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harry potter ...
09/08/2007 = 09:26 AM

... is a title which has, really, nothing to do with this post.

I tend to do memes when I can't sleep, which was this morning at around 2 am.

I found something that was originally a meme on Cosmic's page, and made the foolish mistake of noticing that, although it was numbered to 46, there were only forty-four items on it. So I went to find the two missing items and found there were a lot more than two missing.

Then I worried about alienating Andy, who has been known to complain about my meme-ing too much, but he's so blue right now I don't think I can do anything to cheer him up anyway, unless I were to post pictures of my naked breasts, which, yeah, no.

My only course of action was to de-meme this. It's not a list, just a bunch of random facts about myself, in no particular order. I should de-meme the memes more often.

I wish I were sixty years old or older.

First of all, I'd have impunity to be just as weird as I please, and people would just assume I was senile.

Secondly, I'd be that much closer to retirement.

Thirdly, there is no excuse for someone as young as I am to have this many aches and pains. If I'm going to feel elderly, I'd like some of the wisdom of age to go with it.

On September 11th, 2001, I was home, watching a movie (I didn't have to go to work till 11 am) when I got the call.

I was confused at first, because I assumed "plane" + "crash" = "accidental".

When a vending machine takes my money, I find someone in charge and ask them to refund it. If, for instance, you are at a hotel, the concierge or guest services can have you sign a voucher and give you a refund out of the cash register — the vending service pays them back from the vouchers.

A lot of people don't know this. That's why I'm telling you.

I try to be kind to my friends and those of my family members who haven't shit on my feelings yet, but I can be fantastically mean to anyone who has crossed me or my peeps in any way, and I am even more unkind to people whom I consider to be open game, such as Circumcellions, ridiculous celebrities, or crooked politicians.

If I had to get a tattoo, I'd request it be positioned on someone else's body. I get tired of T-shirts after about a year. I'm not committed enough to any design to have it placed under my skin for all time.

Spanish is probably the most useful language other than English. ¿Dónde está la fiesta? Una cerveza, por favor. Gracias.

I don't know any of my neighbors by name. But I do know several of them to talk to, to ask about their vacations, and to pet their dogs.

There's the guy who always holds the door for me (and once helped me carry groceries upstairs because it was raining).

There's the tiny old lady with the Chihuahua who loves me (I meant the dog, but the lady loves me too, because the first time I saw her I said, "Nice dog. Did you pay full price for him? 'Cos it looks like they only gave you half of one").

I also have a Drunken Neighbor Across the Hall. That Man of Mine keeps a pair of jeans close at hand, so that when she locks herself out and bangs on our door at 3 am, he can go wake up her boyfriend to let her into the right condo. The DNAH parks in front, thank goodness, because she has been known to ding cars all over that lot, so we're safe in the back lot. Everyone should have a DNAH.

We have hillbillies down the street, who put up those inflatable light-up decorations for every season. Right now, there's an inflatable Dallas Cowboy on their lawn, and yes, this would be one of those times I wish I had a an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred-shot Range Model air rifle with a compass on the stock and this thing which tells time.

My favorite neighbor is the BGLD (Big Goofy Loveable Dog) lady, whose Labrador, sadly, went over the Rainbow Bridge last winter, but she's got herself a standard poodle who's not quite as big, goofy, or loveable.

Not having to be at the office doing what someone else wants me to do totally qualifies as a vacation.

I have been known to make up fake horoscopes for myself. For example, let's say someone gives me a piece of candy.

Me: Thank you. I should have expected that. My horoscope said, "You will be receiving a sweet gift."
Them: Really?
Me: No.

That Man of Mine moved from Massachussetts to Connecticut so we could start a life together. Would I do the same, in the same situation? Well, I already had a condo and he was living in a tiny apartment too far from Boston to be of any use. If his place had been better than mine, yes, I would have been the one moving.

I freak out if people I'm not comfortable with get into my personal space, and I have been known to slap the hands of people who touch without permission ("I'm sorry — it was a reflex"), but I also have a hugging jones that doesn't quit, so if I feel comfortable around you, I will want a hug, a real one ... none of this pseudo-cheek-pressing for me.

Sometimes I believe that opposites attract. But sometimes, I believe that like attracts like.

My dream job would be to be a successful author who can stay home writing instead of "not quitting my day job and having something to fall back on."

Or a punk rocker.

My favorite television channels are Discovery, History, A&E, Food Network, and PBS, with an occasional side trip to Comedy Central for Stewart and Colbert .

Favorite place to go on weekends: the movies.

Place I actually get to go to on weekends: usually nowhere.

I prefer showers to baths. I get bored in the tub and my book falls in and the pages soak up water and dry all bloated.

Even when I'm sick of having quool colors or penguins on my fingernails, I use clear polish. When I can afford it, I get professional manicures.

I used to trust people easily.

Unfortunately, from the media to the government to the internet, it's been my experience that people will pretty much tell you anything, if it will serve their purposes.

I am afraid of insects and arachnids. I know, intellectually, that they don't really hide and get big enough to eat you if they run away to where you can't see them, but they do too, so shut up.

I don't have kids because, hello, I can't take care of myself. Go give me a tiny human to be responsible for.

I don't keep a handwritten journal anymore. It actually hurts me less to type than it does to hold a pen.

The most frustrating part of OoTP was watching them fly over London and wishing I was back there. I felt almost homesick, which is patently stupid, because I've only been there once.

Wrapping myself up in my blue quilt on a rainy day makes me feel warm and safe.

I am a light sleeper. Even when I've taken painkillers or sleep aids, I'll wake up right away, albeit stupid and incoherent.

People really are out to get me. That's not paranoia, it's awareness of my environment.

I feel impatient quite often, but I've been forced to wait for so much in my lifetime (some things that still haven't happened and probably never will) that I guess that by anyone else's perception, I am supremely patient.

Also, I worked for a software help desk for several years. It taught me how to talk really stupid people through fixing things without making them aware of how stupid they are, which calls for vast patience.

I can relate to Pete Best. I'm not enough of a Beatle to make a difference in the world.

When I am asked how I feel about "interracial" couples, I get semantic. Ask, rather, how I feel about the term "racial" for dividing the human race into different ethnicities. "Interracial" implies humans mating with other primates or something. I guess I'm sort of against that, 'cos it's not natural (in the sense that nature didn't allow for it biologically).

As for humans of varying ethnicities, I cheer for anyone who can compromise on cultural differences, cope with public or private dissention from friends, family, and total strangers, and build a love together. Go you.

I have been burned by love any number of times. Some of them in the past week, for heaven's sake. Don't ever assume there's such a thing as "happily ever after."

My motto is: Life's too short to eat boring salads. Leave the iceberg lettuce to the hamsters.

My main ringtone on my cell (my mobile telephone, if you're not from around here) is the Toccata and Fugue. Ah, Bach. (Well, I'm partial to the Fugue.)

If you were wondering what I was doing at midnight last night, I think that might have been part of the two or three hours of sleep I managed.

I don't use the text feature on my cell.

Aside from the fact that I have enough trouble not dropping my phone without trying to type frantically with two arthritic thumbs, I have a close friend who spent her last (infrequent) visit with me exchanging texts with people she sees all the time.

It's a bit painful to realize that

1. you're not as important to your friends as they are to you
2. people can be really fucking rude.

Last night, I slept in Hunter Ellis' bed, but I was actually sleeping with Josh Bernstein. Hunter got so jealous when he got home and found us that he and Josh had to have a duel over me.

Did you believe me?

You did?

I'll go apply for work at the New York Times.

I'm currently wearing a white shirt, but I'll be throwing my purple top over it before I leave the house. (My purple top is too scoop-necked to not wear a shirt under it in public. I like people to look me in the eye when they talk to me.)

The most recent movie I saw was Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I liked it better than the book, which was my least favorite of the book series, but the film is, so far, my least favorite of the film series as well. That said, I was struck by how much Daniel Radcliffe has grown as an actor since the first film, and I also think it's time for Rupert Grint to go tap on some doors for more character roles — he's great. This is a Golfwidow post. If you see it at another site, someone has copy-and-pasted it without my permission. Hi.

Three things I have on my person at all times are my driver's license, my insurance card, and my debit card.

My current bed sheets are yellow with white stripes.

This is no thanks to That Man of Mine, who wanted the blue plaid ones, even though I told him fifteen times that they were out of that pattern in full-size, which is what size our bed is.

I think he thinks if we buy king-sized bedding, we can get an extra year or two out of it because the bed will have grow-room.

I learned long ago that, if I had money on me, That Man of Mine would "borrow" it, because what's mine is his and what's his is mine. This is what he says. I'm sure it would be true, if he ever had any money.

When we have chicken for dinner, I always give That Man of Mine the white meat, and he thinks I'm making a sacrifice for him and gets properly lovey-dovey and guilty.

The truth is, I genuinely prefer the thigh. It's got more flavor than the breast.

My favorite US city is probably Atlanta, Georgia. I have never not had a good time in Atlanta.

Outside of the US, London is my favorite, but that might be because that's pretty much the only city I've ever been in outside of the US.

I can't wait till September 10, when LanaRama comes off hiatus.

My fairy blogmother (the person who got me started writing online) was known at that time as tattodnanny, a nanny whose tattoos were less numerous than her spelling errors.

Now she is bardsbitch, master of arts in English but still can't spell, and she never updates, so there is no point in linking to her. We've known each other since we were tiny kids.

Last night for dinner I made baked cod, mashed potatoes, and spinach with garlic and nutmeg.

Barefoot, I am 5’3” tall.

I think I might be taller lying down.

I have never smoked crack nor heroin, but I've eaten kettle corn. I'm convinced it's the same thing. I dive in and I don't stop till I hit bag.

If I owned a gun, That Man of Mine would probably say, "Can I hold it for a second?" and then it would be broken and I wouldn't have it anymore.

I woke up a little before 2:00 am this morning.

What I drink in the morning: coffee with soy milk first, then energy beverage fizzy-lifting drink, then more coffee, and ice water nonstop throughout the day.

Before you wonder if any or all of this contributes to my insomnia, I hasten to add that I've been an insomniac all my life, and what I drink or don't drink has never had any effect one way or another.

My secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex is my brownies.

They lure in the same sex, too. I make really good brownies.

I meant to go get diagnosed for A.D.D., but I saw a pretty birdie and why are we still talking about this?

My current worry: I'm broke. That's also, coincidentally enough, my chronic worry.

My current hate: I think that would have to be insomnia. That's also, coincidentally enough, my chronic hate.

My favorite place to be: Earth. (So far.)

I want to tour the world, taking pictures, drinking beer, and writing down my brain confetti.

If I'm not run into the ground in ten years, I'll probably be exactly where I am now, but poorer.

The last thing I ate yesterday was a cherry cheese danish for dessert because That Man of Mine bought them and I wanted one before he ate them all.

I don't sing in the shower. I have neighbors whose radio I can hear in the bathroom. If I can hear them, they can hear me.

The last person to make me laugh was Sally Tomato. I went back to read why she doesn't like Bridge Over Troubled Water (one of my favorite songs, but probably only because I didn't have to listen to it every day in utero) and about peed myself.

The worst injury I've ever had at one given time was torn ligaments in both legs and one arm, just by dint of my being me and being a klutz.

As far as I know, no one has a current crush on me. I'm a little long in the tooth and not nearly cute enough to be crushed upon anymore.

My favorite candy is chocolate anything, but I'm allergic. I eat it anyway.

My favorite candy that I'm not allergic to are those crunchy peppermint sticks from the Vermont Country Store, the ones you can shove into an orange or lemon and suck the juice through.

I currently have the song Lust for Life stuck in my head.

Do you think Royal Caribbean knows they chose an anthem to liquor and drugs as their theme song?

Do you think Iggy Pop knows that some people's first encounter with his music is now forever going to be associated in their minds with an all-inclusive cruise package?

I can't think of anything less punk, not even Billy Idol's completely non-ironic Christmas album.

The random facts sign is now off. Feel free to move about the Internet.

Tags: Harry Potter; Harry Potter Movie

drinking: ice water
watching: The Universe
wishing: i could sleep. it's the weekend, for fuck's sake