The Random Facts Meme

The Archcrone tagged me and who am I to deny her?  Here’s the rules I’m playing by:

1. All right, here are the rules.

2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.

3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

4. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.

5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Eight random things.  Okay.

1.  I love smoking cigars.  Nothing makes me feel more badass and sexy.

2.  I don’t like tequila; I just drink it because Mack does and I want Mack to think I’m cool (because I’m a dork).

3.  I hate wearing shoes.  I would go barefoot everywhere all the time if I could.

4.  My favorite place in Nashville is the righthand side bathroom at the Ryman.  I love those little octagon tile flowers.

5.  Though I, in general, think religions are, at some level, silly and I, myself, have one of the sillier ones, there are two fairly mainstream religions in the U.S. that seem to me so utterly riduculous, just on their face, that belief in them, to me, indicates a kind of personal failure on the part of their believers.  I am embarrassed to have that kind of bigotry, so I’m not mentioning which two they are.

6.  I keep dirt from Robert Johnson’s graves in my bedroom.

7.  Non-drowsy cold medicine puts me to sleep.

8.  I think the perfect breakfast cereal is Corn Chex mixed with Kellogg’s Raisin Bran.

Can we nominate folks who just comment and don’t have blogs?  I want to.  NM, especially, but anyone else who just comments but doesn’t have a blog, let’s hear from you in the comments!

It Wasn’t All Bad

We’re driving up 8th Avenue South all tired out from eating and yelling at each other when the littlest nephew starts in about trying to figure out who’s the biggest because the biggest person is the boss (which I don’t mind, because it lets me be the boss) and he announces that, in North Carolina, his stepdad is the boss.

Then he says that his stepdad is twenty-nine and lives with his mom and the littlest nephew’s mom lives with him.

There’s silence for about a half a second and then there are three muffled “mrhawhwhaahahaha”s coming from my brothers and me.

You know, that’s the one thing, no matter how ridiculous your life if, there’s always some poor twenty-nine year old schmuck living with his mom and his girlfriend who he can never marry because she’s still married to my brother.

Sometimes, it’s necessary to think on that.

Do-Right Family

I’ve been trying to post all evening, but I’m still pissed off and upset.  I don’t really know why, exactly.  I just am.

And usually, I’d write one of my great epic posts about how fucked up things are and why I think they’re fucked up and what my place in the fucked up realm of things is, but the truth is that I really don’t give a shit.

Because here’s the truth of it: I come from fucked up people.  Generations of fucked up people who fuck up each other and fuck up themselves.  And, as long as we continue to have children, we will continue our ways, because we are fucked up.

I, too, am fucked up.  And no amount of nagging or pressure or scrutiny or “I know you don’t like it when we talk about this but we need to talk about it for your own good” bullshit is going to change that.

In fact, it’s just going to piss me off, because who are you, fucked up people, to try to change me?  Talk about me keeping my house in order?  Get your own house in order, first, bubs.

Ha, yeah, whatever.

I’m going to bed, again.  As usual.