I've Been Tagged!

For the first time in my young blogging career, I've had someone sneak up on me and hang one of those tags on my ear. That means I am obliged to write what is known in Blogville as a "meme".

Don't ask me what that word means... because I have no idea. This is what I found using the online dictionary:

meme (meem) A cultural item that is transmitted by repetition in a manner analogous to the biological transmission of genes.

meme (mēm) A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another.

The honorable person who tagged me to do this meme (and help me out in my NaBloPoMo-quest), is a blogger who is known for bringing home 95(!) books from the library. And, if ever you visit (which you really should) her blog, that will explain in part where she gets all of her weird, strange, funny and Odd Facts from.

Visit Odd Facts for some fun and strange... facts!

There are rules associated with a meme, I've found as well. And the rules for the one that I've been tagged with are as follows:

• Provide a link to the person who tagged you, and spell out the rules of the meme on your blog.


• Share 7 (seven) random and/or weird facts about yourself. (I believe this is the part that constitutes an actual meme)


• Tag 7 (seven) random bloggers with this meme and post links to their blogs at the end of this post. (Free advertisement, and for some - a pain in the butt... from what I hear)


• Let those who have been tagged know so by leaving a comment on their blog, and telling them where to find information regarding the meme they are now obliged to do.

So, that puts a check-mark in front of the first rule for me. The part where I provide the link to my tagger, and where I write the rules.

Part 2: 7 (seven) Random and/or Weird Facts About Me:

Aaah... where do I begin?

One: I was born at night (but, it wasn't last night).

Two: I smoked my first cigarette when I was 5 years old. Me and a neighbor girl snuck outside and lit up. My sister (who's 14 years older than me) caught us in the act.

"What are you doing?", she says - trying to sound angry.

Me... I'm just a cool, relaxed 5 year old who doesn't know trouble if it slaps me in the face.

"Smokin'..."

Three: I wrote my first sci-fi/horror novel at the age of 10. It was a 34 page story called "Lizard Planet". It was about a guy named Carl, who built himself a spaceship and took a few friends with him to explore the vast universe. They came upon a planet where humans were dominated by intelligent lizards. Carl and his friends helped the humans on Lizard Planet fight a war against the evil lizards. They brought a dog with them, too - it's name was Andalusius. To this day - I have no idea where that name came from... hehe.

Four: I went to my first concert at the age of 13. It was the day after my birthday actually, and the ticket was my present. My mother was with me to witness the first ever unmasked Kiss tour - the "Lick It Up" tour. Helix opened for them, and ever since I was a huge Helix fan.

Gimme an "R" - AAHR!

"O" - OOH!

"C" - SEE!

"K" - 'KAY!

What you got? - ROCK!

And what you gonna do? - ROCK YOU!

Five: At the age of 17 I moved out on my own, to another city. I went to an acting school, and I had every intention of being the next big thing in Hollywood some day. I was going to write my own movies, produce my own movies, direct my own movies and star in my own movies. I had it all figured out by then!

Six: (The only random fact that will bear a more serious tone to it) At the age of 21 I suffered a mental breakdown - the result of a particularly ugly break-up with a girl I meant to spend the rest of my life with. My one and original true love, whom I had been deeply in love with since I was 13, and finally got to call 'my sweetheart' when we were 20.

It signalled the end of my true belief in becoming a Hollywood star, and during it all I tore up the 120 page manuscript for the best damn thing I ever wrote in my life - those were the days before computers were something that Average Joe had access to, so sheets of paper were worth their weight in gold.

Seven: I named my blog "Ramblings of a Madman", after a diary I kept a few years back, which for my own amusement was called "Diary of a Madman". Diary didn't feel like a good name for a blog, unless I intended to post daily. Ramblings was much better, because I figured I'd use this space to rant and ramble on about anything at all that troubles or amuses me.

So!

There are 7 (seven) facts you didn't know about me. And that allows me to check rule #2 off the list.

Part 3: Tagging 7 bloggers with this meme:

I tag thee who are listed below:
Angela at ~angelaboration~
Beautifully Profound at Beautifully Profound
Butterfly Girl at Butterfly Girl
G-Man at Man Overboard!
Newt at Newt's Muse
Karen at Smiling Through It All
Samantha K at Sports, Soaps, And A Wandering Mind

Hope you all don't mind me layin' this burden upon your shoulders ;)

And that takes care of check-mark numero three. In order to cross the last rule off the list and fulfill my obligation to this meme, I will now log onto the above blogs and let them know what I have done to them.

Here I come a-taggin'!

Airplane Incident

Did you ever make a damn fool out of yourself?

Oh, I know we've all made ourselves look stupid every once in a while, but did you ever do it extravagantly and simply have no place to hide from it for the next 8 hours or so? Make a complete jackass out of yourself and have to remain seated right next to the stranger you so delicately introduced yourself to early on during an eight hour flight?

Well, I did.

Let me tell you about it... just to entertain. Please don't think less of me after you have read this... I really am a good person - and I did not intend to do the things I ended up doing - my mind simply couldn't cope with the situation.

I got on the plane. I was only 17 at the time, and I was going on an eight hour flight all by myself to visit my father. It was, of course, very exiting for me to be making this long trip all on my own. I had a window seat, just like I had wanted, so I could look out at the clouds, and the terrain of our world when flying low enough to witness this beautiful sight. I had flown before, so I knew what it was all about - but, this was the first time I was on my own.

And - Bingo! A beautiful girl who's also alone takes her seat next to me. She's of course older than me - maybe in her mid to late 20's, but I'm a 17 year old horny young boy, and I am looking forward to having her sitting next to me.

Now... let's explain one thing to you. I was very shy around women back then. Talking to them would certainly require a lot of courage, and it took time building that courage up inside. Especially when they were as good looking as this one was.

We take off, and I have not yet said a word to her... possibly did say a quick "Hi" as she took her seat, but that would've been all. I am enjoying my window seat, however, looking out at all the sights early on in the flight, before we are engulfed in the whiteness of the clouds and there really isn't much to see anymore.

Then the stewardess shows up with her little cart, asking if we'd like some hot coffee or tea. You all know I'm addicted to coffee right?

"I'll have some coffee, please"

The girl next to me orders coffee as well. Good sign, I'm thinking. She likes coffee too, that's a decent ice breaker right there.

I remain silent, continuously looking for the balls (no not those balls) to speak to her. And then, as the stewardess places the girl's plastic cup on her pull-out tray and pours her some steaming hot coffee, it is almost time for me to introduce myself to her...

The stewardess hands me an empty plastic cup as well, and I'm holding it out for her to fill it up. She does, and everything goes well... until I pull my arm back to set my cup down on my own tray.

That is when things went wrong. Oh, you've guessed it already, I suppose. I knocked her red hot cup of coffee over with my elbow, and all over her legs and crotch. This was some really hot coffee I'll tell you. I lose control of the muscles in my hand, and my own cup drops. It hits the side of her tray and that too splashes all over her.

She screams. It must hurt like hell!

My eyeballs widen in terror... what have I done???!!!

And... then I try to make things better... or do I try to make them go away? Either way... I shouldn't have done anything...

My hands shoot out from my body. I am not aware of this. Then they dive in between her thighs and start to brush rapidly at her jeans trying to make the hot coffee go away. In a state of panic I try to rub the coffee off of her, my mouth incoherently and repeatedly saying: "Oh, I'm so sorry. Oh, sorry. Didn't mean..."

And, then it hits me. Yes. Finally I come to realize what it is that I am doing to this good looking stranger of a girl. This girl who is in tremendous pain and shock after having two full cups of coffee spilled into her lap...

I have my hands in her crotch, and I'm rubbing at it like crazy...

I retract my hands with force, banging my elbow into my own pull-out tray hurting myself in the process.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry... Oh... Sorry!".

I quickly turned my head and looked outside at the beautiful whiteness. I wanted so badly to be somewhere else... in a void somewhere where no one could see me. My face was probably the same color as my blood.

The stewardess was helping the poor girl, giving her napkins and what not allowing the girl to clean herself up (as would have been a much better option indeed). Her pain had subsided I guess, as coffee quickly cools off when spread out in your lap I suppose, but I'm sure it still hurt badly. Second degree burns maybe?

Well, heck! We only had about 7 and a half hours to go before we landed right? I figured I'd just sit there staring out the window and ignore her the whole time.

After about two hours, I had worked up the courage to say I'm sorry... you know... in a respectable way. This whole time she had ignored me as well - listening to the radio with those earphones you get. She'd taken them off, having just returned from the toilet when I decided to speak up.

"I'm sorry about the coffee. Really I am"

She looked at me... still angry it seemed.

"That really hurt you know"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, you know. I'm sorry about... you know", and I motion with my hands as I cannot find a way to express my error of groping at her crotch.

"I don't want to talk about it, ok", she says and plugs her ears, going back to listening to music.

I have never before (and hopefully will never again) felt like such a jackass, and as I said - I had no place to hide. I had to sit there, right next to her... hoping my leg wouldn't brush up against hers, because she might read something into it - and you all know how spacey airplane seats are, right?

I turn to her again - today. Now that we both may be able to look at that incident differently.

Airplane Girl? You here?

I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for spilling our coffees in your lap. I didn't mean anything by rubbing the hot, wet area between your legs. I just wasn't thinking clearly, ok? So now that you know I'm not some pervert. Now that you know I am a decent human being... what do you say? Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me some time?