… and you get a metric fuckload of silly answers.
I have been given a total of two engagement rings. The first engagement was a complete waste of both of our time and energy. I tried to
throw give the ring back, but he said it was mine. It wasn’t worth much, but I sold it and bought myself a string of nice pearls. Every woman should have pearls. Anyway, I’m still wearing the second engagement ring (along with its bestie, the wedding band), but on my index finger, because, although they were tight when I got married, and impossible to wear for years after, they’re now way too big on me. Which, yay.
This marriage is, without a doubt, the longest relationship in which I’ve been. Aside from the eleven years we’ve had paper and rings, we were a couple for a few years before that. At this point, I reckon we really mean it.
The last gift I received was a silver claddagh ring with an emerald heart, for Christkwaanzukahsticestivuseid. I didn’t get anything for my birthday due to finances (and I was too sick to go out to dinner), but I should be getting something nice for my smokeaversary, which is next month.
I dropped a cell phone into a puddle once. I stuck it in a bag of rice, but it never came back to life. I was so mad. However, it was one of those older phones, with buttons and an antenna, so it’s not like I had any vital photos saved on it or anything.
The last time I worked out, a full workout, was yesterday, but in my defense, I did do a full-body yoga stretch when I got up. I modify it to allow for my lack of balance and range of motion, but I still get all the muscles loosened up. Also, I’ll be walking later, so if I skip a full workout, I’m not going to sweat it. Heh.
In general, the only things I get to spend a lot of money on are medical bills or car repairs. I get a design on the nails of my ring fingers when I have a manicure, but I’m supposed to go every two weeks and I usually don’t even have enough money to go every four weeks. I can manage every five weeks, but my old manicure is usually quite the hot mess by then.
The last food I ate was last night, when we had hot dogs and beans because it was the fourth of July. I only had a small spoonful of beans because they raise your sugar and I’m trying to watch my carbs. That Man of Mine, the diabetic, finished the bowl.
I think the first thing I notice about the opposite sex is his facial bone structure. Eyes (and eyebrows) next, then his smile. If I can get close enough, I will check out his aftershave.
I don’t know if I have one favorite song. I love music so much. Every time I hear something new to me, it’s my favorite. Sometimes, I re-hear something old, and that speaks to me as well: like, I finally just learned all the words to Eres Tú, but it’s not my favorite; it was just bothering me. Possibly Danny Boy. It’s so sad, but it’s one of my favorite songs to sing, and my favorite recordings of it are Eva Cassidy’s and Harry Connick, Jr.’s (his long version).
I live in North Las Vegas. Some people think that this means I live at the northern part of the Strip, but I’m just too embarrassed to say so. No. North Las Vegas is an actual city, with three post offices and Nellis Air Force Base, just in case you think we’re kidding. It takes about fifteen minutes to get from here to the Strip, but that’s cool, ‘cos we never really go there anyway. We’re locals now. We refer to this city as “Northtown,” and we know where the good off-the-strip hangouts are. If you want to go to Vegas and not be bothered by that much neon, well, we can’t help you with that, but we can take you to the supermarket, where there is much less neon, and air conditioning, and slot machines, and liquor, and red seedless grapes for 79¢ a pound.
I went to West Haven High School, in West Haven, Connecticut. West Haven is to New Haven what knock-off sneakers are to Nikes: pretty much exactly the same, and perfectly serviceable, and the pizza is just as fantastic, but without the brand-name. For the most part, when people from Vegas ask me where I’m from, I say “Connecticut,” and then they ask me if I know Aaron Hernandez. From now on, I think I’ll say I’m from “just outside New York.”
My cell phone is a Trac-Fone. If I finally commit to a carrier service, I’ll let you know. Assuming you care. I have no idea why this question was asked of anyone, let alone me, but I presume it’s important.
The last wedding I attended was two strangers. They got married in the Stations buffet. To each their own. I have higher hopes for the salad bar, which had proper olives the other day, than I do for the marriage.
My favorite fast-food restaurant is El Pollo Loco. I know the other chains claim to have what they consider healthy alternatives, but El Pollo Loco is the only one that I can pick from most of the menu and just avoid a few items. It’s the other way round with all the other fast-food joints.
That said, my real favorite fast-food restaurant, when I don’t care what I’m putting into my body, is Sonic. I will have large tots, with a side of tots, and a diet cherry-vanilla Doctor Pepper, and can I get extra tots with that, please?
drinking: ice water
listening to: Thea Gilmore, Even Gods Do
neil gaiman: fast becoming one of my favorite writers ever