Elevenses

My Fellow Inebriates,

You’d think I’d be hard to catch, being very small and usually concealed say, under the toilet for a post-cocktail nap, but the other day I got tagged by Unhappy Mommy. Yes!

Elevenses…Pooh reaches for some honey lager.

For wild bears the word “tagged” conjures up a lot more than blogging conviviality. My friend Scary, who claims to have been caught in a leghold trap prior to his Toys R Us sojourn and purchase, would get very ornery at being tagged, but I kind of like it.

Unhappy Mommy gave me the following rules: I have to answer one of her 11 questions and then pose 11 of my own to 11 other bloggers.

Of all the times-table problems, 11×11 has always been a bitch for me. I can remember all of them, people, but for some reason I trip on 11×11. And 11×12. And of course 11×13, etc. I think it’s because the 11 times tables set you up for ease of calculation: 11, 22, 33, blah blah blah. And then, HOLY FREAKING SHIT, what the hell does 11×11 amount to? I guess I have some elevenish baggage.

Unhappy Mommy asked a lot of questions that really demand they be answered by a person of more depth. But you get what you get with LB, so I’m answering this one:

What is your favorite part of your day?

Absolutely, the best part of the day is Happy Hour, although it’s more of a notion in our household than an actual recurring ritual. For the obvious reasons I don’t care much for mornings, although I’ve had some good ones—this one for instance:

And now for my questions:

  1. Did you have a lovable animal when you were little, and was there a point when you decided it was childish? What was the trigger?
  2. Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
  3. Do you think there’s a divide between physiological addiction and physical addiction, and where do you think alcoholism falls?
  4. Is there any topic that you consider absolutely out of bounds as far as humor goes?
  5. How much attention do you pay to politics?
  6. Are you hopeful about our planet? Why or why not?
  7. If you are a parent, how is your parenting different from your parents’? Is this deliberate? Why or why not?
  8. What is the most memorable book or movie for you?
  9. How many “presences,” for lack of a better word, do you have on the web? Are they true to who you are in real life, or do you maintain some distance between your web representation and your private reality?
  10. What’s the closest you’ve ever been to death?
  11. Do you prefer your martini with gin or vodka?

And now for my 11 blogging peers. If I could compel you to answer all 11 questions I would, because you’re fascinating writers and I’d love to know your answers. But the 11×11 rules say pick just one. (Feel free to break the rules.)

On My Square 

Snide Reply 

Zen in the City 

Kitchen Slattern 

The Waiting 

Oh God, My Wife Is German 

Ashley Jillian

Damp Squid

The Dogs of Beer

Becoming Cliché 

Rinse and/or Repeat 

Advertisements

Tag! You’re it. You’re its. All 11 of you.

My Fellow Inebriates,

As depicted by Miss P (and in reality) I have, at most, two brain cells. So when Clip Snark, of whom I’m a big fan, tagged me with this little game I told myself to remember it and then promptly forgot.

It’s not an award, although it does come with a graphic reminiscent of certain other chain-letter-style awards. Cool enough for me, Snarky.

Besides, my parents haven’t opened any bottles lately. I have nothing to review. 😦

So here are the rules:

  • Post the rules (okay, here)
  • Answer the questions (sure)
  • Create 11 new questions (nah, these ones are good enough…except one…guess which)
  • Tag 11 people with a link to your post (this is a good day to do this; I’m sober—AGONIZINGLY SOBER)
  • Let them know you’ve tagged them (well, they’ll see the click, I bet—but I’ll try)

Questions

  1. Do you have a test or tests that help you judge someone’s character? Uh, no. I gravitate to drunken, apocalyptic types, but I don’t have any criteria they have to meet. If someone can be with me and not beat the hell out of me, they’re usually okay.
  2. When did you first feel like a grown-up? When my parents gave me this bear-sized bottle of mescal I thought I was on my way. But then they wouldn’t open it. Ever.
  3. What is something you read that made you wish you could write that well? Check this out.
  4. What do you say when you answer the phone? The what? I’ve never thought of answering the phone.
  5. Have you ever stiffed someone on a tip? My parents have never taken me to a bar (I could ride in a purse, damn it). And I don’t really do solids, so I’ve never had a restaurant meal. But if I did, I would leave a huge tip. Massive.
  6. Do you have a favorite writing utensil? No. I don’t like utensils; they are generally out to get me. What the world needs is a line of utensils that don’t require opposable thumbs.
  7. Do you use a calendar? For what?
  8. Do you have road rage? No. I don’t have ‘roid rage either.
  9. Are you a morning person or a night owl? Neither; I’m drunk at both ends.
  10. What surprised you about blogging when you first started? That I continued.
  11. If you could drink anything at all, what would you choose? Shiraz.

Okay, on to 11 lucky bloggers…

Beerbecue

The Waiting

Momma’s Money Matters

theadventuresoftransman

Rant and Roll

Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems: Reno Division

boydrinksworld

Becoming Cliché

I’ll Sleep When They’re Grown

Awkward Laughter 

ArtStormer

Taaaggggg.