20 Questions - Part One - C'mon people...

Well perhaps I was a bit optimistic yesterday when I said that I would only choose 20 questions to answer. I was cock-sure that my inbox would be filled to the brim and nearly bursting at the seams with your inquiries about the glory and wonder that is me. Umm... maybe I have already given away all the goodies on this blog and lost your curiosity completely as my inbox is quite flaccid. I've only gotten 10 questions asked so far and one of you (Thanks Gwen!) asked two questions.

I'll start with Gwen's questions because not only did she devote a great deal of her post to me today and I'm a huge suck up, but also because it's a topic that causes great debate between me and my mom.

Gwen asks:

Are you particular about the direction your toilet paper goes on the roll? You know, the end of the paper on top of the roll vs. on the bottom of the roll?

Yes Gwen. As it happens I am quite particular about this. My mother thinks that the paper should go under, which is clearly insane. Have you ever been drunk and spinning and spinning that goddamned toilet paper roll all around trying to find the end until you're dizzy and ready to cry? Then you end up all angry, scratching and clawing at it like a wild animal? My mother is quite the lush so I'm puzzled that she continues to place the paper in the dispenser this way. She says the end of the roll is "unsightly". (Cu-koo!)

I am a firm believer that the toilet paper end should be prominently displayed for the next potential wiper and not hidden away like some secret treasure. It should go over. Go to any hotel worth a damn and you will find it displayed this way, sometimes in a tidy triangular fold. Some of the swankier hotels will even fold it in a festive and easily grasped fan shape. This pleases me greatly.

We don't argue about it anymore. She goes her way and I go mine, but secretly I know in my heart that I am correct because if the Four Seasons is doin' it my way, then it cannot be wrong.

Gwen also asks:

How did you and YDH meet?

MDH (My Darling Husband) and I met on Match.com almost 9 years ago, before most people were calling themselves McLovin* or putting pictures of themselves on their profiles. You can read some of our correspondence during the early days of our budding romance here.

Speaking of pictures, Linka72 over at Stop Looking At My Screen. Nosy, a frequent commenter and very funny blogger, asks:

Have you ever taken a photo such as that for your husband (or any man for that matter)??..

I'll assume that you are asking if I've ever had a sexy-ish photo taken of myself in some kind of nudie, glamour shot type of situation and I'll start off with the short answer which is - not on purpose.

I normally don't give out a lot of information about things that occurred of a sexual nature before I met my husband, but I'll make an exception, because I promised I would. Here is the dirt:

Once upon a time when I was single and in the throes of a serious drought I deigned to go out with a man who was a total cheese ball. I gave him a break because he had a cool job as a photographer for a local newspaper and he started to look a lot more appealing after I let him get me shitfaced. Fast forward to what was probably only an hour or two later, in a whirlwind of desperation to get laid, I allowed this man to whisk me back to his place where we proceeded to make out on his sofa.

One thing lead to another, as can happen sometimes when an unattached young lady hasn't had even the slightest prospect of a high hard one for several months, and I found myself sobering up and nude in his bedroom. In the nick of time apparently, as we had broken ranks for a moment so that he could dig around for a condom - so there wasn't yet any penetration. I trotted hazily off to the bathroom to collect my thoughts and along the way discovered a hallway plastered with framed photographs of kittens.

Kittens in baskets, kittens in teacups, kittens wearing tiny straw hats and overalls. There were photographs of kittens all over the fuckin' place. It was a kitten decor from kitten hell. I thought maybe it was his idea of kitch, so I yelled out "Like kittens much?", to which he replied in a completely serious tone, "You know? I really do."

Needless to say, after some witless blathering about having to get up early the next morning, I started to high tail it out of there. I rushed back into the bedroom to scoop up my clothes and as I was doing that jumping dance, trying to get dressed and run away as quickly as possible at the same time, I bumped into something.

It was a tripod.

With a video camera on it.

The red light was blinking.

For all I know there is some horrifying video out there showing all of my pink giblets to the world, making out in the nude with some random shithead. I don't know. I don't care. I never looked back. I never returned his calls. The end.

Stay tuned for more of your burning questions answered (that is a clue for you Pistols). Meanwhile the comments box is open folks - let's see if we can't get to at least 21 questions asked - so that I will feel as though I have some options here. Humor me.

*A friend at work just joined and is continually disgusted by the overwhelming number of men using the handle "McLovin". If a McLovin sends her a message she automatically assumes a lack of personality and imagination and deletes it.