Earlier this afternoon, I was hot to write a post about the $!^*$# driver who ran a stop sign just as I was making a turn. I turned vigilante and honked at her as she barreled down the residential street. She was way ahead of me when I saw her run the next stop sign. I honked again, long and loud.
The street curved and I lost sight of her (because she was doing like, 50 pn a 30 mph residential street), but she came back into view just as she reached the next stop sign, which she also ran. I honked again, even longer.
She was really far ahead of me when she reached the final sign on the street. I think I honked before she even hit the sign. This time, she came to a complete stop. And she waited for me to get about 10 car lengths behind her before she moved ahead -- at speed limit -- and made a left, finally getting away from me.
So the first Weird and Random Fact About Me -- as tagged by my friend Michelle (aka White Trash Mom) is this: I have been known to turn into a wild vigilante when I get behind the wheel.
Here are six more:
2. I was a theater kid in high school. OK, here's something even more horrifying: I was in a mime troupe. No wonder I never had any dates.
3. I met my husband in 1989. In a chat room. (Yes, we had them back then -- only they were on large online networks like CompuServe, or local bulletin board systems, which was the scene of that particular crime.)
4. Every time I've taken an aptitude test, I've scored high for ability in math. This would surprise anyone who has witnessed me panic when I have to work the snack bar at my daughter's gym. Opening and closing put me in a panic, because I have so much trouble counting the money and balancing the cash drawer.
5. In my Freshman high school guidance class, I had to take a test that showed my interests and my score for math was: less than 2%.
6. My mother tells me that my first words were in Spanish. That's because when I was nine months old, she took me back home to Havana so my grandparents could see me, and that's where I started to talk. Batista was still in power and Castro's revolution was just getting started. It would be the only time I came in contact with my paternal grandfather; he died a couple of years before Fidel allowed him to emigrate over here.
7. After that auspicious beginning, I can't speak Spanish now. I took three years in high school and one in college and can barely put together a simple sentence. But if my mom is telling stories about me to our Cuban relatives, for some reason, I can tell what she's saying and when she's exaggerating.
OK, so now I get to share the linky love (although the seven great bloggers below may not agree with the way I'm showing them my affection):
- Michele at Aprilbaby's California Life
- Nicole at Being a Mom is Great
- Jill at Caffeine Court
- Lorna in Wonderland
- Karoli of Odd Time Signatures
- Tammy of Quilt Therapy
- Sher of Wiping the Crazy Off My Face
