'wanna tell you 'bout the girl i love...'*

youdamom! tagged me last week with the “10 Things About Me!” meme that, I have to say, is like my love for Bono, all things purple and my stunning grace and allure – undying.

After tackling similar tags a couple of times, I figured it would be impossible to come up with even two more things about myself that were of any interest, let alone ten. Granted, none of what I’m about to tell you may strike you as the least bit captivating. I can accept that. It won’t hurt my feelings.

But then I remember how utterly kick ass I am and I have to think you’ll all at least have the kindness to play along and humor me. You know I’d give you the love, too. So, without further hyperbole, I give you the following:

g I am a lip balm and lip gloss whore. Plain and simple. I’ll pucker up for any brand and any flavor. Tubes, sticks, pots, wands. Flavored like mint or pretend fruit. The color of bubblegum, flowers, caramels or sunsets. I have no loyalty. Just a dirty, dirty obsession with keeping my lips smooth and glossy. Alluring if you really want to take it that far. Pictured is a sampling of what I carry in my purse (at last count – 13) and my make up tub. I’m giddy for gloss.

g In my possession is a videocassette of me performing Madonna’s "Material Girl". In a black bra. Oh, they can beg and they can plead but that tape won’t see the light (that’s right).

g I have gigantic sunglasses. Oh, not like this. But kind of like hers. Maybe slightly bigger. But mine cost me only $4.50 at JC Penney’s (because I had a coupon, baby, and I’m not above slummin’!) and didn’t include a Maverick with purchase. I wear them in all seasons, in any weather. I don’t care if it’s raining or dark. I may or may not do this to honor one of my pretend husbands. He likes it when I put them on, then whisper words about debt reduction while calling him my “knight.”

g I’m a chronic list maker. Every week I start off with some bullet-pointed personal manifesto for what I hope to accomplish in that seven-day span. If I actually accomplish something before I’ve had a chance to include it on my list, I’ll write it down anyway just so I have the satisfaction of then crossing it off. It makes me happy in a really sad kind of way. I know.

g Paid programming fascinates me. Thirty minute advertisements for Clever Clasp, One-Touch Can Opener, Yoga Booty Ballet, Pro-Activ, the Betty Crocker Bake-n-Fill. I love them all. I never kill off my finances buying anything off television, but I can and have killed off hours watching these types of things.

g When I’m having a bad day, I sometimes wish I had a life narrator who prefaced any encounter I have with people with the line, “Ok, people, listen up. Marla’s gone rogue.” And then there would be this really dramatic and brief drum or bass line as I entered the darkened room. Because of course it would be dark. CTU dark.

g I never remember my dreams. Oh, I’ve had some dreams where I’ve woken up in tears or experienced some nice little sexual side effect, and believe me, I’ve tried to reclaim those events, but it never works. The last dream I remember having consistently was when I was a teenager and I would dream nightly that the street I lived on had been inhabited by culturally acclimated apes. Seriously. They dressed like humans. Drove cars. Went to jobs or school. And then roamed the street and tossed their waste around. Seriously.

g I say “seriously” a lot. Seriously. I use it as a matter of questioning (“Seriously?”), exclamation (“Seriously!”) and as a basic statement (“Seriously.”). I seriously need to curb it, but I seriously love it a bit too much.

g Sometimes I wanna give up, I wanna give in, I wanna quit the fight. And then I see you baby, and everything’s alright.

g Speaking of bad English, I’m an admitted grammar and spelling snob. I don’t necessarily like this trait, but as a former editor it’s a bit ingrained. It’s really bad when you consider this blog is probably riddled, Tupac style, with glaring errors in word usage and punctuation. However, if you’re going to send me your homemade high school graduation announcement, please proofread it. One error? I’d probably let it go with just a passing comment. Three errors? I’m going to have a hard time with that. I'm talking to you, my niece, with your inability to form a proper conjunction or properly use indefinite articles.

g A bonus – I am confidant that with a can of Suave extra hold mousse, a curling iron, some Aussie Super Scrunch and some AquaNet, I could have my hair as big and bouncy as John Waites did in that spectacular Bad English video. In fact, I may have looked like that in my high school graduation photo.

So that’s it. The little things that make me interesting. Or sad. You be the judge. I seriously don’t know if I have it in me to do a tag like this again (plus, I feel like I should confess that I jotted down half this list while in church today)! Apparently, I’m supposed to tag 10 other people to do this, but because I’m rogue, I’ll just allow you to do it if you wish. And I’ll play along and humor you if you do.

Hell, maybe I’ll even pucker up and kiss you with my slutty little lip balmed lips.

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* Alternate titles for this post included, but were not limited to, the following:

• "No way. I scare me!"
• "What kind of fuckery is this?"
• "I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind"
• It's a secret no one knows"
• "Can you tell me? Oh, you say you can, but you don't know"

Yeah, like I was just going to let that Hanson thing die easily. Instead, I opted for the classics.

Like "MmmBop" will be one day, of course.