Seven Things

Tagged by DarkoV and, truth be told, nothing better to write about - this was going to be another post-free weekend - try to write seven random things about Me-Me-Meeeeee! that you probably don't know. The problem I have with this kind of thing, as you surely must know by now, is a characteristic pre-onset Alzheimer memory. I may remember tales from the old days, or whenever, but I won't recall that I've bored you with them before. And though I may have seven things to tell you now, guaranteed I'll have forgotten four of them after writing the first three. That ought to count as one thing right there?

1. I gave my boys The Talk - yeah, that one - completely impromptu while hopelessly drunk at our Halloween Party and dressed-up as morning-after Patsy from Ab-Fab. This was around the time our second eldest broke his voice, so to speak. Thing is, I only sputtered half the story - the "soon ye'll be wantin' tae spread yer seed all over the place" part - before the bastards ran away. Reduced to shouting "but don't you DARE!!!" at their fleeing backs.
   
   
2. At dire risk of incurring the Wrath of Fate, in forty-four years I've never broken a bone, despite numerous futile attempts. Sure, I've fallen forty feet off a rope swing into gorse bushes, and I've ripped or torn every ligament in my body; but so far, tap head touch wood, no broken bones. Although... it must be said, last time I was really drunk - must be seven years now - I think I cracked my thumb? It hurt like a bugger for months afterwards. But it wasn't broken - fractured at best. What a night that was. Last time I got drunk, and the very last time I drank whisky. Or "Satan's Semen", as my wife prefers we call it.
   
   
3. We married in a taxi, in a drive-thru Tunnel of Love - but I can't imagine you haven't heard that already? Best. Day. Evah! It was the same taxi, turns out, that had driven us from the airport to the Clark County Registrar, where we fetched the license. By the time we came out, our driver had reached the front of the line. They gipped us on the service, though - we asked for non-religious, but they sent out a preacher anyway, who leaned in the window and gave us - three of us, including the driver - the "Dearly Belovèd. We are gathered here today..." line.
   
   
4. I was right!
   
   
5. Oh - I've been run over by my own car. My last house, back there, was a cottage stood on a main road, with only a narrow sidewalk between its door and the road. I'd parked in front, and was unloading all the shopping for Christmas dinner from the trunk when some other driver plowed into the front, pushing the car - and me underneath, clinging desperately to the back - fifteen feet backwards down the street. It was a hatchback, and rather luckily I'd been leaning in to the trunk when the other car hit. I'd no real idea what was happening until it was over, but remember my car lurching in to me, and the tailgate whumping down on my head, and my arms being caught on the lip.
   
   
6. That same car was stolen twice in one week. The first time was the night John Major won re-election as UK Prime Minister - that was bad enough. The car was recovered, but had been vandalized. So we got it fixed, and the day we got it back from the shop it was stolen again. It was discovered - gutted, no engine, no wheels, no seats - in a lock-up garage some weeks later.
   
   
7. I have no hair in my armpits: almost as embarrassing in my youth as the puppy-fat man-boobs that never did go away when I was twelve, like my mother swore they would. Well, they're not entirely Kojak: there is some hair there - maybe five or six each side - but imagine if you can the whisperied chins of those ladies we sometimes see who are desperately intent on enhancing their masculinity, and have tried to goatee? Like that.
   
   
8. I once watched Goldfinger dubbed in german, with a very good impersonation of Sean Connery's voice. "Ich heisshe Bondt. Jamesh Bondt". Almost as funny as watching the Blues Brothers on the same channel:
   
   
   Penguin: Es betrübt und verletzt mich, daß die zwei jungen Männer, denen ich anhob, um an die 10 Gebote zu glauben, zu mir als zwei Diebe, mit schmutzigen Öffnungen und schlechter Haltung zurückgekommen sind.
   

   (It saddens and hurts me that the two young men whom I raised to believe in the ten commandments have returned to me as two thieves, with filthy mouths and bad attitudes.)
   
   

That'll do - always a struggle when forced to remember anything. Usually dependent on whatever bubbles its way out the swamp.

I'm not going to pass it on. I don't know seven people! This meme dies here.