Ague and goiters and boils, oh my.

One thing I knew about walking pneumonia:

• You can sing it to the tune of “Waltzing Mathilda.” Similarly, “diverticulitis” scans beautifully to “Gary, Indiana” from The Music Man.

Two things I didn’t know about walking pneumonia:

• It is not merely a vernacular reference to an undefined group of diseases; it is in fact a generally accepted name for a specific atypical pneumococcal virus.
• I have it.

Which gives me medically-sanctioned and spousally-enforced time to rest, recover and ponder other things, like: what about all those other folksy disease names? The ones from Chaucer through Shakespeare and well into Wodehouse, a vast array with which I am casually acquainted but not intimately familiar? “Chilblains,” said the husband, and I replied, “Frostbite… maybe? Hmmm.”

Memed! Anonymously memed!

Well, I know who memed me, but I can’t tell ya. State secrets, national security… you know, the usual. Being this important is hell sometimes.

Here goes:

1. I can’t believe I’ve never been to London. Seriously, it’s amazing, considering that I have practically 400 years of British history memorized (the juicy bits, anyway) and have no trouble understanding any dialect even remotely like English. Damn. This sucks.

2. Every time I think about the night I got so drunk that I woke up on a couch next to someone who had been hitting on me and had to check to see if my tights were still on I still cringe. Fortunately, they were, and there was no way in hell I could have gotten them back on in the previous night’s state of intoxication. Not that I would have minded sleeping with him, really, but I would have minded missing the fun. Wait, I might have been engaged at the time. Oh well.

3. I wish I’d met Lyle Lovett when I had the chance.

4. I have never felt so out of place as when I was a bridesmaid at my best college friend’s wedding. Not only was I the only non-Christian among the wedding party, I may well have been the only non-virgin. And thank whoever is up there for that, because I was able to render an educational service involving a banana to my beloved friend that none of her more saintly companions could have. Just goes to show you, every good girl needs a go-to whore on the roster.

5. Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls are my guiltiest pleasure. I don’t have food issues, you know, the “bad food” crap, it’s just that Swiss Cake Rolls have no redeeming value whatsoever. They are the trailer trash of pastry: sickeningly sweet cheap chocolate coating over a usually stale chocolate cake wrapped around some unidentifiable white semi-solid sugar product. And they rock my fucking world. We can’t even have them in the house or I’ll eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

6. I hope my mother knows how grateful I am for her letting me make my own mistakes while always being there for backup. Although I wish she’d given me a heads-up about the batshit bipolar guy from California.

7. In my darkest hours, I secretly blame my screwy neurochemistry for my dysfunction. Actually there’s no secret about it. As far as dumb things I’ve done in my life or bad choices, that’s a hundred percent me – and that’s no secret either.

8. Being really, truly on my own and broke as hell changed my life forever. I can’t say it was completely a conscious decision, but partly, and it gave me time to figure a lot of things out – like what I wanted to do with my life, my vocation, my values, my bad habits, and the list goes on and on. It was time to just live for a while with no expectations. I highly recommend it.

Whew.

I’m tagging Lorelei, Banshee and Polly. Because I lurv them.

Silly girly game! I love silly girly games!

From Lorelei:

Google “(Your name) likes to” and see what comes up. Make sure to use quotes so you get strings… here are my first ten or so.

1. Ann likes to play with herself. *ahem* (this came up about fifteen times; it’s in some song)
2. Ann likes red.
3. Ann likes to dance.
4. Ann likes to draw upon her own personal experiences.
5. Ann likes to party.
6. Ann likes to ride bikes and her hobby is sewing.
7. Ann likes to dream about Heaven on Earth.
8. Ann likes to spend time with her family and friends.
9. Ann likes to be needed, as well as to cherish and protect her loved ones, of whom she is somewhat possessive.
10. Ann likes to hunt for raccoons.
11. Ann likes to meet her subjects personally.

At least seven of these are right on the money, especially the raccoon hunting – mmmm, stewed raccoon.

Prizes, prizes, prizes

For Mr. Smarty Pants:

and a mix CD (yes, I’m that dorky): Ultra-Craggy Outlaw Country Singers of My Childhood: Willie, Waylon, Kris and Johnny.

A special edition of this CD will be sent to The Most Dedicated Contestant, my Aunt Zerlene, who updated her entry twice, no, maybe three times? Anyway, it was impressive.

For The Most Vehement Protester on the Subject of Jeremy Brett, Polly: Boo Hoo 1 and Boo Hoo 2, Euphrosyne’s favorite songs of lost love, self-pity, and general moaning.

And of course, the CDs I still owe Texasgurl will be posted post-haste, really, no really, if she will kindly send me her address once again.

 

All right, girls: the winner is…

… a guy.

One of two guys who entered. The other one, although a good sport for playing, totally crapped out. I know. I’m in shock, too.

So, Alan – you win. Congratulations. Since part of the prize is a rather girly piece of jewelry, I can either substitute something else or send it along for your spouse…

I’m very happy that so many played – a total of 17 entries, which is probably almost as many readers as this blog actually has.

Apparently, Waylon Jennings and Sean Bean were the least recognized, with a small but vocal minority (Mom and Polly) protesting that Jeremy Brett’s picture looked nothing like his most famous character, Sherlock Holmes. Aaryn guessed Eddie Rabbitt for #1, which I thought was pretty good, really – right era, right genre, wrong bearded guy.

Tomorrow I’ll post prize pictures; including the consolation offerings.

The answers… revealed

Before I rush off to tabulate the entries and declare the winner (although I’m pretty sure who that will be), here are the names you’ve all been waiting breathlessly for. Wait, breathe first. Okay, now read.

1. Waylon Jennings, at the height of his craggy sexiness. (Hmmm. Crexiness? Not sagginess – that comes later.)
2. Gabriel Byrne.
3. Alan Rickman.
4. Peter Falk. That’s right, damn it, Peter Falk. Stop laughing, Polly. (I never knew that ol’ Sweatypalms had auditioned for Columbo, but it made me giggle to hear it. I only spent one school year within his icky range of influence, after all.)
5. Jeremy Brett, the best Sherlock Holmes ever, and also Audrey Hepburn’s smitten follower in My Fair Lady.
6. Robert (quiver) Mitchum.
7. Sam Elliott.
8. Sean Bean, or as I like to call him, Beanie Meanie, since he always plays villains.
9. Ciaran Hinds.
10. JEREMY IRONS, Mom. For the love of all things craggy, Jeremy Irons.

Okay, off to count.

The Craggy Files: Let’s play a game, shall we? With a prize!

LAST CHANCE! Cut-off time is 2:00 pm CST today – that’s right, Mom.

This time, I have an actual prize all ready to go. Here are pictures, in no particular order, of my favorite Craggy Secret Boyfriends. Identify them, send your answers to amivins at yahoo dot com, and the first one in with all the most right names wins! Because frankly, this blog has been a major bummer lately, and I think it’s time to lighten things up.

Everyone is eligible: relatives, friends, casual browsers, crazy stalkers… go for it.

Here we go!

1. 2.

3. 4.

5. 6.

7. 8.

9. 10.

My God, the cragginess.

Hints

• Only numbers 1, 5 and 6 are dead. This is a pretty good percentage for Mrs. Euphrosyne.
• Number 1 was a singer.
• Number 5 should be fairly elementary.

Update

• Ten entries so far; the current leaders are one of my aunts and some dude. No one has them all yet… go! Go!

My Personal DNA?

So according to Lorelei’s latest personality test find, I am a generous inventor. Hmm.

Secret boyfriends

Blame Texasgurl.

#1 I’ve already done the Jeremy Irons paean of praise, but here’s another picture.

Either/Or: relatively innocuous version

For the night, for the day, for the rest of your life… whatever. Pick one!

On a positive note:

1. Peach cobbler or chocolate cake?
2. Vivaldi or Mozart?
3. Bette Davis or Joan Crawford?
4. Strappy rhinestone-studded sandals or glove leather knee-high boots?
5. Heavy silk satin sheets or a double-thick cashmere blanket?
6. Rose gardens or wildflower meadows?
7. 80’s pop or 90’s pop?
8. Christmas or Halloween?
9. Gold or silver?
10. Champagne or whiskey?

The darker side (and this is forever, and death is not an option):

1. Married to Donald Trump or to the Sultan of Brunei?
2. Extraordinarily clumsy: physically or socially?
3. Dump or be dumped?
4. Extra toe or third nipple?
5. Projectile vomiting or explosive diarrhea?
6. Agoraphobia or claustrophobia?
7. Tongue kiss: Ron Jeremy or Paris Hilton?
8. Cockroach in your pants or wasp in your hair?
9. Stale popcorn or flat soda?
10. Doubleknit 70’s polyester lounge suit or… or… I can’t think of something equally awful.

Oops, forgot my own answers!

cobbler, Vivaldi, Bette (my hero), boots, cashmere, rose gardens, 90’s, Christmas (because we get to dress up anyway), gold, champagne (can’t even stand the smell of whiskey)

anyone but Trump, physically, dump, nip (would not interfere with shoe shopping), vomiting, claustrophobia (already have a bit of the other), Ron (I suspect he’s actually cleaner than Paris), WASP, popcorn, and there is no excuse for primitive polyester