1. When I was sixteen on vacation in France with my parents, in very broken french I told the man hiring out Windsurfers at a lake that "mais oui, indeed I could windsurf/surf-de-vent." [Translate "I've seen people do it, so, like, how hard can it possibly be???"] Going out on the lake was relatively simple--because the wind was behind me. Yeah, I can stand on a board with a sail and be taken off by the wind/current. What skill! Then comes the small task of turning the thing around and heading back to the beach. One hour later, many increasingly dramatic attempts to heave the sail out of the water, and ever deepening plunges into the water.."can't. hold. on. much. longer. so. weak. so. very. very. weak. save. me. please... someone. gasp...."--i am finally rescued by a bemused and hairy french couple in a pedalo.
2. And so you'd think I'd learn. But no. Fast forward to my first spring break in the U.S. and a road tour to Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Asked by my friend, "Can you ski, Joy?" I reply "Yes! Bit rusty though!" [Translate: "Not. At. All. Unless you count skidding across the cow field on a pair of men's cross-country skis at the age of eleven..."] We arrive for our first day and mutually agree to forgo the green slopes--let's go straight for the blue! Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. (gulp) Up. in the gondola. I look so the part in my ski-suit. Surely I must be able to ski! Off the top, spiralling out of control, into skis, into hunky ski instructors, somehow find my way to the slope, and find only way to stop and avoid certain death is to throw myself bodily into the side of the mountain. After about 10 minutes, I am found clinging onto a tree trunk for dear life, muttering "can't ski, y'see, can't ski... so sorry, so sorry..." I got a stern talking to by the rescue man on the snow-mobile, I can tell you, and it was HI-larious being the only person to go on the down-gondola and see all the crowds of people and their small children in the up-gondola waving and pointing to you from across the valley...
3. As a child I was a pathological liar about certain things (you can see a pattern emerge, can't you?) and managed to weave an extremely elaborate yarn about being an actor on my favorite television program of the time--Robin of Sherwood. I played Robin and Marion's adopted daughter, you see. I have memories of reciting my "lines" and showing my merry-men moves to my admiring audience. Oh, and when i say "child," I think I was about fourteen.
4. As a small child I never once made it to a school christmas party. These were held on the last day of term at my Church of England school, and I would always bring a plate of fairy cakes to share. The problem was, each year I would become so utterly over-excited by the whole prospect of the afternoon shin-dig, that by lunch I was holed up in the girl's loos chucking up for England. My mummy's feet would appear under the door, "time to go home, love," and I would sob and wail my way through the corridors, wearing my paper crown, and looking in sorrow at the long tables of crackers, tinsel, cakes, and jelly.... And when I say I never made it once, I really mean it. Never. Once.
5. But funnily enough, I have not puked once since I was eleven, having developed a pathological fear of it (hmm, never saw a connection before now). And there have been times when I would have liked to have been able to purge, let me tell you. For instance, when I had a brief but near-deadly dalliance with Pernod and Black during my teen years, and then the three horrendous weeks of salmonella in 1997 (nope, I did not even puke with salmonella. and who puts raw egg into mashed potatoes anyway??)
6. See that?
It is delicious lard. Gently nestled next to the LIGHT sour cream in my refridgerator. Had enough now???
So, according to MOM 101, if one eradicates the "meme-iness" from one's meme post, one allays chances of one's reader coming across one's post and saying "oh fuckety fuck, not another goddamn meme..." so i have edited this entry to trick any new readers into thinking that this is a real post.
SO! Sunshine Scribe , who, writes the "Chronicles of a mother, partner, friend and ever-evolving woman who is finally learning to bask in the sun..." and yet managed to play a series of whorish characters in high school productions, well, she tagged me for this little lady "Six things about me you didn't need to know." And in turn, I have to tag SIX mofo people! Coz it's all about the SIX, y'see.
ok, so now for the tagging. let me see.
--weaker vessel (so she is not forced once more into auto-erotic memification, or "tagging herself" sad wench that she is)
--zelda (because, thanks to you I got caught up in lost-blogging today, so it's payback time)
--neva (or at least, 6 things about sophie;-)
--sherriff (yes YOU sherriff)
--elizabeth (because I know where you live...)
--mega mom (too bad if you've been tagged for it before, baby. my clammy hands are on you too)