Confession time. I’m the one who always breaks chain letters.
Something about them just doesn’t sit well with me. Maybe it’s the fact that some of them tell you that if you don’t participate, you’ll have bad karma for seven years. Or, that somewhere in the world, a kitten will die. Metaphorically, I figure I’ve killed many a kitten over the years.
But the latest chain letter that’s been passed on to me has me intrigued… and doesn’t threaten any small animals… so I’m breaking my own rules. Bethany at Organic Enchilada tagged me in a rousing game of internet “To Tell the Truth.” Basically, you’re supposed to tell 5 lies and one truth, and see who can guess the right one. Since my creative well is a little parched right now (and I discovered that making up falsities was a lot harder than I thought), I’ve put my own spin on this.
Below are 5 true stories, and one completely falsified story. Can you pick which one is completely hogwash?
#1. In college, I blew out my knee doing cartwheels at a summer barbecue. There may have been some alcohol involved. My roommates carried me back to our house. They had used all of the ice to make margaritas, so one of them held a package of frozen hot dogs on my knee. My acrobatic attempts earned me hot dog shaped freezer burn on my knee, a torn ACL and MCL, reconstructive knee surgery, and six months of physical therapy. I haven’t done a cartwheel in over 15 years. But I still eat hot dogs.
#2. I was a foreign languages major in school. Ruefully, I have to admit that I have not used a single one of those languages more than a handful of times since graduation. I can, however, still say “I’d like a beer, please” and “Where is the bathroom” in four languages. Which I guess would be handy if I ever visited a bar in a place where they speak Chinese, French, Spanish or Vietnamese.
#3. After graduation, I backpacked through Europe with some friends. One of the highlights of the trip was getting to run with the bulls in Pamplona. It was an adrenaline rush unequal to one I have ever experienced, and far more dangerous than I could have ever foreseen. Mainly because I slipped on a cowpie while chasing after the bulls, and sprained my ankle. I toured the rest of Europe on crutches.
#4. I’ll try almost any food at least one time. I’ve eaten fried pigs ears, chicken feet, turtle, alligator, bunny, snake meat, and something called a hundred-year egg. I’ve also drank snakes blood. I might do well on one of those Survivor food challenges. As long as they did not make me eat ketchup. Because, ironically, I can’t stomach either the smell or taste of ketchup.
#5. I have a semi-photographic memory. I used to cram for tests by scanning pages of notes and then regurgitating information the next day. I still have the names and addresses from our wedding guest list memorized. Oddly, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast most mornings, whether I brushed my teeth that day, or where I put the car keys.
#6. I tend to get gassy when I’m nervous. And when I attended my first Christmas with my now-husband’s extended family, I was very nervous. Not wanting to appear anti-social, I’d try to silently slink off into the corner and let one rip. Which worked well until my husband’s uncles tried to join me in the corner for some chit chat. “Oh, man,” one of the uncles said, gagging. “Was that you, Bob?” “Wasn’t me,” said the other uncle. “Well, it had to have been the dog,” Bob answered back. He shoved the sleeping dog out the back door and into the cold snow. “No human could have made a smell like that,” he said as he closed the door. I didn’t dare fess up after that.
So there you have it. Way more about me than you probably ever wanted to know.
But at least I can rest easy tonight knowing that, somewhere in the world, a small kitten lives on because of me.