Tag Hag

I love the world of Blogging. BUT, every time I see another silly chainletter-like “Tag” being passed through the home-typist gauntlet, I feel a bit embarrassed.
Usually, I pass these by, hoping someone else will find fulfillment in answering questions about their first crushes, most embarrassing moments and first pets named Fluffalufugus.

This time, however, I was unintentionally “dared” to participate. A few months ago (yeah, I’m a procrastinator), Frustrated Writer wrote on his blog:

“I would’ve tagged -c but I doubt she would’ve responded…”

Now… I could hardly leave this blatant “dare” alone without feeling like a rejected, weak, cajones-less pussy (which I most certainly am not. I’ll have you know that my turkey flesh-like cajones are bigger than most). So here I go, attacking my first, semi-official “tag” ever:

The rules:

1. Get tagged.
2. List five things that have not been revealed on your blog.
3. Tag five others.

Well… screw all this. I wasn’t “officially” tagged, I’m not going to prescribe to the correct number of requested revelations, and I’m not going to “tag” anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged. Tag, tag, tag, tag, tag. Yup, I reached my quota.

So without further a doodle, here are 9 insights never before shared on this blog. (Why 9, you ask? Well, because its square root equals exactly 3 more than the number of nose hairs I ever hope to have visible to the public, of course.) Here goes:

1. I sometimes shave my armpits and wash the shower tiles at the same time (efficiency is not only for the Japanese and the insect kingdom)
2. I sometimes critique the conceptual art Mr. E has made on the shower walls with strands of our hair
3. I once got a full-body rash from skinny dipping in an Italian canal bordered by thistles and interested bridge-watchers
4. I like the way the word ‘flatulence’ rolls off the tongue
5. I was valedictorian of my tiny high school graduating class, and I showed up barefoot and stoned
6. I once performed vile acts of “loose bowel movements” in the meticulously-sculpted bushes in front of the Governmental Palace in San Cristobal, Mexico.
7. I was once asked to spell out a man’s name in cocaine on the back of an Ecuadorian toilet. Luckily, he had a short nickname.
8. I often play the Devil’s Advocate despite my beliefs
9. In person, I’m not actually the biting, vulgarity-embracing, smart-ass I often claim to be on my blog. In fact, I’m actually pretty quiet and shy. Ah… how honesty doth free the soul!

Tag, tag, tag, tag, tag. Man, what a harsh and obnoxious word.

It has none of the linguistic grace that the word “flatulence” possesses.