were a gay man so Morrissey would return my love. He told me I was beyond a fag-hag or a fruit-fly, that I was a gay man trapped in a woman’s body. Perhaps.
I won’t eat anything that’s artificially blue. Freaks me out. Those colors just don’t exist on edible things in nature.
I am a bit of beer snob and lately have become obsessed with something called Sunset Wheat. Although if it’s all that’s available you can force me to drink something nasty out of a can. But you’ll owe me big time.
I am OCD: I count the number of times I chew my food. I count my footsteps. If I step on a red square at the grocery store with my left foot I have to step on a right tile with my right foot too or I get a strange claustrophobic, anxious feeling over me.
I hate long toenails and obsessively clip my own. I have even clipped my best friend’s toenails.
I love cake. Can’t get enough of good cake, or tasty little cupcakes. Cupcakes make my day. I like to go to the IGA across the street before a holiday and buy a 35 cent cupcake because it comes with a little holiday-themed plastic ring stuffed into the frosting. And I will wear that cheap trinket for the rest of the day while I work.
I have a photographic memory when it comes to faces. I never forget people I’ve met. I’ve been known to freak people out when I recognize them and they don’t know who I am.
I never shave my legs. I use something called an "emjoi" which is similar to an epilady. This bitch is tough, that’s all I’m sayin’. I even use it on my underarms.
I think there’s a delicate balance between too much chest hair and a bare chest on a man. I know a man with perfect chest hair when I see him, but it’s inexplicable.
I had always been a cat person until I foolishly got not one, but two dogs. I can’t imagine my hectic life without the little buggers.
I am exceptionally proud that in the last year I dropped from wearing a size ten jeans to a size four. I may never be a size 2 again, but dammit, four will suffice.
I am the black widow of community theatre. I have not been in a single show since May of 1995 without a cast member losing a loved one. I also nearly killed my friend Angel during The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.
I only wear vanilla perfume and body lotion. I’ve tried straying and instead I wind up with a collection of body lotions that I unload on my 14 year old step daughter.
I am your typical woman I suppose, I collect shoes.
I have an ancient pair of electric blue Doc Martens that have been fully submerged in a river while I was shooting hot air ballons at 6 am.
I hate Valentine’s Day. Not for the traditional reasons, but because I once received the most insulting VD gift ever and have never recuperated. I was given a card that said "Doesn’t it feel like everyone except you is getting some?" and a vibrator. By my ass of a husband.
I am going to learn to play pool well enough to NOT make an ass of myself in public if it kills me.
I love flea markets. I love looking at other people’s crap. I hate flea markets that are full of vendors that have tube socks and paintbrushes. I want a REAL flea market with odd furniture and trinkets and dogs tied under tables and a great food stand with hot dogs. I crave Sundays in the sun looking at crap and trying to find "it" for the day.
I have no college education to speak of.
I am bound and determined to visit almost every state in the US.
I wanted nothing more than to move out of this shitty state when I was a kid, and now that I’ve lived ten years of my adult life here and grown attached to friends and activities here I can’t imagine leaving for more than a few years before needing to return.
I told my vet once that my dog is an asshole and I meant it.
I would rather clean a toilet than wash dishes. I hate leftovers.
Speaking of the kitchen I’m a mean cook.
I don’t enjoy eating oranges. By the time I’ve got them peeled and in pieces my hands are so sticky from OJ and I’ve put forth such an effort to reach that state that I’ve totally lost interest and have to go wash my hands and throw everything away in disgust.
I had a friend in high school who was one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Rather than write traditional notes to each other we would compose letters entirely of stick figures. I can still tell a stick figure story.
I had my left hand slammed in a locked car door when I was about three, and my fingers are all crooked on that hand to this day.
Three times in my life I’ve been carried out of a burning building. I am terrified of house fires.
I question everything.
When I was five I thought this woman we knew who had a lavender mohawk, tattoos, heavy black eyeliner, and a nose ring was the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. She may still be.
I sing everywhere. My car, my home, my office, the grocery store, wherever I damned well feel like it. No one has every asked me to stop, but I have received odd looks.
I love meat, but have a tough time preparing it. I am SO repulsed by raw chicken someone has to buy it for me, because I can’t go near the display case. I actually went over four years of my life not eating chicken.
My best friend in high school was Mister New Hampshire, 1994. You can’t make this shit up.
I refer to children who behave badly as birth control. I find nothing quite so offensive as the parent who thinks their child can do no wrong.
I was raised by hippies. When I was in preschool I’d tell people my favorite musicians were the Beatles, The Doors, and for some reason Boy George. I loved Boy George, yet I listened to The Magical Mystery Tour daily.
I’ve seen someone I love die.
I’ve never had a song written about me, but to date have inspired three poems. I hate poetry.
It’s my goal to write a Christmas show for my theatre group one of these years, about a Christmas party, and write it around my favorite Christmas songs. I think Christmas carols are some of the most enjoyable songs to sing.
I’m not sold on having my own kids but would surrogate for a good friend in a heart beat. I’m not using my uterus for anything I figure.
The closest thing I’ve had to a religious experience was making eye contact with a juvenile gorilla. Amazing.
I ask too many questions and therefore have yet to find a religion for me to follow. There may not be one.
I will one day beat someone senseless for saying the term "soul mate" in a positive way. I don’t know who, or when, but that point will come and I will break.
I love being at a concert and smelling the air when someone lights up a joint. I don’t use drugs, but damn that always smells good.
I’ve been high once, and I had something horrible happen to me, and that’s why I don’t use drugs. I hate not being in control.
Two men I’ve dated and loved are dead, one I married, the other was a scumbag but I didn’t know better.
I once spent three months listening to no other CDs or music except the album Grace by Jeff Buckley.
On a car trip from Winslow Arizona to Phoenix Dave and I listened to the same song by the Strokes the entire trip on repeat. I am still in love with that song.
I met a cute boy on myspace and we went out and played pool the other night, and I can’t remember when I’ve had quite so much fun. And that was it, we played pool and had some drinks.
I am a floss addict. I love to floss my teeth. I find extreme gratification in clean teeth.
I went to a performance of The Fantasticks once with my friend Tamara and her daughter and we found the bit about "beating a man in a monkey suit" hilarious. I have never laughed so hard before or after that day. Never.
I am horribly near sighted and wear glasses or contact lenses. I had perfect eyesight as a kid but after a few years working in a photo lab I looked up from the negatives one day and couldn’t see anything else.
My biggest pet peeve in the entire world is people not refilling ice cube trays. It’s enough to drive me to crimes of passion.
I have a scar on my right knee from playing kickball in a vacant lot in Nanuet NY when I was six. I was wearing jellies. I went down, and still have dirt in my knee, 20+ years later. It’s kinda neat.
I was once told I had wildly sexy ankles.
I enjoy talking to strangers. I may have been told too many times as a child to stay away from them.
I buy cheap toilet paper. I just don’t care. How often and aggressively are people wiping that this is an issue?
I think puppies are arguably the cutest creatures on the planet, and when you hold one and it falls asleep in and snores in your arms? That’s love.
I might not ever be sure how much I have warped my step daughter. But I know that she thinks I’m cool (now that she’s older that is), I know I make her laugh a lot. And I think I scared the hell out of her with my threats of what she would grow up to be if she got knocked up in high school. There’s a very strong potential she’ll grow up to enjoy mockery as much as I do.
I love butter. To hell with margarine and its trans fats. I want to die from natural causes. Like too much butter.
I have a friend who asks herself, "What would Jenna do?" because she doesn’t have the nuts to do half the stuff I would think of.
I think the truth is always funnier, stranger, and creepier than fiction. My life is proof.
Since my last trip to Las Vegas my coworker Jeremy and I have referred to each other as "Cockeyed Clams" at least once a day. And it’s just as funny today as it was two weeks ago.
Not only is Henry Rollins one of the finest commentators of our time on politics and pop culture, I’ve been enamored of him since I was in junior high. I saw the video for Liar and was blown away by the fact that his neck was one mass of muscles, that it went straight from his head to his shoulders. I had no idea why, but I knew then that he was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Still is.
I always wanted to excel at something cool like skateboarding; instead I found community theatre and spend my life being other people in front of large crowds.
I think Storyland, NH, is one of the best amusement parks in the country. I would be devastated by a summer without a trip to Storyland. Conversely, Funtown in Saco Maine is the Great Misnomer.
I finally broke down and bought thong underwear in the last year.
When I want to be left the hell alone so I can think I turn on the shower as hot as I can get it and sit in the tub until the water runs cold.
The ugliest argument I ever had was with my best friend. We went right for the throat. And we’re still friends and I can’t imagine my life without her opinions and laughter.
The scariest thing I’ve ever done was open the box containing my husband’s ashes and coming face to face with what’s left of him.
I’ve been known to have a Snickers bar for dinner. So what?
And my dog Gromit gets as excited as I do when we get to a drive through. He knows he’s getting a deep fat fried chunk of chicken in the shape of a nugget. Life is good when he and I are in the car together.
I love liverwurst. As frightening as that really is, but damn. Some spicy honey mustard, a nice cheese, a big buttery cracker, and a slice of liverwurst and I’m in gluttony heaven. Just let’s not discuss what I’m really eating. Please.
I snore. I have been known to drive people to sleeping on the couch.
I truly believe that A Christmas Story is one of the greatest films EVER. It has everything.
I love candy cigarettes and can’t believe they were ever marketed to children. And yet I was house sitting for my friend recently and she left her 10 and 11 year old kids with me for a weekend. I bought them candy cigarettes. I’m going to hell, but not just for this
I still think David Letterman is the finest of the late night hosts.
My hair has only been its natural color twice since 1993.
I wouldn’t say I’m terribly active, but when I want to go on a hike and take photos I want someone who can keep up with me. The perfect man would carry his own equipment, walk with me to that damned lighthouse on the Cape, and would gossip like a bitch and not mind dancing at a friend’s wedding. There has got to be someone like that
out there who refills ice cube trays.
I think the Foo Fighter’s version of Baker Street kicks ass.
I love my pink iPod nano. It holds enough music for some seriously good car trips, isn’t that really what we need? Good car trip music?
I am estranged from my mother and her side of the family. Maybe some day I could have a healthy relationship with them, but history dictates a big NO to that idea.
I love my blender. I use it at least once a week. One of my girlfriends has informed me I cannot put frozen peaches, orange juice, and liquor in a blender and call it a smoothie, and yet I do.
I know exactly where I was both times my heart broke. The first time was in a room at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center when I realized my husband hated me. The second time was the morning I found out he was dead.
It doesn’t matter how long I’ve lived in NH or even that I know what it is, but every time I hear loons calling on the lake at night it scares the hell out of me.
My ideal sleeping pattern would be going to bed at 2 or 3 am and getting out of bed around lunch time. I’m never tired until 2 am, and I’m never functional before lunch time. I am the living dead until lunch.
I think a man who wears jeans and a white t-shirt is incredibly sexy.
I am a car chick like you wouldn’t believe. I can work on cars, I love to drive a manual transmission, and I love old cars. The past year is the first year in my adult life I haven’t had a project car. I am also bound and determined to some day have a beautiful pink Vespa.
I am one of those rare people who actually knows why I don’t care for clowns. My parents hung a vintage Ringling Bros. poster on my bedroom wall. The clowns were more like hobos, with big boils on their faces and bad teeth. You try sleeping with those creeps looking at you.
I am a pack rat. I think it is a part of my OCD.
I never let my car get below a quarter of a tank of gas.
I wish I could play an instrument other than the kazoo. I learned acoustic guitar well enough to play two Joni Mitchell songs in high school, but I wouldn’t call that proficiency.
I do whatever I want, when I want. That sounds simple, but I know all too well how short life is. I don’t ever want to feel like I missed an opportunity or have a life full of "should haves".
I think nurses are some of the most special and important people on earth.
I had so much fun at a Halloween party at my friend Jeff’s house last year that I went out and bought a costume for this coming year. I will be a Playboy Bunny, I even bought pink high heels with little bows on them to match the costume.
I still get carded for beer and wine. Works for me!
I’m the one who scratches bug bites until I bleed. Cuz I’m a real lady.
I think SPF 50 isn’t quite enough.
When I look through the lens of my camera life is okay.
Tagged: , me , black and white , selective color , self portrait , tattoo , tattoos