Weird Things: A Photoblog
December 07, 2006
If they really knew me, though, they'd know that there are WAY more than just six things, and that I couldn't narrow it down to that small of a number.
Then again, maybe they do know me, because if I had to choose 60 weird things, I'd give up before I began because all the work involved to list all of those.
They'd also know that the title "6 Weird Things About You," rather than "Six Weird Things About You," would drive me crazy.
Or, come to think of it, maybe that's why they tagged me. Just to drive me crazy.
Still, I'm feeling a bit rebellious today, which is why I'm staunchly refusing to take part in this meme as currently enforced: "Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says 'you are tagged' in their comments and tell them to read your blog."
Naturally, I'm making up my own rules. Since I can't narrow my own weirdness to only six facets of my personality, and because I didn't think it'd be fair to out Roger without roasting myself also, I’m treating you to SIX WEIRD THINGS ABOUT OUR HOME.
Dachshunds, dachshunds, everywhere
Roger and I live in an apartment in Dallas. An apartment that doesn't allow pets, other than fish, and maybe birds. I should explain to you that Roger has an odd obsession with dachshunds, one that I haven't quite grasped yet, since I love Labradors. In fact, there are very cute labs that I want to adopt right now, and can't.
(1) The cute, cuddly one is a stuffed animal that sits on our bed. His name is Max. I regularly give him kisses and talk to him as if he's really a living animal.
(2) The statue sits in the corner of our room, staring off into space. He's so realistic looking that when we've dog-sat for friends, the dogs have come up to the statue, growled and barked at it, and tried to sniff its nether regions.
(3) The little red toy dachshund talks and shoots arrows. Roger likes to shoot these arrows at me. And then I like to yell. It's a little game we play called "Annoying Each Other." Last year I wrote about the day Roger brought home the talking, arrow-shooting dachshund.
We have two dachshunds that sit atop my jewelry box. You can tell how often I wear jewelry by the amount of dust on the dachshunds. [Mom, ignore that last sentence. I actually vacuum and dust every day, while wearing pearls. And heels. And lipstick.]
We bought this stained-glass dachshund in an open market in Charleston, South Carolina. We don't look out our windows often enough to appreciate him there, so he resides on our bathroom mirror. I was going to say something here about how he likes it in the bathroom because every time I go in there it gets hot and steamy, but that just doesn't sound right. I mean when I'm showering, of course. I mean that I like hot water. (There is no resuscitating this, is there?)
Uhhh…no, I'm not through yet. Why do you ask?
Yes, we have a Slinky Dog. Don't you? They're totally hot these days. Umm, and yes, we also have the box prominently displayed on top of our bookshelves.
As if all these dachshunds weren't enough, we also have a book of dachshund paintings. A book that I didn't even know we owned until last night while I was taking a picture of the Slinky Dog, and I happened to notice a familiar yellow cover on the bottom of the book shelf. I had actually found this book in Barnes & Noble several weeks ago and purchased it for Roger as a Christmas gift, because: OMG: Paintings of Dachshunds! A whole book of 'em! Roger will love it! Good thing I kept the receipt.
We actually have more dachshunds, but they are stored away in the Closet o' Goodness.
Storage Closet O' Goodness
Roger and I have a Storage Closet O' Goodness. We use it to keep some of our junk that we want to hide and forget about, but it also houses all of our Lego collections (by the hundreds!) and all of our camping equipment.
By the looks of it, you'd think we'd live somewhere other than the flatlands of Dallas, Texas. The bookshelves hold all the "small" camping equipment, like plates and cups and eating utensils (the important stuff), as well as a pooper scooper (no, seriously. It's a folding shovel.), a saw (it folds, too!) and sundry hiking gadgets. I'm sure all of them are useful somehow, just ask Roger.
CALLING ALL CATS
A couple times a year, the weather in Texas gets cold enough to generate ice on things like
The first time it happened, I slipped on the ice, dug into the stucco wall with my hand, and scraped my arms pretty badly. I have no idea why I didn't just grab the railing. Perhaps because it didn't seem as stationary and sturdy as the wall.
I spoke to our apartment maintenance manager afterward, who said he would take care of it. I came home that afternoon expecting to find sand spread on our steps. Instead, I found kitty litter. Spread all over every. single. step. And it smelled a little, too.
Roger and I have been married for about two and a half years. Likewise, we have been planning something for this wall for about two and a half years. We've picked out the black & whites. We've got the frames. We own nails and a hammer. We've even laid all the pics on the ground and arranged them in a certain order for the wall.
And yet: it's bare. We just haven't found the time to do it yet, even though we can each sit for hours at a time watching movies, or playing on the Internet, or waiting in the cold for a store to open so we can save lots of money on Black Friday.
(Oops. Did I just admit to that? You should know there was no beating of other humans involved. We were given vouchers for the items in which we were interested, so that there we could avoid fighting over the retail. MicroCenter is smart like that.)
We have, however, found the time to hang several pictures in our guest bathroom. There is no reasoning behind our actions.
Instead of sitting on a chair when using the computer, we sit on an exercise ball. A big red one. We used to have a gray ball, which blended in a bit better, but it kept deflating, and after one hour we would be halfway to the ground. This ball is not actually used for exercising, though that would be an excellent idea. It is purely for sitting. And often, for slipping and falling. It's actually more of a hazard, if you ask me. Just yesterday I
sat fell down without realizing the ball had rolled away.
I could no sooner pick a favorite blogger to participate in this meme than I could pick a favorite sparkly gel pen from my secret stash of sparkly gel pens. (Though, maybe if I had to, it would be red, hot pink, grass green and navy blue. Just sayin'.) If you haven't been tagged yet to do the Weird Things meme, please consider yourself tagged (and let me know if you participate).