A while back Chris Kelly "tagged" me in a blog entry of his, as he'd been "tagged" himself. And what is this madcap game of blog tag, or "blag," which is an obnoxious term I just created in a self-satisfied manner? In the words of Chris, because I'm too lazy to summarize myself, "In case you are unaware, being 'tagged' is when you are forced to write an entry not about something you want to talk about, but instead about five random secrets or little known facts about yourself because someone else has told you to in their blog."
As it so happens, I don't have anything I want to talk about, so thank you, Chris, for blagging me.
Five Points of Interest About Me That Will Likely Make You Question Why You Associate With Such a Person:
1. I really and truly want a nose job. I think part of it is that this isn't the nose I was born with. In the fourth grade, a kid running down the hall slammed into me with supernatural force and broke my nose. So it has slowly but surely morphed into a different nose. I know, plastic surgery is a terrible thing to want. It goes against every aspect of my personality. And if you break it down, it makes less and less sense. For one thing, if anyone I know talks about plastic surgery, I chastise them. Only because I think they're perfect and why on earth would they want to change? They should be happy and proud of who they are. I hold myself to different standards unfortunately. I think I should look like Kate Winslet and every day I wake up and look in the mirror and I don't see Kate Winslet staring back at me, I am angry at my face for being so uncooperative. And it's not like I have this hideous, crooked nose. It just gives me a Jewish/Persian look. And ironically, I think Jewish and Persian men and women are beautiful. So why don't I think of myself as beautiful? I dunno. But also, I was born with so little space between my nose and upper lip to begin with, that I'm afraid my nose is going to close the gap and then I'll just have to stick a wart on my face, put on a pointy black hat, and call it a day. My nose passes over my upper lip when I smile! Damnit, that ain't right.
2. Welcome to my contradictory nature, folks. For fact #2 is that a picture was taken of me recently, in which I think I look fucking gorgeous. It was using Patty's MacBook. If you're unaware, the new Macs have this built in camera. They've created a program called Photo Booth that allows you to take pictures with the camera, using many different effects. So without Photoshopping anything, you can immediately have sepia, black and white, something called "glow," a myriad of different morphing features, all sorts of different things. My favorite one was "Comic Book." So we took some Comic Book pictures and in one of them, I think I look amazing. To the point that I found myself staring at it for minutes at a time. Like, I was attracted to myself. It was the most intense bout of narcissism I've ever experienced. I wanted to make out with myself. If I'd seen this image of me in a pool, I'd have tried to kiss me and drowned. I had it up as my MySpace profile picture for a couple days, but got so sickened by my own vanity that I had to choose a different default picture. It's still in my collection of pictures, but blech, I just couldn't stand myself when that was my main image. Which is, I guess, a return to my feelings in Fact #1. I just can't take myself seriously, which is why I'm usually making some stupid face in pictures. Here's the shameful image, if you're curious about what turns me on about me, because seriously, look how amazing my lips look in this picture:
3. The song up on my MySpace profile right now is Dinah Washington singing "Teach Me Tonight." I had no idea it inspired these feelings in me when I put it up, but it kind of makes me want to tear all my clothes off and make out with someone. I don't know if that fits my shame theme, but it's pretty silly and a little odd. I mean, who knew Dinah Washington was such a turn-on of mine? Then again, maybe you should visit my profile, give the song a listen, and just see if you don't also need to grab someone and eat their face.
4. Last August, there was a slight scare that I might have cervical cancer. They found some abnormal cells with my pap smear and had to do a biopsy. I was totally convinced I had cancer. Not just in that human-drama-of-expecting-the-morbid sort of way, but because never, NEVER! in my life have I not had the crazy thing doctors thought I might have. Meningitis, scoliosis, the brain defect - I mean, my whole life was a series of "You have this crazy thing and we have to take action right away." So when the test came back benign, I found that I was disappointed. I was like, "Oh, man, what a letdown." I wasn't used to having a clean bill of health. That ... is fucked up.
5. When I was 13, I inadvertently cut the nail on my left big toe too short. It became ingrown. Ever since then, that toe has had a recurring ingrown nail problem. Like, every few years, it'll happen and I have to walk on it gingerly because it's so grossly infected. It's not my fault anymore, it just happens on its own. I won't even have clipped it recently and all of a sudden, it's motherfucking swollen and purple and infected. It's happened twice in the past five months or so. It's happening now. It's disgusting. I think this time it might require medical attention.
There. I have now assured that I won't have sex again for years and years.