Continuing this damaged train of thought ...
- Although I play soccer for my health it has resulted in 2 knee surgeries and possibly a future third surgery sometime later this summer, as well as a separated shoulder. The knee surgeries and separated shoulder caused me more health problems than the soccer playing can overcome. So maybe it isn’t worth it.
- I once killed the biggest cockroach you've ever seen with a Diet Pepsi. Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi, to be exact. They say roaches could survive a nuclear war, yet they can't survive swimming in toilet water mixed with caffeine free diet Pepsi? Something is terribly wrong with that.
- Every one of my sisters and brother and I are at least slightly ambidextrous. Left-handedness alternated with every other one of us. There are 5 of us kids. My oldest sister is right-handed. The middle sister is left-handed. My youngest sister is right-handed. My older brother is left-handed. And lastly, I am right handed. We can all switch hands as needed, even to write. It isn’t always pretty, but we can do it. When we all sat together at the table to eat it was a nightmare.
- I can double-fault in tennis using either hand. Yes, I meant to type it that way. My backhand is meaner with my left than my right. My forehand is better with my right. My serve is inconsistent with either hand and I usually end up hitting a weak spin-serve that sort of falls over the net and then leaps rapidly sideways after touching the ground. This fools the opponent a few times and then they start rocketing it back at me once they’ve figure it out.
- I kickbox left-handed. All my taekwando instructors told me to stop doing that. My escrima instructor said it was a good thing. All I know is that is how I end up, even if they make me switch to start off. My kicks are a lot better with my left foot than my right, but in soccer the reverse is true. I don’t know why.
- One horrible summer My Wife decided that a lovely vacation would be to rent a car and drive around in Connecticut for a whole week. Yes, seriously, Connecticut. No, she isn't crazy. She's just never been there. She had this tourism book that talked about all these covered bridges and various other touristy sites. So she, and her mother, The Mouth Of The South From New York, who was no doubt at least partially involved in this terrible decision, were all set to do just that. Well, I had just read about the murder of Martha Moxley up in Greenwich, apparently by a Skakel kid living next door, and didn't much like the thought of My Wife getting lost and killed because her mother, the most unaware-of-her-current-surroundings person I have ever met, led her into a lesbian Satanist biker bar without thinking twice. So I went along. They had only told me that they were going to rent a car and drive until they were tired. Then they'd just find a place to stay each night on the fly. Next day they'd move on. We were like hippies in a rental car. Anyway, much to my surprise, they started us off in New York, where we picked up her brother, who is in the Navy. They brought him along. There was no need for me because he was there and would fight off the lesbian Satanist bikers if the need arose. Too bad they hadn't told me ahead of time. I could have saved myself a wasted week of vacation. Oh, we saw bridges. We saw a large tree. We saw Yale. And we saw lesbians, lots and lots of lesbians. Connecticut apparently is a leading importer of lesbians. This was not listed in the tourism book, but it should have been at least mentioned as a kind of warning to men who end up there because of their wives and mother-in-laws.
- It is not unusual for me to get up to pee 3 times per night. I am not an old man, but ever since the water in My Little Redneck Town was polluted with EPA-rules-violating waste during a rainstorm and I got very, very sick I have had this problem.
- My Wife is part German, part Italian, part Cherokee Indian, and part black. No matter which one I fight with it's always a hell of a battle.
- One Saturday the allegedly former drug dealer and burglar who lives across the street from me, Yo G, told me he saw a “crackhead” messing with my truck, which was parked out in front of my house. When he yelled at Crackhead, the “good old boy” ran off like a scared little girl. This “crackhead” was one of the white-trash fucks who hangs out up the street at The Fireman’s house with his sons. They’re friends of the redneck who attacked me and My Wife when we first moved into town. These lovely individuals are among the primary suspects for the vandalizing of my cars and attempts to murder me and My Wife for the past 6 years.When a drug dealer refers to a neighbor/classmate/customer as a “crackhead” he’s not just assigning that person a funny nickname. He means it.
- I have 20/15 vision, which means I see at 20 feet what a normal person sees at 15 feet. How this is useful other than for shooting crackhead rednecks I haven’t a clue, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
You have read this article with the title 100 Things About Me You Couldn't Possibly Care To Know - part III - 26 through 35. You can bookmark this page URL http://thebohemianbunny.blogspot.com/2005/04/100-things-about-me-you-couldn-possibly.html. Thanks!
