David listed off a hundred truths - so I was seeing if I could. Mostly truths...mostly.
1. My first memory is, seriously, of the ugly pink linoleum and foam green walls of my first bedroom. Which used to be a bowling alley. We slept in the gutter.
2. I still abhor the color foam green to this day. It makes me break out in spiritual angina.
3. My step-mother’s wedding dress was foam green, which should have been my first clue…
4. My “now-straight” boyfriend in college made me buy an outfit with foam green in it, because he thought I looked good in that color. He said I wore too much grey, which I did. (What sort of straight man tells another he looks good in foam green?)
5. Curiously, the pink linoleum didn’t scare me away from pink completely. (Don’t read anything sexual into this, please)
6. I’ve recently been drawn to pink because it’s such a homo color on guys. (Admit it!)
7. I purposely set up some classes with all pink table markers so the white, male engineers will panic a bit when they realize they’ll have to write their names on their name tents in pink. It’s my little challenge in diversity. (Seriously, I wish you could see the engineers pick up the marker blindly, realize it’s pink, and then pop their heads up in panic to look around to room to see if there is any other color they can snatch from any other table.)
8. I’ve never done this with the brown markers, because the thought alone is too sick. (Sorry, Jeff Lindberg!)
9. I come from a family of 7 kids, and my dad married a woman with four of her own, for a total of 11. It was like a zoo, poo-flinging monkeys and all.
10. I generally as a rule don’t like monkey toys.
11. I especially hate the cymbal ones.
12. I do have here at work a monkey toys that screeches really loud when you squeeze it. I fool people into squeezing it to embarrass them. He looks like a cross between a monkey and an Idaho spud. I call him Tater Monkey.
13. I get made fun of because I do not like sock monkeys. Mainly because I was repeated raped by one along time ago….last week.
14. Back in Iowa at the carnivals, the carnies used to give out as prizes, monkey marionettes made from real rabbit fur. I cannot tell you how much absolute terror those things filled me with. (But it wouldn’t stop me from having sex with the carnies. Mmmmm.)
15. A carnie seriously once told me I had cute ears. ???
16. When I was a child, I was always leaving school to go out to the white trailer to get my ears tested. I had ear problems, and actually had tubes put in twice. I felt defective, like I was an expensive disappointment to my Irish dad, who used to treat my ear infections by blowing cigar smoke in my ears (no kidding, old Irish folk remedy). The white trailer had those monkey toys all over the tops of the walls. I would listen really hard to try to pass so that Dad wouldn’t get another “your child is defective” note in the mail.
17. I have very very very good hearing now. I can hear music over a whole restaurant full of people now.
18. I still hate cigar smoke, in fact I am a bit allergic to it, and I don’t doubt that my Dad’s folk remedy has caused me to be psychosomatic about it.
19. My high school job was working with the people who used to test my ears.
20. I used to steal from my high school job, and the guy who caught me was really sweet about it. I only had to have sex with him twice.
21. The job before that was newspaper delivery.
22. In the winter in Iowa, delivering papers, with the wind and the snow, and my tears and snot freezing on my face, I came to truly believe that God personally hated my rotten, stinking guts.
23. I had match girl fantasies of freezing to death, and people would find my body and weep and scream “WHY!?! WHY?!?!” And the senseless tragedy would cause the whole world to become atheist. And that’s how I’d get even with God.
24. I also used to earn extra money on the side by cleaning beauty shops. (That’s how gay I was.)
25. I hate cleaning up hair to this day.
26. I also would go around collecting cans for extra cash. We used to dig in this drunk’s trashcan, until he caught us. He had a huge goiter on his cheek. He was okay with us in the long run. He only made me have sex with him twice.
27. In case you cannot tell, our family was very very poor.
28. Also for money, I’d go to the swimming pool and kick towels. (Steal money from people).
29. The asphalt on the streets to and from the pool was so freaking hot in the summer, I used to swear that God hated my stinking, rotten guts. I used to imagine spontaneously combusting. Then, people would find my ashes and weep and scream “WHY!?! WHY?!?!” And the senseless tragedy would cause the whole world to become atheist. And that’s how I’d get even with that bastard God.
30. I used to go swimming every day in the summer, where I had a crush on the Hundley brothers, who were these sexy lifeguards.
31. The younger lifeguard, Corey Hundley and I both once laid on the pavement once in just the right position so I could stare up his swim trunks.
32. I had a bigger crush on the older brother, Corey Hundley.
33. One year, a man who looked like a tall Corey Hart ran the pool’s concession stand, and I transferred all my lust to him. I think he was a bit of a pedophile, in hindsight. Especially when he’d try to shove a Snickers bar up my hindsight.
34. Later, Craig A. came to swimming in his red Speedos. He was the foster child of the local sheriff, and I could barely breathe around him. He was the star quarterback of the high school team, he was two years older than me, and he was beautifah!
35. Later, after Craig moved out, I went on to be a foster son of that same sheriff and his wife.
36. Craig and I effed like bunnies for 2 and a half years.
37. I might still be with Craig if he hadn’t slugged me once with a coffee mug.
38. I really enjoy coffee, cola, No Doz and anything else with caffeine in it.
39. I tried to quit my caffeine intake. I was successful for about two months.
40. I tried to quit touching myself. I was successful for about 3 days…
41. I have a sizeable collection of pulp porn-novels from the forties on. I admit I started collecting them because I was stupid and thought they were sexy. Now, they make me laugh uncontrollably, and I have been known to sit down with friends on my couch and read aloud to them some of my favorite humorous passages.
42. I have found that they gay pulpporn books are waaaaay funnier than the straight ones. My two favorite titles are The Devil Is a Lesbo and - I swear to Heaven – Chicken Delight. The funniest book by far is called Night Heat.
43. I have been toying with writing a play based on these books, but I’m not sure others would find them as freakin’ hilarious as I do.
44. I have a very dark sense of humor, have you noticed?
45. I once had a college professor question me on my morbid sense of humor. Because I admired her so much, for a while, I started feeling inferior. But then I told my friends, we got high, and we started making fun of that professor. And I never laughed so hard in my life.
46. I later told that professor what we said about her, and she was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her face.
47. That professor is still one of my best friends to this day.
48. Last summer, when my friends and I went to visit Iowa, this professor openly shared with them how much pot we used to smoke.
49. I haven’t done illegal substances since October 31, 1997. Although, I used to ask my dentist for extra Valium, which she would give me, but then that’s not really illegal, is it?
50. The same issues me and my friends made fun of that professor for are the same reasons her husband left her in February after 26 years of marriage. So we’re not laughing as much about those things any more…
51. Her separation was so upsetting to me for the first few weeks, I would cry like a little girl every time I got on the phone with her. I tried to stop, because I thought it was foolish and selfish of me to cry when she was the one going through it, but I just couldn’t.
52. She said something grossly insensitive about my job once, which ironically helped me stop crying for her and her problems. Which is good, because now we can actually talk about what she’s going through without me sobbing.
53. I try not to take sides, but I am furious that her husband, who was also a great friend of mine, hasn’t talked to me since he left her. Like he expects me to take her side or to spy for her or something. He should know me better.
54. My friends think I am incredibly loyal, but I don’t. I will not say rotten things about people behind their backs, because it is more fun to say it to their faces. And I stop others who do it, because I think if you cannot be honest with your friends, either you or they are not worthy of the friendship.
55. You don’t want to gossip with me, or get petty about people, or stab friends in the back, because if I catch wind of it, I have been known to verbally slash and burn someone to within an inch of their lives, publicly humiliating them, and generally causing emotional decimation.
56. I hate myself for being able to do it.
57. I have a gift with words, especially the ones from the beginning half of the alphabet.
58. I’ve always thought of myself as a good playwright, so the fact that the first review of any of my plays is usually negative really infuriates and frustrates me. Never mind that it’s the same reviewer and I think she hates me. Plus I think she’s a bit of an idiot as a whole. I still let her affect my self-esteem.
59. I could tell she was going to hate my last play. I was in the car with my sister, and I was whining, but I basically quoted the biotch critic’s review verbatim two days before it even hit the papers. I was that psychic over what that old cow would say!
60. I said something on public radio that embarrassed that same critic. The radio guy asked me why she took my play about a critic and playwright having an affair so personally, and I said. “I don’t know; I’ve never slept with her.” So….I’ll never get a good review out of her as long as the dried up old crone lives. (Not that I’ve ever gotten one before)…
61. I’ve wanted to ask the critic for that last five years if it’s her goal to convince me to quit writing.
62. When other critics wax poetic over my plays…and they do…I tend to doubt them a bit.
63. If an actor or actress tells me they think I should write a character for them, I almost automatically start getting bitter, because they obviously don’t know what playwrighting is about. Like I’m some vehicle for their star-turn! Like the plot and theme and interaction of the characters comes second to their want to show off their “immense” talent in a good part.
64. I am 35, and I have been recently feeling like as much a failure as I felt when I turned 30. Unmet expectations and all.
65. I have been toying with stopping playwrighting and just concentrating on my work. But the thought of never writing again makes me physically sick and immediately I get a couple good ideas. So, I’ve found an interesting way around writer’s block!
66. My family understands my writing about as much as I understand their obsession with motorcycle drag racing.
67. I now laugh very hard at the fact that the entire family was together for the first time in 20 years last Labor Day and it only to 25 minutes for a fist fight to break out.
68. Jesus could come down from the clouds in all His Glory with Singing Cherubs and Golden Light and all that crud and tell me personally in a big, booming Jesus-y voice that I should go visit my brothers in Oklahoma City, and I would still find something else to do that weekend.
69. Even if Buddha appeared and told me, I would rather clean out my garage.
70. I might listen to James Cagney, if took a turn from Heaven and said the same thing.
71. I think in a past life, I lived on those dirty streets James Cagney walked in Public Enemy.
72. I believe in reincarnation, but I also believe that Jim Jones was just a misunderstood man with a bad childhood (aren’t we all?)
73. I’ve been thinking of creating a cult, too. But I’m not sure I have the start-up fees.
74. Even though I make more money than I ever have before, I still only have $400 in my checking account at any given time.
75. I make more than three of my brothers put together.
76. My sister weighs more than three of me put together.
77. My sister recently told me that one of her best friends had a huge crush on me in junior high, and all I remember about the friend is that she always smelled like old corn chips.
78. I sometimes get little, unprofessional crushes on some of the students I have in my classes. And even though it’s a corporate setting, The Police’s Don’t Stand So Close To Me always starts running through my head.
79. I have a lot of music at home – 1300 CDs. Because it’s an incredible feeling when a song or an album makes you feel more alive.
80. I buy other stuff, too, for the experience of it all. Mostly foreign chocolates and books and DVDs, but I just last night bought this very gay pillow that lights up and changes colors from Linens & Things.
81. I bought the pillow because I am seriously depressed that my play Sons of the Revolution seems to be permanently dead. Or if it’s not permanently dead, I cannot ever imagine wanting to work on it again. Our director walked because he was having some personal problems and he thought the play was too intricate and complex for us to produce correctly. And he’s right. And I wrote it, so I’m feeling like an idiot for writing an expensive, epic play that is almost completely financially unproduceable and then getting my hopes up and getting so emotionally involved and working my @ss off (becoming more than just a playwright, but also an executive producer to try to get it on its feet) just to see it all crumble apart five weeks before we were set to open. And now buying a light-up pillow to fix all the emotional baggage that comes from that seems pretty damn funny! “Oooo, shiny object! Shiny Object!”
82. I don’t want to think of myself as materialistic, but I guess I am.
83. My co-author David wants us to go to Six Women on the Verge of Brain-Death, a musical, but I don’t want to go to theatre or run into theatre people who might know our production was a complete and utter failure.
84. I am never working with this production company ever again. They actually asked if we could take the advertising funds we already raised and just transfer them to their next production! I won’t be surprised if they come to ask David and me to cover the deposit on the theatre, even though the failure is because not enough pre-production was done. WHICH WOULD BE THEIR FAULTS!!! I am so letting my membership run out on this one!
85. Speaking of membership and running out, my DuranDuranMusic membership gives out August 6th. But I think I’ll renew, even though I don’t think I get much out of it. It’s only $35 and I did use it for presale tickets.
86. I am so looking forward to the July 18th Duran Duran concert in Orlando with the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra. I am even hoping that there is a bit of cheese in it, like having the conductor bow with the boys, or having a gospel choir do back-up on Wild Boys.
87. I am also pursuing getting more tickets free. Because I am in Row H and I want to see if I can get closer. And if I can, I am going to give away any other ticket I have. I used to hate God and curse Him and think of ways to get even with Him; now I make deals to see if the Big Guy can get me better seats to Duran Duran concerts in exchange for my altruism.
88. I am a little afraid of running into the woman who used her husband’s back child support for a $350 VIP ticket to the concert. Because on the Duranduran.com bulletin board, I made so much fun of her. However, I think she’s a bit of a psycho and may try to run me down in the convention center parking lot.
89. There was another psycho woman I knew whom I thought would do me bodily harm if she had the chance. She was this woman I fired because she scared the hell out of all my other employees. About two years later, I ran into her on one of the free Lymmo buses downtown, and I pretended I couldn’t remember who she was. I was hoping she’d see I’d moved on and that she should too. But she was really really really upset that I didn’t remember her. Her name is Deb and I kept calling her Barbara.
90. Sometimes, for that same reason, I pretend I forget Billy Manes’ name and call him Janice.
91. Janice is one of my favorite underrated Muppets.
92. I miss Jim Henson.
93. Once, my adopted mom dragged me to a Carol Channing touring production of Hello Dolly where she was so old, she couldn’t remember what theatre she was in without a cue card in the pit. I made the comment to my friends later that when Carol dies, they’re going to dig up Jim Henson, shove his cold dead hand up her @ss, and make her do that d@mn show again.
94. Although that joke is sick and disrespectful of Jim Henson, I still laugh about it. I laugh even harder whenever I think about the shocked expressions on my friends’ faces!
95. I have to pee really bad!
96. I missed lunch to finish this.
97. I am astounded at what I get away with here at work. Until I think about all the late nights I don’t charge them for. And I am very lucky because I love my job.
98. Sometimes I stay late at work just so I can miss I-4 traffic.
99. This morning on the way to work, I saw a smashed up police car in the median, and I couldn’t help wondering if the cop was okay. But I also thought of the George Carlin joke, “Officers, we can’t see! Can you bring the bodies closer to the car?”
100. I hate driving so much, and I believe that I am such a crappy driver, and I get so infuriated with other people not using turn signals and cutting me off, that I am pretty sure I am going to die in a violent, fiery crash along the road. And if it happens, and I was psychic, you heard it here first. Just make sure that my corpse isn’t wearing any sea foam green!
