…by one, Robin Brande, to reveal five little known facts about myself. I feel like I’ve done this before, but I’m too lazy to check, so I apologize if this is a repeat (I’m just a really boring person so this won’t be anything new to my friends). Tell me if you’ve heard any of these before (at this site) and I’ll replace it with a new fact.
1. For the first four days of my life I was known as Girl (family name here) because my parents couldn’t decide what to name me (both Sydney and Bronwyn were considered and discarded). Finally the hospital told my parents that if they didn’t name me they couldn’t take me home, so they managed to cobble together something they liked. Only when my father went to tell the nurse their choice and make it official he misspelled my first name by spelling phonetically. It’s been a distraction for people ever since.
2. I was in the Vagina Monologues for two years in college. The first time I played several different roles including the moaning monologue, and the second time I just performed the monologue “Hair.” Everyone involved in each production got their own video of the show. Years later a good friend used her copy to “educate” her boyfriend—specifically the “Hair” monologue—which was fine when I thought I was never going to meet the guy. Silly, naïve fool. When we came face-to-face mere months later I could barely look him in the eye as my friend introduced me as, “This is _______. You know, from the video…” Killlllllll Meeeeeeeee.
3. I can fold my tongue in half—not rolling, but fold it so the tip points towards the back of my throat. Since it’s a pretty useless talent it’s not something I advertise.
4. I really dislike being asked what my ethnicity is, and it’s a question I’ve been asked a lot lately. My dislike stems from the fact that most people tend to phrase their “Hey, what are you?” question with absolutely no tact, and ask me out of the middle of no where. Mostly I just tell people that I’m a Heinz 57 variety style baby and leave it at that, but I once made the mistake of actually admitting that I don’t know (at least not about the chunk responsible for my skin tone and hair color), only to be asked if it was because I was adopted (I’m not, see fact #1). The whole conversation was pretty awful and probably one of the few times I actually came close to yelling “none of your business” at a customer.
5. I have a secret past as a fanfiction writer…
Hmm, that’s all I can think of tonight. Told you I wasn’t interesting.
Tag to all y’all, just let me know if you do the meme by leaving a link in the comments.
Showing posts with label facts not in evidence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label facts not in evidence. Show all posts
Friday, February 16, 2007
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Brain Function No Higher Than US Weekly’s Comprehension Level
The company encourages us to check out books from the store so that we can better know our product. They give us a limit on the amount of books we can check out and the time we can have them in our possession, which normally wouldn’t be a problem, but Christmas always does an acid dance on our brains. As my boss was getting ready to leave yesterday she paused behind the counter with that vacant stare that we all get when faced with the daunting task of deciding which of the millions of books in the store to check out. After a few moments she sighed and shook her head, “I don’t think I can read anything beyond a magazine’s thickness anyhow.”
Most of us are in that state. The only coworkers who are devouring books are those who’ve been in school and are now celebrating their freedom from required reading with wanton disregard for all things high brow. Down with Melville and Hawthorne, bring on the YA, the romance, and the memoirs about heroin abuse!
I’m in a similar state to my boss, capable only of skimming a book before I either give up and declare it unreadable or just toss it aside for another day. I’m bored, picky and just plain irritable with authors that I usually love and books that I know are well written. I need a reading evening though, something to restart my internal Zen clock so that I can relax enough to sleep through the night. Tonight would be the perfect night to settle into a book, really give something a chance, but I promised to go check out some gallery exhibits with friends. It doesn’t bode well for that little trip that I’m thinking of bugging out at eight a.m., but it’s not like I know any of the artists we’ll be seeing personally.
Words or pictures? Words or pictures? Hmmm, will have to consider this throughout the work day.
As for y’all, Monica has provided a link (and a breakdown) of the WSJ article on race in fiction. There’s a great discussion going on over there that you should check out and add your two cents. Something to consider: would sectioning out “urban lit” (a title given to books that are written predominately by African-American authors and focused on street and gang life) as one might do with Women’s fiction or Horror add to the problem or not?
In connection to this, Marta emailed me a link to a talkback opportunity that PW Weekly article she wrote on the subject of being labeled in fiction at all.
And is there no bigger label than the label of “best”? Fuse #8 lists the lists of best children’s books of 2006. She also tells you where you can go to list your favorite blog crushes.
The Written Nerd adds her words to the Forbes Special Report on books.
POD-dy Mouth gives her take on the ongoing Sobol strangeness.
And that’s all the links that I could fit into this print before I ran out of time.
Most of us are in that state. The only coworkers who are devouring books are those who’ve been in school and are now celebrating their freedom from required reading with wanton disregard for all things high brow. Down with Melville and Hawthorne, bring on the YA, the romance, and the memoirs about heroin abuse!
I’m in a similar state to my boss, capable only of skimming a book before I either give up and declare it unreadable or just toss it aside for another day. I’m bored, picky and just plain irritable with authors that I usually love and books that I know are well written. I need a reading evening though, something to restart my internal Zen clock so that I can relax enough to sleep through the night. Tonight would be the perfect night to settle into a book, really give something a chance, but I promised to go check out some gallery exhibits with friends. It doesn’t bode well for that little trip that I’m thinking of bugging out at eight a.m., but it’s not like I know any of the artists we’ll be seeing personally.
Words or pictures? Words or pictures? Hmmm, will have to consider this throughout the work day.
As for y’all, Monica has provided a link (and a breakdown) of the WSJ article on race in fiction. There’s a great discussion going on over there that you should check out and add your two cents. Something to consider: would sectioning out “urban lit” (a title given to books that are written predominately by African-American authors and focused on street and gang life) as one might do with Women’s fiction or Horror add to the problem or not?
In connection to this, Marta emailed me a link to a talkback opportunity that PW Weekly article she wrote on the subject of being labeled in fiction at all.
And is there no bigger label than the label of “best”? Fuse #8 lists the lists of best children’s books of 2006. She also tells you where you can go to list your favorite blog crushes.
The Written Nerd adds her words to the Forbes Special Report on books.
POD-dy Mouth gives her take on the ongoing Sobol strangeness.
And that’s all the links that I could fit into this print before I ran out of time.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Hi, Remember Me?
So, uh, long time, no talk. How are you? Read any good books lately? Terrorized any booksellers?
Been terrorized by any booksellers?
Have you been thinking back fondly to a time when Christmas decorations didn’t come out until after Thanksgiving? I have. Although that time may predate my birth.
Sorry for the lack of posts over the past several days, I was swallowed by the Snot monster and then spit out on my couch, leaving me with only enough energy to watch bad daytime television and curse my inability to move more than three feet in any direction without getting exhausted. My kitchen is decimated. I actually used some of my sick days (for what they were for, not as mental health days)! And I came to loathe the walls of my apartment for their never changing bleh-ness. Oh, and I reread a lot of books because they were close to me in my bookshelf and I didn’t feel like looking for something new.
Dude, I hate being sick.
Fortunately I am now back at work (merrily spreading my germs on to fulfill my part in the never ending cycle of disease), have new reading material, and I plan to take care of that kitchen problem in the next few minutes.
Unfortunately my little fever-denatured brain cells did not come up with anything new and insightful about the book world during my lay-about other than the Christmas season starts way, waaaaay too early. Oh, but it did work hard enough to give me work related dreams. Imagine, if you will, waking up at three am in the morning, fearing that you did not pay your coworkers because you forgot to hit submit on the payroll screen. Or dreaming of sorting through box after box of back stock because you know—just know, damn it—that the book the customer is looking for is back there somewhere! Would that make me Sisyphus and the boxes my hill? ‘Cause being a sissy I admit to fully.
Enough whining though, some exiting stuff happened while I was asleep at the wheel: elections, Rumsfeld resigning, Britney kicking Kevin to the curb, Reese and Ryan breaking up, the author of Sophie’s Choice died, and some books came out. During my delirium I saw the commercial for the new JD Robb, and it could have been the fever affecting me, but I was not impressed.
Anyway, in the spirit of getting the whole book ball going, what book type gifts are you giving this holiday?
(You can admit it if it’s the Marley & Me Special Edition. We don’t judge.)
Been terrorized by any booksellers?
Have you been thinking back fondly to a time when Christmas decorations didn’t come out until after Thanksgiving? I have. Although that time may predate my birth.
Sorry for the lack of posts over the past several days, I was swallowed by the Snot monster and then spit out on my couch, leaving me with only enough energy to watch bad daytime television and curse my inability to move more than three feet in any direction without getting exhausted. My kitchen is decimated. I actually used some of my sick days (for what they were for, not as mental health days)! And I came to loathe the walls of my apartment for their never changing bleh-ness. Oh, and I reread a lot of books because they were close to me in my bookshelf and I didn’t feel like looking for something new.
Dude, I hate being sick.
Fortunately I am now back at work (merrily spreading my germs on to fulfill my part in the never ending cycle of disease), have new reading material, and I plan to take care of that kitchen problem in the next few minutes.
Unfortunately my little fever-denatured brain cells did not come up with anything new and insightful about the book world during my lay-about other than the Christmas season starts way, waaaaay too early. Oh, but it did work hard enough to give me work related dreams. Imagine, if you will, waking up at three am in the morning, fearing that you did not pay your coworkers because you forgot to hit submit on the payroll screen. Or dreaming of sorting through box after box of back stock because you know—just know, damn it—that the book the customer is looking for is back there somewhere! Would that make me Sisyphus and the boxes my hill? ‘Cause being a sissy I admit to fully.
Enough whining though, some exiting stuff happened while I was asleep at the wheel: elections, Rumsfeld resigning, Britney kicking Kevin to the curb, Reese and Ryan breaking up, the author of Sophie’s Choice died, and some books came out. During my delirium I saw the commercial for the new JD Robb, and it could have been the fever affecting me, but I was not impressed.
Anyway, in the spirit of getting the whole book ball going, what book type gifts are you giving this holiday?
(You can admit it if it’s the Marley & Me Special Edition. We don’t judge.)
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