Without further ado:
- If you could change one thing about yourself (physically or emotionally), what would it be?
Allow me to explain. I have...eyebrow issues. Remember this? I was, for a time, Acting President of the United States of Unibrow. Granted, I've rectified the situation since then, but it's be nice if the brows didn't require quite so much upkeep. I've often thought about what I'd do if I was on Survivor (a show I don't even watch, mind you), and just how I'd smuggle a set of tweezers onto the island. And so, the answer to this question is: "To have effortlessly perfect eyebrows that, when left untweezed, do not grow to resemble the thatch of muppet fur resting atop Bert's forehead."
2. Jelly Bellies or Twizzlers? Why?
A most excellent question. The answer here would have to be Jelly Bellies, for many reasons. First and foremost, the variety of flavors is, quite frankly, mind boggling. I’ve never tried one I haven’t liked, but then again, I even like black jelly beans, so that’s probably not all that surprising. Jelly Bellies are also wee, so you don’t feel as if you’re consuming a metric ton of sugar. Even though, you know…you are. And what of the adorable “recipe” cards they used to have in the boxes? You know, where they would tell you to take one vanilla ice cream bean and two caramel beans and then you’d have crème brulèe, or something? (Note: I just did some research to make sure that I didn’t completely imagine that recipe card thing, and it turns out that this childhood memory is, in fact, accurate. Though I may have made up those flavors.)
The funny thing is, despite my love of pretty much all foods (including the aforementioned black jelly beans. And root beer. Oh, and Brussels sprouts. And...well, you get the idea. The idea being that I like some unpopular shit.), I really don’t like Twizzlers. They just taste starchy and weird to me. I’m fairly certain, however, that my issues with Twizzlers stem from the fact that, as a kid, whenever my friends and I ate them, we would bite off the top and bottom and USE THE TWIZZLER AS A STRAW FOR OUR SODA. Say it with me now: *Hurl* I don’t know why we did this; only that we did, and in retrospect, it is incomprehensibly vile.
Note: My dislike of Twizzlers does not extend to licorice…string things (what are they called?); I like those bad boys.
3. How many children would you like to have?
There are moments where I’m with Toops and think to myself, “Sure! I could handle doing this again right now!” And then there are the moments, the scary fever moments, the “screw-you-guys-I’m-not-napping-EVAH!” moments, the projectile poo moments (thankfully long past), where I really feel the full weight of being a mom. As each day passes, though, and T becomes less and less of a baby, and more of a little boy, I’m equal parts incredibly thrilled at his progress, and at the same time strangely wistful that I don’t have a “real” baby anymore. And it’s times like that make me realize just how much I love the adventure (and it is an adventure) of being his mom. And that is my long-winded way of saying that I would love to do it again. I come from a family of three kids, and always thought that was a good amount.
4. If you could live anywhere in the US, where would it be?
J and I talk all the time about where we want to live when we “grow up.”
Note to self: Pssst! DUDE. Wake up. You’re nearing 27, you’re married with a child, have a job, and own an apartment. I think you’re considered a “grown up.”
Ahem. Just ignore them. Anyway, what I mean to say is that we talk about where we want to live when we’re ready to buy a house. If we could live anywhere in the
I know, I know; so boring, right? But think of the hobos! They need me! They’d be lost without me! I’m doing it for them, really.
5. Would you rather drink wine or martinis for the rest of your life?
This was a TOUGH one! At first I was thinking that my answer would be wine, because how would it work, exactly, if we were going over to some friends for dinner, and I’d chosen martinis for the rest of my life? Ordinarily I’d bring wine, but under this new mandate, I’d be forced to say, “Here, guys! I brought you some…martinis!” Which is really cumbersome, in terms of lugging the various ingredients with you, not to mention the shaker and glasses, and hi, I have a tendency to over-think things a bit. Gah. Potential dinner party faux pas aside, I’d say martinis, only because you have more variety. (I can pick different types, right? It’s not just a straight-up martini?) Also, if I’m drinking one of them for the rest of my life, a martini looks much more bad ass than a glass of wine, don’t you think? And if you know anything about me, I’m all about the badassery.
Want to play, too? I've always fancied myself a young, female, non-curmudgeonly Andy Rooney. (Or at the very least, marginally more talented than that annoying Extra! "correspondent" who always shows up on America's Next Top Model with an inflated sense of her own relevance.) Here's how it works:
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.