I was tagged by blogger buddy Dan, who did the same on his blog. Here are the rules.
1. first, post these rules
2. post 8 random facts about yourself
3. write a blogspot about those facts
4. tag and name 8 more bloggers
5. tell them that they're tagged at their blog
So here goes:
Factoid #1: I love me some Diet Coke with Lime. I could drink this stuff all day long, and usually do. I get pissed off at the grocery stores and gas stations that do not have Diet Coke with Lime stocked. If for some reason I am dying of thirst and have to have a carbonated drink, then I’ll look for Cherry Coke Zero, which is the only “zero” product I can stomach. But that’s an odd flavor too, so I’d usually hit Diet Dr. Pepper as a 3rd runner up.
Factoid #2: I once got a D on my report card in Math. It was in Geometry in the 10th grade, and was luckily not a semester grade, so nobody but my parents and I knew about it (until today!). The idiotic Mr. Vinson, who had no business being a teacher, would actually go to the board, or sometimes not, and read the problem in the book they used as an example and then say “Your homework is…” and actually BE DONE with class. The rest of the time was devoted to us doing the homework. His sorry ass was reported to the principal and Mr. Vinson’s life was miserable for a while, of which I take great pleasure knowing. Mr. Vinson thought he was soo funny; he put a comment code that meant “wastes time in class” on a report card where I actually snagged a B that term. JERK! He’s probably in jail and a registered sex offender by now. I would not be shocked.
Factoid #3: The worst college class I ever took--and of ALL TIME!--was Victorian Poetry. I have never, ever seriously considered dropping a class until I ran into Dr. B’s class. (Why I’m protecting his name right now is beyond me…) Anyway, the class started out innocently enough until the day he gave us a pop quiz. This was no ordinary pop quiz, no siree. Dr. B. had an answer bank on said quiz that began with letter A and went through AAA! His instructions I remember to this day: “You may use some, all, none, or multiple answers for this quiz”!!! WTF!! I got like a 13 F on that one! I was feeling mighty low… To top it off, his class was built upon 2 major grades: a midterm paper, and a final paper. He offered the class his “opinion” if we decided to turn in our papers early, he’d be happy to let us know how we were doing. I was sorta put back by the fact that I was the only one who did this. NOBODY ELSE DID. I soon found out why; he ripped my paper to shreds, employing a rainbow of colors no doubt from his Tinkerbell collection of highlighters! He handed the paper back to me, looked me in the eye, and recommended that I “start all over again”. The paper was due in 2 days. I felt like slugging his Irish-ass that day! Long story short: Snagged a B overall. (He let us drop our 2 lowest quizzes, so I got to say “buh-bye” to the 13-F that I earned.
Factoid #4: I sold thousands of $ in comic books for $100. My entire childhood collection, in fact. You see, I had probably 11 full “long boxes” (acid free, mind you) full of mostly DC ("Dumb Comics") that I had been collecting since I was like 11. These books were mostly super-hero team books, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman (Perez’s), the Legion of Super-Heroes, and my favorite, Kevin MacGuire’s run on the Justice League. All had been placed in plastic bags and many had the acid-free backing boards in them too. But I was so eager to unload them because I had moved in to a small apartment and had zero room for them. I was storing them at my mother-in-law’s and bless her soul, she didn’t mind really. I cited reasons that I had to “act like a grown-up" and “move on with my life” etc. But I really wish I hadn’t done that. Many of them were precious to me, and I regret that awful sale to a slimy, shady-ass comic book dealer who gave me a check (that may have even bounced…don’t remember). Oh yeah, I had to also drive like 50 miles to this joint in the “bad part of town” with my aging Honda Accord strapped down with my treasure.
Factoid #5: I was involved in a cult for 11 miserable years of my life. Long story short, I made a CD of original music and interview material that helped me to purge my negative vibes about the subject. It mostly worked. I’ve posted some mixes on the blog before, but my class (for which I did the CD as a project/documentary) loved it and was fascinated at how I, a “normal, intelligent, and mostly well-rounded guy” got sucked into a cult. Hit me up if you really want to know or to hear my creation. BTW, if anyone from Victory Chapel, The Door Christian Fellowship, or The Potters House approaches you or invites you to some concert or revival, run like hell!
Factoid #6: I reported my shitty neighbor to Animal Control, and they gave him a citation for abuse. The funny part (if there is one—it’s quite sad actually) is that he has no clue how much I hate him and wish he’d just disappear. When my son mistakenly opened his trash can, which had been left untouched by the garbage men—it was identical to ours, that’s why he looked—and saw a dead cat in it, he, of course, freaked. I was mortified and had been thinking of ways to bust him. Like a total dumbass, the neighbor left the can for 2 weeks on the road, and each time the garbage men did not take it. So I finally made a call to Animal Control and the problem was taken care of. Now he’s on the “watch list” for abuse, which serves his lowlife sorry-ass right.
Factoid #7: I used to be very angry at my Dad growing up, but now I’m over that and love him very much. My Dad has been such a help to me the last few years. Together, we single-handedly sawed, measured, and laid miles (it seems) of baseboards to accentuate my new tile floors. He’s also cut my yard weekly—we call him “Paco” when he does yardwork, and he takes care of my kids, who seem to be living over at his house these days. He’s a great guy and I understand now why he made some of the decisions in the past, so it’s all good. He doesn’t owe me anything, but he gives and gives and gives. I love my Dad.
Factoid #8: For the life of me, I don’t understand, nor care to understand, Tori Amos. I understand she was raped once and that fueled many albums, but I just don’t get the “I was a victim once and I’m going to take out my revenge on all men everywhere”. And one CD she was wrapped in a snake and in a hillbilly shack or something. DON’T GET THAT!
Okay, now you know some pretty weird things about your favorite Russian blogger. I am tagging Ken, Mia, XOLondon, and Chartrigger. I'm curious to see what you guys come up with. :)
















