You want to know more of me?

Random fact that is not about me: The blog title comes an interaction a friend had with a fellow she'd shared a few liplocks with. He was trying to persuade her to do a little more, to which she replied "I don't even know you!"

What a kind offer.

Anyways, I oddly enjoyed the reflection involved in my last post. Though at first it feels strenous to come up with random personal facts about oneself, once you get into the mindset, a whole whack of randomness comes pouring out. There may even be the chance of getting to the much revered 100 Things About Me status.

No guarantees, but here's another eight facts about yours truly! (with several others jotted down for future bloggings when ideas are sparse)

#9 - When my high school grad class magazine (a pet project of our journalism class) came out, there was a section on apparently witty future predictions. Mine? I would apparently go into the Guinness Book of World Records for wearing the highest pair of platform shoes. I would regularly come traipsing down the hall in some 70s inspired wooden 4-inch monstrocities.

The irony of this is that now, in my advancing old age (sarcasm! I swear!), I can barely manage a night in heels.

#10 - When I was young, my sister and I each were allowed to get a hamster. I chose the tiniest little black and white critter, and named him Pepper. We set up Pepper and my sister's hamster (T.B., short for Teddy Bear-- he was brown and she was 7, so it made sense) in their cage, and then left for a while. When we returned, Pepper was nowhere to be found.

Ever again.

He was so teeny that he must have squeeze out of his cage bars. We used to joke that their was a mutant hamster living in our heating ducts and roaming around at night.

#11 - My blood sodium content is likely through the roof at any given moment, because I consume more dill pickles than any human being should. It is nothing for me to finish a jar in less than a week. In fact, it is probably a blessing that pickle jars weigh so much, especially when one's arms are weighed down with other groceries, otherwise my spleen may soon be floating in brine.

#12 - I was what was called an "early developer" in elementary school. As such, I was introduced to the wonderful world of supportive undergarments before I had much peer support on the manner. One of the things my mother forgot to tell me? The fine art of pairing the right bra with the right shirt. As such, it was only at the end of the fifth grade that I discovered, given my propensity for white t-shirts, that my entire class was familiar with my purple polka dotted bra.

#13 - The weirdest thing I have ever eaten is a chicken foot. I was going for dim sum for the first time ever, and decided in advance that, in the spirit of the occasion, chicken's feet would need to be consumed.

I wasn't terribly impressed. They just tasted like an excess of chicken skins that had to be delicately nibbled from around many nooks and crannies than made up the joints and bones.

#14 - Compared to the tremendous dichotomies that made up my first and second kisses, my third was decidedly more typical and uneventful. I was playing truth or dare with a girl friend, a boy she likes, and two other boys on a bridge overlooking a creek. She had been dared to kiss the boy she liked (as was the entire purpose of the game) and then, in an attempt not to make the whole game look indulgently motivated, she dared me to french kiss a chubby boy I had just met, for some predetermined length of time (likely 30 seconds). All I remember is our teeth bumping together- hard.


#15 - When I was a kid, I had an odd fascination and fear associated with volcanoes. I frequently dreamt about dramatic lava filled explosions. Worsening this aversion was a friend's assertion that all mountains whose names began with the word "mount" (e.g., Mount St. Helens, Mount Everest) were actually volcanoes, whereas those ending in "mountain" were not. Thus, on family trips I would frantically search the map for the cursed word "Mount", and would be unnaturally tense all the while we were in the vicinity of one of these secret molten giants.

#16 - Perhaps it comes from the childhood fantasies involving my stuffed bunnies coming to life when I was asleep, or having been read the Velveteen Rabbit a few too many times, but I imbue some seriously human characteristics to stuffed animals. I get a sick feeling at the pit of my stomach whenever I see a neglected teddy bear . Even worse is going to the thrift store when they have bins of them for sale. I always have to fight the urge to rescue some ratty raccoon with sad eyes.