random things about me

It looks like I’ve been tagged team by Spyder and Erin to tell eight random things about me.  Here we go:

1. One of my career aspirations in junior high was to work in a place where I could wear suits like Susan Dey wore in L.A. Law.  Hmmm, dress code probably isn’t the best reason to pursue a career…

2. In junior high, I had a huge crush on George Michael. I still own most of his CDs.

3. I got a bloody nose from a flying beer pitcher in a bar.  I stood there momentarily stunned, bleeding into my libation. Thankfully, one of the staff members knew exactly what to do… he brought me another drink.

4. I know from experience to never again eat Mexican food before an overseas flight.

5. After my first car accident, an ambulance was called and a paramedic asked me questions… my name, the date, who the president was. When I said the president was Hillary Clinton instead of Bill, the paramedic laughed and said I obviously didn’t have any brain damage.

6. During a year in college, I worked in a daycare. The little ones were supposed to call me Miss Michelle. That was a tongue twister for 2 and 3 year olds, so they called me Miss Chelle instead.

7. I broke one of my index fingers during a game of touch football. I re-broke the same finger a few months later playing basketball.

8. I saw my first set of breast implants in an Easy Rider magazine when I was in 5th or 6th grade. At the time, I didn’t know that the woman in the magazine had implants, or even what implants were … I just wanted to know how I could make my boobs grow perfectly round like hers.

Okay, so now it’s my turn to tag a few people. Erikka at Cubicle Gangsta, Chris at Farmer Bob, Sharon at her MySpace blog, and Nuclear Buffalo

random run-in

Last weekend, I found myself in a department store fitting room, eavesdropping on the conversation of two other women.  In my defense, it’s not like I can turn my off my ears. These ladies were in the fitting rooms next to mine.  They were trying on bikinis and deciding which ones looked best… completely normal for June.  

Then their conversation turned to the logistics of bikini bottom removal while wearing high heels. And what imperfections the black lights will and won’t hide. Yes, I was in the fitting room area with some strippers.  My brain went into porn store clerk mode and I wanted to asked where they worked, but some decorum snuck in and shut me up, dangit. So now I can’t tell you where to go to tip these dancers… except the obvious place of their new bikini bottoms.