Dream

I believe I will twist a meme. Rachael made this entry where she decided to tag every reader, like the proper gay bitch she is (:P), so I will twist the original topic. Instead of writing about myself, I will write about a few people I know. No numbers, no tagging of other people (although you are welcome to use my idea), no porn, etc. I will just name some people (with a noun to identify them like “brother” or a first name).

My Brother

Should you tell him about his navel, he will firmly maintain that he has none. He also will tell you that he doesn’t wash his feet. To make sure they don’t get “accidentally” washed while he is showering them, he wraps them in plastic bags.*

My Grandfather

My grandfather (my mom’s father) is a strong Roman Catholic. When his two youngest songs were young, he did not encourage them to play hockey because he considered it “wrong”. He loved to watch wrestling. He would also turn off the TV if a couple happened to kiss.

My Grandmother

My mother’s mom is a rather down-to-earth person. She’ll look at the practical side of things rather than question herself about Life, Death and Spirits.

* Of course he does wash his feet.

Blah blah blah. I started this entry yesterday or the day before, and now I’m actually in a good mood and don’t feel like continuing on the same line. I don’t know who else to talk about. I guess I just *had* to post something about my brother.

It snowed today. The snow will melt soon, but for now the soil is covered in snow, and that sucks. I hate snow, I hate winter.

Bleh. Life bores me. I’m not really interested in blogging anymore. I just play hidden objects games all day long, while listening to music. There are over 7000 songs in my iTunes playlist, and surely more to come once I get enough money to buy a new disc with over 100GB of space.

I’ll be adding some links just about now.

I was visiting Rachael and saw she had posted this, so I stole it from her. With no remorse.

I’m Afraid of Many Things Because of A Stinking Trash Can

Once upon a time, there was a mother who sent her daughter to change the bag of the outdoors garbage can, because it wasn’t smelling good. Obedient, the then 13-year-old girl went straight away (I guess she was reluctant a little, trash cans are not pleasant to change whatever your mental state is). She pulled the lid up and saw rice. She thought “Huh? What is rice doing there?” Plus, the rice was a bit outside the can. Who throws away things so carelessly?

Then she saw the rice was moving. She identified it immediately as something else than rice, and rushed indoors, screaming to her mother, her sister and the entire population of the country that “There are a bunch of [insert name of thing here]“.

And her mother had cooked rice for dinner. Splendid.

In the past few years, since that event, I have been on and off afraid of:

• The W-word. Spoken, written, and materialized.
• Rice. Above all when, in boiling water, it moves around.
• Noodles moving, whatever the reason is.
• Various bugs.
• Garbage cans and bags, above all the orange ones.
• Outdated food.
• Nearly outdated food.
• The dark.
• The back door of my parents’ house, and the…thing it leads to. Whatever its name is.

And surely more things that my brain has pushed into the darkest depths of my memory.

I Make Lists

I’m a compulsive list maker. I barely ever have a to-do list, but I make lists of everything: French verbs ending in “er”, English verbs, three-letter words, countries, capitals, languages, religions, characters from certain TV series, books, bands…and, of course, lists of things I love to make lists of.

I Collect Model Animals

I prefer dogs or cats, but I also have an extensive collection at my parents’ home. It includes several felines, cows, deers, crocodiles, sharks, monkeys, horses, etc. I started collecting them several years ago (when a lot of the money my mother gave me went to buying those), and bought my latest piece (a baby lynx) a couple of days ago.

Of course, you can take this and post it on your site.