Friday, January 29, 2010

Too Much Information

Punch, JJ, Walking Man and the like may as well pass on by cause you ain't gonna like this. But I've got to do it 'cause Poindexter asked me soooo sweetly that I just couldn't refuse. Yes, it's a Mime, or whatever the hell you call them. Ten things about me that you didn't know and could care less about.
So here I go, laying bare my soul to the universe. Ten things about me you didn't know:
  1. I hate these things and, as I said, wouldn't be doing it except Dex was so nice about asking... well, sometimes you just can't turn down a pretty girl. But I want the world to know... THIS IS THE LAST TIME!
  2. I am not the Lone Ranger. But I do have a silver bullet.
  3.  Although I may sometimes appear gruff or surly, I'm really a big softy. Just don't cross me or I'll kick your ass.
  4. I have met one U.S. President and shaken the hand of three others. Carter, Kennedy, Nixon, Johnson.
  5. I once had lunch with John Glenn, the astronaut. When asked what it was like to blast off in a rocket he replied, “What do think it feels like sitting on top of a giant fire cracker built by the lowest bidder of a government contract?”
  6. I once had lunch with Jessie Owens, Olympic gold medalist. Very quiet and polite. Can't remember a single thing he said.
  7. I once farted in a crowded elevator. Someone else got the blame.
  8. I have never jumped out of an airplane. And don't intend to.
  9. I once drove a fuel dragster. Nearly peed in my pants.
  10. I started the rumor that Reagan slept with Jodie Foster. Just to piss Hinkley off.
So there you have it. Now you know me better than my mother.Now comes the difficult part. I am supposed to pass this along to three of my friends and entreat them to also lay bare their souls, or soles, as it were. No since asking someone whom I know will ignore it, such as the three miscreants mentioned above. And I do know that a lot of people like these things so it should be passed along to someone who, like me, will get into the spirit of it. And it should be passed along to bloggers I would like to know more about. So let's see...

The winners are: JenJen, Heidi and Diane.

So there you have it girls. Your turn. If your ears are burning, you know someone is talking about you.


  1. you are a softy, aren't you? Rubbing elbows with heads of state and olympians, but still a softy at heart. And I love you for humoring me in this way. Thank you Mr. C.

  2. My, my aren't we the Saturday morning conformist?

  3. Dex... Wouldn't have done it for anyone else. Except maybe Peach.

    Punch... learned from a master.

    WM... Friday night, after two martinis.

  4. you stinker! Fine, I'll play.

    I have a mish-mash post for Monday and this will be part of the mish.

  5. Not remembering the conversation with J.O. made me laugh. I'm not doing the list, but thanks for asking me to. I've been laid bare too many times already.

    I farted in front of a customer once, and then I gave her a dirty look like she was the one who did it. I think she might have thought she did.

  6. I see you called it a Mime (it's a meme), reminding me of the universal distaste for mimes.

    But really, now I know you so much better... ah, the intimate blogger, Mr. C. ;)

  7. I jumped out of an airplane once. It was fun-- you should try it.

  8. I'm with scarlethue...try it once...sans the chute.

  9. I did read this before. I remember some of your answers. I guess I didn't pay close enough attention to #1. I don't blame you. It is a chore coming up with answers and people to pass it on to. I'm not going to give them up yet. But I may start bending the rules a bit.
    I thought it was Virgil Grissom that made the statement about sitting on top of stuff made by the lowest bidder. Or maybe they all did one way or another.
    I have jumped out of an airplane 9 times in the Army.
    And I've farted in public enlosed areas.

    Otherwise you got me beat.

    Thanks for visiting my blogs.

  10. Gregory... jumping out of an airplane in full combat gear beats everything I did... except maybe the fuel dragster. A fire-breathing monster intent on killing you. And in those days, you sat behind the motor with the clutch between your legs.


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