Quaaludes, My Autism, Tickle Sticks, and Russian Dynasties for $1000, Alex

Now I consider myself pretty darn hip hop happening with pop culture comings and goings. Ok, actually to a fault. To a point where people are like "Why do you know that?" in either a confused/judgmental way or in a reverential/awestruck way. And Boyfriend says "Why would I give a fuck about that?" (So clearly we mesh really well.) I actually think I'm a wee bit autistic because a) I have to buy my underwear at Walmart, and b) I remember THE most random shit ever and can blurt out things I didn't even know I knew. "The last czar of Russia whose reign ended in 1916" "WHO IS NICHOLAS THE SECOND!" Hence I am indestructible at Jeopardy and no one will play with me anymore. *mopey face* Annnnnnygay, because it's a highly confidential and important process, I am the one who sorts the mail for my firm. I know! I know! So much responsibility. One of the perks to counterbalance the stress factor is that I can confiscate magazines for my own self when they come in. This is how I am familiar with a little gem called US Weekly. Actually, is it Us Weekly, like "us" you and me? Or like U.S. Weekly? I'm guessing the former.

Soooooo, in a recent ass-wiper issue there was the usual life-enriching feature "25 Things You Don't Know About Me" where a celebrity answers with fun FUN factoids that make them seem awesome and human and "just like us" -- Yeah! This "celebrity" was some hepcat named Blake Shelton and he resembles an Asian-y wayyyyyy-uglier version of McSteamy. According to The Google and The Wikipedia, he's a country singer who sings songs I don't think I've ever heard. (Mind you I no longer attend an Ag school, nor do I still reside in Tejas.) But he wins awards and shit, so yay for Blake.

See? Asian Less-Hot McSteamy... Right?

Why I read this article, I do not know. But friends, you should feel joy that I undertook this eyeball workout because there are some fucking delightful little bits of unintentional hilarity in Mr. Shelton's nuggets of personality. Maybe being doofy is like part of his charm. Maybe some of y'all know and love him and are like, "Oh he's all simple and sweet and that's this thing." Like Kid Rock would talk about tits and blow and sleeping in dumpsters. I wouldn't hate on him. We don't judge, we love.

Now, mind you, possible 25 Things Filler-Outers, this is not a personal diary. This is not an interview with some kid from Make A Wish or a little buckaroo from Bumswipe, Tennessee's local paper. This is an actual national magazine that zillions of people either love to read or hate and read anyway. Plus, I'm pretty sure the 'celebs' get to write these answers in, so they must be given more than 35 seconds to come up with shit. Like, I would mention that I love when my mom makes strawberry pie (and that we call strawberries "slawbellies" for an unknown yet adorable reason) and that I was a Religion major (haaaaaaa!) and that my first crush was the cartoon fox from Robin Hood, and that I have a hilarious childhood anecdote about how witty I naturally am. What's that? You want to hear it right now? Awwww shucks, fine twist my arm.

So I guess we're in church, me and my mother, I'm like 5, we live in Boston. The minister invites all the kids to gather round the altar and talk about today's message by asking cute kid questions. All very adorable, very Bill Cosby. So that day the sermon was about building God's church or some shi---ning special thing, and he asks (no fucking molesting priest jokes, ok jerks, this is a CUTE story) "What are good things that we can use our hands for?" Those other lame, unoriginal, non-future-talk-show-host kiddies say things like "For hugging my gwandma!" and "For playing with toys with my fwiends!" and then a hush falls over the congregation (I may be adding some extra drama here), Mr. Pastor Man turns to this angelic cherub with two pigtail braids (who may or may not wind up an alcoholic jailbird), and I say rather excitedly, "BECAUSE YOU CAN USE THEM FOR CATCHING LOBSTERS!!!" Obviously the crowd goes wild, inappropriately loud for church laughter ensues, and the minister is laughing so hard, he's kind of clutching the altar and crying. (Or maybe I'm embellishing a tad.)

I love this story because it's not like bragging because you don't remember things you say as a kid, and yet I can feel so proud of that bizarre little person who formulated that ridiculous idea, on the fly. Not only had I never personally caught lobsters with my hands (in fact I set the ones waiting to go into the pot one night free by taking them methodically to the porch to skitter off back to the ocean -- hey, we had a beach house in Cape Cod, I wasn't THAT crazy.) I had never witnessed anyone accomplish such a feat, nor do I think that anyone regularly accomplishes said feat. Ok, no, I just googled it and it can be done with scuba gear in the middle of night, also requiring compasses, kevlar gloves and things called dive beacons, lobster gauges (?) and tickle sticks. Heeeeheeeee that part sounds delightful!!! Actually, no it doesn't, tickling fucking sucks,and I always punch the offender and then they get all butt-hurt. Anyway, point being, I was once and ever shall be adorable, hilarious, and totally fucking nuts. Amen.

ME, CAPE COD, AGE 5

Now what the fuck was I writing about? Oh yeah Blake Shelton whatever, country legend and man of some deep, poetic, and amazing revelations.

So while clearly my 25 Things would be fucking adorbs, Blake went a bit rogue. Listen to some of Mr. Shelton's. Top five. These are REAL.

1. I like orange-flavored gum.

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat??? You so crazy Blake Shelton!!! Gum is for cleaning up your stank mouth with minty shit, not for fruit flavors! What is next with you, dude?? And also, this is the FIRST thing that leaps to mind when you are asked to tell the country some interesting factoids? Wow. Bring it.

4. I often find myself wondering, What kind of tree is that?

Stop it! Just stop it, man! I might pee on myself. It hurts! I can't breathe! Who says this? EVER? Really? This is like comedy gold. I don't even want to touch it with commentary. It's. Just. Too. Good.

12. If Australia were closer, I would go there.

Oooooooh so many big "IF's" you have opened up with your existential thinking, Mr. S! IF I weren't so poor I'd move to Austin and lay by my pool all day with all my friends and get shit-faced while my staff of nannies took care of Phinneas and Atticus (both girls, ps). IF Stanford University accepted my eggs as payment, I could have gone there. IF the liquor store were closer, I would not be tearing my closet apart looking for the brilliantly disguised (in water bottles) secret stashes of vodka that I hide when I'm drunk and then forget. (Note to self: look into treasure maps.) So tell me friends, if _____ were ______, what would YOU DO???

14. I don't have a birthmark.

How? What? Huh? I have never NEVER in my twenty-hkgjhqkjh years on this planet heard such a phrase, let alone considered such a concept. Can this occur in nature? It seems absurd. Not a freckle? Does that mean you literally have not a single alteration in the shade of your skin on your entire fucking person? Ummmm, Mr. "Put the Lotion in the Basket" just got VERY VERY interested in country music and wants to meet you. Hope you are ok with killing small poodles so as not to get the hose again.
 
18. I am interested to know how quaaludes would make me feel.

Well, are you now, Blake? That IS a really fun fact that, yes it's true, I Didn't Know About You. First, is this 1970? Quaaludes? The last time I even heard the mention of quaaludes was in Valley of the Dolls (fucking phenomenal, people). I'm pretty sure we have way cooler shit than that nowadays. Weren't they 'sleeping pills'? Try some Xanax and vodka dude. Get some great weed and Jameson. Clonazepam and wine. The combinations are endless... and available... and you are not a 12-year-old Amish boy living in Mongolia.You are in the music industry, sir, I think you can make this happen. No need to ponder. Make it happen. Report back. 




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