The Spanish Casual Chat
Confess! Confess! Give me your dirty little secrets, your clean little secrets, and even your mostly tidy but mildly disheveled little secrets!
This was inspired by a thread on a forum to which I belong, but I'm going to mix it up and confess to things I haven't even done yet. That's right, I'm going to be a madcap and toss in confessions of secrets I fully intend to be keeping at some point in the future. Am I going to tell you which those are? Hell no! Life is better with an edge of uncertainty! It builds character, keeps you regular, fights the germs that cause gingivitis!
So, if I were stretched out on the rack, water boarded (that sounds filthier than it should in the past tense), forced to listen to the soundtrack to High School Musical, denied access to shampoo for more than 24 hours, or in some other way heinously tortured, here's what I'd cop to:
*I tell people that I'm allergic to garlic, but I'm not sure I really am. What I do know though, is that it gives me horrible stomach cramps, and then, later that night the most appalling alchemy occurs somewhere in my bloated abdomen turning that pungent but mostly harmless little relative of the onion into a dank cloud of toxic EVIL that must fight its wicked way through my guts and escape out my ass. Miners used to keep canaries with them because the teeny birds would give warning, by way of dying, if they encountered a pocket of bad air. Those little birds had it easy! I could take out a turkey buzzard at a hundred yards after an accidental bite of hummus.
*I nearly broke up Christian Bale's marriage, but once I'd convinced him that I wasn't going to leave my husband and son, that he had a daughter to think of, and after a lot of counseling, he and his wife were able to move on from the unfortunate episode. It was heartbreaking to see a grown man, a respected actor, making such a fool of himself, though I was flattered, and I hope that we can all move forward with our respective happy marriages and maybe be just friends someday.
*I'm afraid of zombies, and the ocean (because it harbors zombies), and mimes (who might be a species of zombies). The only thing more frightening than a deep-sea zombie mime is possibly a cockroach...or a deep-sea zombie cockroach mime...
*I may have just pissed myself thinking about deep-sea zombie cockroach mimes.
*Sometimes I avoid my neighbors because I'm sure they can hear us watching porn and having sex.
*I was drunk when I accepted my Grammy, but I'd sobered up by the time I hip checked Avril Lavigne into the mini-quiche table and teamed up with JLo to beat the shit out of three of the Pussycat Dolls. I blamed it on the booze, but I have to tell you, in the interest of openness, that time I spent in "rehab" I was actually eating dim sum and watching old wutang movies with Jet Li and Yeun Woo-ping.
*It's been 61 hours since I last breastfed my son. This bit of information is significant for two reasons. The first is that I am no longer a nursing mother and I'm pretty happy about that. The second is that I might, possibly, be a tipsy right this very minute. I will probably have to confess to drunk blogging during our next Spanish Casual Chat, then head back to "rehab."
(Bonus points to anyone who knows where "Spanish Causal Chat" is from, and cookies in the mail to anyone who can find the relevant clip on YouTube....and more cookies to anyone who can correctly guess how many tries it took me to type the word relevant after all the wine I've just had. No cookies at all to anyone who guesses exactly how much wine I've put away tonight, because no one likes a tattle tale.)
This was inspired by a thread on a forum to which I belong, but I'm going to mix it up and confess to things I haven't even done yet. That's right, I'm going to be a madcap and toss in confessions of secrets I fully intend to be keeping at some point in the future. Am I going to tell you which those are? Hell no! Life is better with an edge of uncertainty! It builds character, keeps you regular, fights the germs that cause gingivitis!
So, if I were stretched out on the rack, water boarded (that sounds filthier than it should in the past tense), forced to listen to the soundtrack to High School Musical, denied access to shampoo for more than 24 hours, or in some other way heinously tortured, here's what I'd cop to:
*I tell people that I'm allergic to garlic, but I'm not sure I really am. What I do know though, is that it gives me horrible stomach cramps, and then, later that night the most appalling alchemy occurs somewhere in my bloated abdomen turning that pungent but mostly harmless little relative of the onion into a dank cloud of toxic EVIL that must fight its wicked way through my guts and escape out my ass. Miners used to keep canaries with them because the teeny birds would give warning, by way of dying, if they encountered a pocket of bad air. Those little birds had it easy! I could take out a turkey buzzard at a hundred yards after an accidental bite of hummus.
*I nearly broke up Christian Bale's marriage, but once I'd convinced him that I wasn't going to leave my husband and son, that he had a daughter to think of, and after a lot of counseling, he and his wife were able to move on from the unfortunate episode. It was heartbreaking to see a grown man, a respected actor, making such a fool of himself, though I was flattered, and I hope that we can all move forward with our respective happy marriages and maybe be just friends someday.
*I'm afraid of zombies, and the ocean (because it harbors zombies), and mimes (who might be a species of zombies). The only thing more frightening than a deep-sea zombie mime is possibly a cockroach...or a deep-sea zombie cockroach mime...
*I may have just pissed myself thinking about deep-sea zombie cockroach mimes.
*Sometimes I avoid my neighbors because I'm sure they can hear us watching porn and having sex.
*I was drunk when I accepted my Grammy, but I'd sobered up by the time I hip checked Avril Lavigne into the mini-quiche table and teamed up with JLo to beat the shit out of three of the Pussycat Dolls. I blamed it on the booze, but I have to tell you, in the interest of openness, that time I spent in "rehab" I was actually eating dim sum and watching old wutang movies with Jet Li and Yeun Woo-ping.
*It's been 61 hours since I last breastfed my son. This bit of information is significant for two reasons. The first is that I am no longer a nursing mother and I'm pretty happy about that. The second is that I might, possibly, be a tipsy right this very minute. I will probably have to confess to drunk blogging during our next Spanish Casual Chat, then head back to "rehab."
(Bonus points to anyone who knows where "Spanish Causal Chat" is from, and cookies in the mail to anyone who can find the relevant clip on YouTube....and more cookies to anyone who can correctly guess how many tries it took me to type the word relevant after all the wine I've just had. No cookies at all to anyone who guesses exactly how much wine I've put away tonight, because no one likes a tattle tale.)
3 Comments:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=tSajE72Tpjs. Right at the very end.
Where do I mail the cookies? I make a wicked oatmeal cranberry!
Heh. Couldn't resist the challenge! I spent a very enjoyable evening looking through Eddie Izzard clips on Youtube. I'm really glad you're posting to your blog again!
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