7 things

Mk. So I stole this, and her reason for doing this, from Jameil. I need something to write about! And I don't feel like thinking. So here's 7 odd things you may not know about me.

*I collect things. I have a piggy bank, a piggy doorbell (a door hanger that you squeeze and it oinks), a shirt with a pig holding flowers and asking that you not eat him, and lots of stuffed pigs. Also, I have foreign coins that I keep in a lil shoe-shaped bank that one of my neighbors bought for me in Japan. Sand from different beaches I've been to, in oddly shaped glass bottles. And I have music video anthologies by artists and by directors.

*i am a pack rat. In case you couldn't tell from my collection of random items... I have magazines I haven't touched in years. Old mail, read and unread. Books from the people who lived in our house before we did, some of which I have begun to read despite the fact that they're all curriculum books. Old letters. Objects I planned to use but never got around to. The list goes on. All these things are tucked under my bed or in bookshelves or closets, so I hardly think of them.

*my mother smacked one of my teeth out. When I was 7 I think, my mom, my aunt Linda, her daughter and I were on our way somewhere in a hurry. We jumped in the car, a hatchback, and my mother tossed her purse to me... But I wasn't paying attention and she smacked me in the face with it. Now, my mother has never been a woman of small purses. To call it a purse evokes demureness. This was a "pockabook," to mock our accent, and a big one. The tooth was already loose, but not enough to come out! I think it was a front one, if not then one of the ones to the right of it. Top tooth. I cried my lil face off. I don't remember it hurting, but I was shocked! And now we're riding around, and am I supposed to just hold this tooth in my hand? Trauma.

*i don't eat pork, most cheeses, ketchup, eggs, hot dogs, or veggies with the word green(s) in their title. I'm a picky eater! I stopped eating pork when I was 15 because I decided I wanted a "Wilbur"-esque pig, and I knew itd be cruel to eat one and claim to love my pet. (this started the stuffed pig affair) I stopped eating "yellow" cheese at about age 7. I think I outgrew the taste, cuz I used to sneak kraft singles and eat them like there was no tomorrow. Same for ketchup and hotdogs. Just grew out of them. I developed an allergy to eggs- my throat scratches and closes up if I eat an egg-based product like egg rolls or scrambled eggs. I hate all kinds of greens. Even green beans. They just taste funny! Spinach greens, turnip greens, collard greens, etc. A lil too southern for me. I don't like for my veggies to have had to been boiled all freaking night and day. Soggy and most are a lil tart from what I can remember. I hate them most of all. The other things I might concede on but I hate greens!

*I hung around with druggies but never did any drugs. I used to get good laughs from the dumb things they'd do. I didn't even smoke weed until I stopped hanging out with them (most had dropped out or switched to the alternative school by then), and that was a short-lived thing. They were cool people personality-wise, but they liked some harsh stuff. I was never into it and they didn't pressure me or the other's who didn't want to, and that was cool.

*i used to sit in my closet to think. When I lived in the house before the house we live in now, I had a closet with sliding doors. I could stand in there, but it wasn't a walk-in. I had a random assortment of things in there on the floor and I would sit on them when I didn't want anyone to find me. It was very peaceful and private, especially at the time when I started doing it, when I was 14 and 10 people lived in my house (and Lauren stayed over after school). That's another story for another time, the 10 people story... Anyways I shared a room with Ms Lady<http://www.alyseshaunte.blogspot.com/> and was missing my alone-ness, so I would sit in there and write, talk on the phone, breathe...

*i like to pick scabs. And it annoys the hell out of my boyfriend. I mean, they kind of call to me. And he's always burning and scarring himself at work. First I'll start rubbing his arm, while watching tv or something, and then I'm scratching, and he's snapping at me to leave it alone so it can heal. That's why I have so many scars; I can't just leave them alone! But I don't hurt myself as much as he does, so its easier to pick at his. He even has this one spot on his elbow where it just peels all the time, and when I'm bored I lift his arm and go to town. I have a problem, I know this.

PS: M.I.A. Is artist of the week on MTV! Loves it!

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