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Get it offa me! Get it offa me!

Yipe! I’ve been tagged with a meme. I’ve been dreading this moment. At least this one doesn’t ask any questions about CD’s I’ve bought or books I’m reading. That would be embarrassing. This one is eight habits or facts about my favorite topic: me.

1. Fact: I can wiggle my ears. In fact, I can wiggle each ear individually. In fact, my head muscles are preternaturally mobile, like a tabby. If I spot someone I don’t like, my whole scalp dances involuntarily.

2. Habit: I have a song I sing to my lima beans. The lyrics go, “lima beans, lima beans, limabeanslimabeanslima beeeeeeeeeeeans.” This is so onerous, I usually end up having peas instead, even though I really like lima beans. I don’t have a pea song, thank goodness.

3. Fact: I have ugly, gnarly feet. My mother used to say, “never mind, honey. Peacocks have ugly feet, too.” Yeah, but peacocks have a glorious fan of blue iridescent feathers sticking out of their butts. What do I have?

4. Habit: just inside the door, there’s a bowl that I empty my pockets into the moment I walk into the house. Keys, glasses, watch, small change, post-it notes. Sometimes I poke through the old notes. They are like messages from another planet. I seldom have any idea what they mean or who those people are I was supposed to call. And yet…they all sound so urgent and important.

5. Fact: I used to have double-jointed thumbs. I could grab either thumb and push it all the way forward until it touched my inner forearm, or all the way backward until it touched my outer forearm. I just tried to do it for the first time in years. I can’t. And it hurt like a bastard. Also, I read the article at the link and it scared me.

6. Habit: On weekends, I put chocolate, cinnamon and flaked chili into my coffee (fact: it makes me poop like a goose).

7. Fact: I have one of those preposterous 10-syllable cornpone Southern names. Thanks, Mother. She said she thought I might want to take up acting someday. In Foghorn Leghorn cartoons, apparently.

8. Habit: when I get down on all fours to play with Damien, he periodically turns around and waggles his ass-end at me. I finally figured out he was feigning a scent-mark. I thought maybe a puff of air on his nethers would startle him out of the impertinent habit, but after the first couple of times, he actually developed a taste for it. Now he waggles his ass and backs toward the stream of air. I can’t help myself. It’s howlingly funny.

Yes. That’s right. I go home at night, get down on all fours, pucker up and blow on my cat’s rectum. And it’s really nobody’s business.

Errr…thanks Geoff. Hm. I’m going to tag-back BONGO MIRROR and whitishrabbit out of pure vindictiveness.


Comment from whitishrabbit
Time: July 16, 2007, 2:00 pm

That _is_ vindictive. Like anyone’s going to top your rectum-puffing, ass-waggling thing.

Comment from Nice Deb
Time: July 16, 2007, 3:43 pm

TMI on the cat, dude.


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: July 16, 2007, 4:04 pm

Little too much of an ass-obsession developing on this blog, I have to admit. It’s starting to creep me out.

My other cat hopped up on the desk a while ago and, in the spirit of pure scientific inquiry, I directed a puff of air at her sub-tailiar regions. She flinched and whipped around, like, “are you OUT of your fucking MIND?!” So, it’s not a universal feline characteristic, even in the Weasel household.

I can’t help thinking it would be lots cooler if it made a hoo hoo sound, like blowing across a Coke bottle.

Comment from Dawn
Time: July 16, 2007, 4:12 pm

What you don’t have a song for your peas?????


Fixed that for you. It works for tomatoes too.

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: July 16, 2007, 4:17 pm

Hey, that’s kinda catchy. However, I don’t usually cook dinner with a choral ensemble and a bongo drum, so I think my pea-eating is safe.

Of course, there is “I eat my peas with honey…”

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 16, 2007, 5:38 pm

…So there I was, about to get cut big-time so’s they could install my new titanium knob, when the gas-passer shouts “Wait!” He takes a peek down my throat and deduces that I must have a spinal rather than knock-you-dead general anesthesia.

But they still put me so far under I don’t remember anything.

…And (so I was told, over and over and over afterward – by EVERYBODY on the surgery team) for the next hour I apparently started reciting G-string Haiku and limericks, and poems about boogers and Islamic Rage Boy. They were inviting surgeons over from adjacent o-theatres to listen to me babble! They even wrote some down and showed me!

People were peaking in my hospital room for 2 days, just to get a glimpse of the guy that made 30-year veteran surgeons drop stitches.

Anyway, I survived, I’m home, and am now going to pop my umteenth percocet 7.5/325 out of the HUGE jar doc gave me.

Last night one of my house plants confided to me that it likes my dishwasher – ’cause when it runs it releases a little warm steam into the room – which I keep a bit chilly for the plants’ personal comfort.

More tommorrow – I’m very dizzy and also somewhat dizzy right now. And – I’m dizzy.

Thank you all for the poems! They mean a lot to me.

-“Knob” McGoo-

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: July 16, 2007, 5:51 pm

McGoo! IT LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: July 16, 2007, 5:53 pm

Welcome back, McGoo!

Gods, the place has been tidy without you!

PS – Badgers don’t do tidy>.

Comment from whitishrabbit
Time: July 16, 2007, 7:55 pm

McGoogly! welcome home. *warms up the marching band*

Comment from Enas Yorl
Time: July 16, 2007, 8:07 pm

Hurrah! The McGoo has returned! I raise a shot of rye whiskey in toast to your successful rehippification!

Comment from Lokki
Time: July 16, 2007, 8:31 pm

Congratulations on being hip again McGoo!

Lucky Enas – he was going to have to drink that rye in the interest of plain ‘ol science but now it’s a celebration!

Oh, and if you feel the urge, Dawn has provided some pea music…..

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: July 17, 2007, 4:22 am

Pea music and rye! Does it get any more civilized?

Comment from Gnus
Time: July 17, 2007, 8:53 am

McGoo, congrats on the Percocets…

Oh… and the new hip too.

Welcome back.

Comment from BONGO MIRROR
Time: July 17, 2007, 9:15 am

I suppose that I should say thank you for bestowing the honour of tagging me on my own gentle sticklike figure. However, I can’t. I’ve expressed an opinion about memes and changing my mind about them would be tantamount to admitting that I don’t know everything already and as that proud possessor of a penis (Hmm. Several penii. The more the merrier! Oh wait. That’s only in my dreams.) I can’t do that.

However, you have made me think that in the coming times when I won’t be at my computer composing thoughts but will want to post things that I could repost the fifteen or so things from the “hundred things about myself” (you know, I just don’t follow rules that well but bear in mind that this is a comment rather than a blog post so don’t get any funny images in your mind — wait. No. Do get funny images in your mind. Funny images are fun.) posts that I wrote some time ago and call that a reply to your tag.

For the record, here’s my post on memes: http://symmulacra.wordpress.com/2007/06/25/memes/.

Comment from porkthebean
Time: July 17, 2007, 9:31 am

MCGOOOOOOO! Good to see you in your dizzying splendor!

Can’t remember what pain killers my mom were on for her knee…might have been percocet….but they made her so constipated, she took herself off a week or so before she should have.

Eats lots of beans and greens my friend, or we shall send Weasel over to blow in your rectaliar region.

Pingback from Habit. Fact. Meme. Goody. « Stop and Wander
Time: July 17, 2007, 11:03 am

[…] Yesterday I got tagged. I wasn’t even doing anything, honest. I imagine I got memed between the eyes probably cus I check weasel’s blog as often as I check my own (how else would I keep up on ass haiku or get the latest update on a cyborg friend’s titanium knob?) […]

Comment from bibliomom
Time: July 17, 2007, 11:51 am

Just tracking back the tag I got today. Nice to meet you (I think).

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: July 17, 2007, 12:07 pm

Hello, ‘mom. A red squirrel, huh? I can believe it. I’ve only seen one in the wild, and he chased after me, hopping from tree to tree, barking. Nasty customers, which people tend to forget because gray squirrels are crowding out the red squirrels and everybody feels bad about it. That’s what PR will do for you.

Yeah, we’re kind of an odd fit on Amuirin’s reading list. I think she comes here for the dysfunction and the bad poetry.

Comment from BONGO MIRROR
Time: July 17, 2007, 1:06 pm

Hah! I leave a comment with a link and the thing gets a moderation queue notice. That bites big hippo weenies.

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: July 17, 2007, 3:32 pm

Usually, it takes more than one link to trigger the Spaminator, but some days it’s hungrier than others. I kick things loose when I find them in there, but then they show up in the order they were originally posted, which can be a bit brain-hurty.

But it’s a damn fine filter, is Akismet. It gets it right 90% of the time and blogging would be a pain without it.

Comment from bibliomom
Time: July 17, 2007, 7:18 pm

Bongo suggested that I write about the aforementioned red squirrel episode in an upcoming blog post. Your comment here just reinforced my belief that red squirrels are spawns of satan. I’ve never had to shoot at a weasel though. I think I have chased a skunk or two. I’m glad I live in town now.

Comment from Purple Avenger
Time: July 17, 2007, 8:35 pm

Ass obsessed eh? Check out this little number that I’m betting could be put to some creative uses be certain people…who’s name ends in Sullivan and who’s first name is Andrew.

Sand Drill

Comment from Lokki
Time: July 17, 2007, 10:21 pm

dat ‘ol pill she my best friend yet
percocet, percocet
you forgets what you got cause o’ the smiles you gets

When you take dat pill, dey ain’t nuthin’ wrong
dis ol’ world could end, and I’d just be singin’ dis song

dat ‘ol pill she my best friend yet
percocet, percocet
you forgets what you got cause o’ the smiles you gets

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: July 18, 2007, 6:03 am

PA: Sorry, this popular item is temporarily not available. Brrrr.

Incidentally, I still faithfully read your site, but I stopped commenting when Blogger and Gmail got wadded up together. I don’t remember my Blogger ID (it’s not sweasel; apparently that’s someone else) and if I sign in with my Gmail account, it signs my name as simply “s”. That bends me out of shape, so I just avoid the issue entirely.

Comment from BONGO MIRROR
Time: July 19, 2007, 10:54 am

I thought that I’d mention my experience with ass obsession. For a while I blogged about asses. Some people thought that I had an obsession. On of my offline life friends expressed some concern. That struck me as strange. As I detailed in my “things about me” post caused by your tagging, I think that bums are funny and I think that I am funny. Thus, more of my writing was about bums accurately represents my thinking patterns. I figured people could deal with that. I was wrong.

That makes me want to repost something really explicit about bums.

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Beware: more than one link in a comment is apt to earn you a trip to the spam filter, where you will remain -- cold, frightened and alone -- until I remember to clean the trap. But, hey, without Akismet, we'd be up to our asses in...well, ass porn, mostly.

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