Once a year, every year since dinosaurs typed out blog posts with their wee flailing dinosaur hands on their gigantic Stone Age laptops, I do a Meme. Generally speaking, I do not like Memes. I do not think that my Pranksters give a fucking shit how I best like my coffee or what is in my purse right now. HOWEVER.
I am compulsive. And since I do this every year, I do this EVERY YEAR.
(As proof that I do not actually have a life, I offer this: 2010 here, 2009 here, 2008 here, 2007 here, 2006 here. I have 2005 somewhere in an email list, which is where I’d gotten this stupid meme in the first place)
1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?
I started a non-profit organization – Band Back Together. I also ate a cheeseburger but that sorta pales in comparison.
2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I wrote this last year, “I hope that 2011 will bring me less bullshit and more happiness. More orchids and less backstabbing. More writing and less email. More cowbell and less synthesizers. Clearly.
There’s always room for cowbell.”
The Universe laughs at your (read: my) plans, Meme. Haven’t we learned that by now?
So I’ll go with something that’ll never happen: “Total World Domination.”
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
If my timeline is to be believed, I’m pretty sure The Twitter was pregnant. All of it.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
Yes. My great-aunt Ruth and my (insert twice-removed twice-baked qualifier) cousin John.
5. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
A bathroom break where three children plus assorted cats did not hang on my legs while I peed.
6. What countries did you visit?
Bwahahahahaha! I have three kids, Meme. I’m lucky if I can take a shit without an audience.
7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why:
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Year after year, you insist upon asking me this, Meme, like I have some kind of knowledge of these “dates” and stuffs.
Ooooh. I did EAT some bacon wrapped dates. Those were fucking tasty.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I can use the microwave. WITHOUT causing small fires.
9. What was your biggest failure?
I still cannot use the coffee maker without causing small fires.
Also, I broke two teeth. That’s a pretty fat failure RIGHT THERE.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I broke two teeth, one of which had to be yanked from it’s socket. I’m 31 – no one should be losing fucking teeth. Also: The Daver lost his appendix in a haze of glory.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
The nitrous for my tooth extraction. Don’t give a shit if my insurance won’t cover it – I can’t go all balls to the wall, y’all when I’m getting shit yanked out of mah head.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Um, that Old Spice Guy? He’s pretty fucking full of the awesome.
Also: everyone who has had the balls to submit to Band Back Together.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Siri, that miserable slut, who did NOT find my pants for me.
14. Where did most of your money go?
See also: 1) I started a non-profit.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
There was a sale on Uncrustables. Also: I got nominated for a Bloggie this year, against all odds, which is a gigantor honor. I didn’t win, but seriously, that was huge. So did Band Back Together, and they actually WON. #fuckyeah
16. What song will always remind you of 2011?
Britney Spears – Criminal.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? You know, I keep expecting you to get more original each year, but no.
ii. thinner or fatter? Thinner.
iii. richer or poorer? That’s tacky, Meme.
Okay, Meme, let me take a stab at that:
i) more or less like Justin Beaver - less, obvs. Don’t have the kicky hairs.
ii) more or less likely to decide inanimate objects looked like boobs - more. Bring on the boobs.
iii) more or less likely to watch Glee – Less. That show has gotten depressingly bad.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Pranking The Internet.
Taking over the world.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
When you go into the dentist to have a tooth yanked out and they give you nitrous and you can actually feel the stress leaving your back and neck and suddenly you’re the least stressed you’ve been since you can remember, I’d say you have a problem. With not doing enough nitrous. Also: stress.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Let me be the 9238r23746 person to say, “Thank God it’s over.”
21. There was no #21. I don’t know why there was no 21.
I’ll make up my own question because I like to hear myself talk.
What’s up with your book, AB?
Well, I parted ways with my agent (my idea not theirs) and so far, the future is hazy, try back later. I may just be a blogger 4eva. And frankly? That’s not so fucking bad. I love what I do.
22. Did you fall in love in 2011?
If “with myself” is an answer, I’ll choose that one. If it’s not, I’ll go with yes, with my Keurig (no I did not get one for free or anything). Now I can make coffee without burning the house down.
23. How many one-night stands?
If you count making love to the Keurig, at least a dozen.
24. What was your favorite TV program?
Didn’t love Dexter this season, so I’m gonna go with watching reruns of NBC’s Life. Fucking shame that show got canceled.
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
26. What was the best book you read?
Pshaw. Like I have time to read books. We all know I’m
27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
That special song, “Pants on the Ground.”
28. What did you want and get?
30. What was your favorite film of this year?
I watched Precious. And was only mildly suicidal by the time it was over.
That sucked. I’m going to make up a new question:
Where are your pants?
Like I fucking know. Ask Siri. They’re probably on their way to Vegas with my sanity.
31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 31. And I have no earthly idea what I did this year. We’ll go with “pants off dance off”
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
“Holy shit, I have abs again.”
34. What kept you sane?
Um, I write a blog on The Internet where I call myself “Aunt Becky.” I haven’t been “sane” in years.
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
The ShamWow guy.
36. What political issue stirred you the most?
The great “Get up” or “get down” debate.
37. Who did you miss?
My sanity? Oh, you said “who.” Hrms. My pants? Wait. No. Um.
OH LOOK A BLUE CAR!
38. Who was the best new person you met?
You. You, mah Pranksters. Always you guys.
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:
Never underestimate the importance of a good set of sheets.
40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
(God, that seems so MySpace).
I just, I can’t. I’m sorry, Meme.
The rest of the meme says I should tag some people but, eh, I don’t tagging people. It makes me twitchy. Mostly because I’ll forget someone and then, then I’ll feel sad in the pants.
I’m tagging each of you. If I can do one Meme a year, SO CAN YOU, Pranksters. DO IT. It’s full of the awesome. JUST like 2012 is going to be. Even if I have to beat it into submission and make it my fucking bitch.
Happy Happy New Year, Pranksters.
I added a linky for you guys to add your posts, if you do this one! Why? Because obviously.
I’ve wanted one of those disco shower heads ever since SkyMall happily informed me that they exist.
Think about it. No longer would you have to take ORDINARY showers! You’d be able to rock out with your cock out (alternately: jam out with your clam out) as you got clean. If I owned one of those puppies, I’d make EVERYONE who came over take a shower. TOGETHER!
Okay, so maybe not together. Also: I should totally write ads.
Anyway, I was perusing the Think Geek website, looking for the perfect gift for someone now missing a vestigial organ. (one could argue that I could have been talking about my tooth, but as my tooth was not a proper organ, that is neither here nor there).
There it was. In all it’s shimmering glory. Red and blue LED Showerhead. On fucking sale.
Of course I bought it.
It arrived yesterday. I spent the afternoon fantasizing about the disco shower I was gonna take. I got my new iPod dock loaded with Britney Spears and prepared to get up with the get down (or is it get down, get down?).
That was, of course, until The Daver evilly thwarted my plans.
As we ate our dinner, he dropped the bomb on me:
Aunt Becky: “OMG. I’m SO gonna take a disco shower. I should invite The Twitter over for a disco shower with me!”
The Daver: (looks at the packaging)
Aunt Becky: “Did I tell you I’m planning Amelia’s birthday party? Maybe we can have it in the shower!”
The Daver: (keeps looking at the packaging)
Aunt Becky: “This is seriously the best day ever. I’m gonna invite my parents over to look at my shower!”
The Daver: “This showerhead doesn’t have a massage setting.”
Aunt Becky: “So? Neither does our current one.”
The Daver: “Yes, it does.”
Aunt Becky: “I’ve lived here for five years and you never bothered to mention that?”
The Daver: “I thought you knew.”
Aunt Becky: “…”
The Daver: “Apparently, you didn’t know.”
The Guy On My Couch Ben: “I knew that.”
The Daver: “See?”
Aunt Becky: “I take it I’m not getting my disco showerhead.”
The Daver: “….”
The Guy On My Couch Ben: “….”
Aunt Becky: “You guys all suck.”
My parents were hippies. You know this. I know this. The guy down the block prolly knows it to, but I’m not asking him because HELLO AWKWARD.
That explanation alone probably explains why they would give me a concoction called, “Coffee, milk, sugar,” starting at age two. I delighted in this drink. I remember sitting at the table, feeling ever-so-grown-up drinking coffee out of a coffee mug JUST LIKE THE OLD PEOPLE DID.
I don’t recall spazzing out and running around like an asshole afterward, but it’s possible.
For Ben’s first Christmas in this house, which had to be (scratches head)(counts on fingers)(stares at wall)(guesses), pushing five, six years ago, I lovingly selected a very tiny coffee mug for him. It was a cheap old thing, but it was so wee and so darling and so motherfucking adorable that I nearly ovulated all over the chick next to me at Crate and Barrel.
I’m not sure what exactly I was thinking he’d do with it. My son, while he is many things, is not an adventurous sort. Milk makes him weep, he doesn’t understand the concept of hot chocolate (until his siblings pointed out how rad it is, I might add). He’s a water-on-the-rocks kinda kid. I respect that.
My daughter, on the other hand, is extremely adventurous.
She also has an obsession with coffee. Normally, she’ll pop up next to me as I’m slurping down the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods, and very coyly ask to dip her binkie in the coffee. If Daver’s not around to bitch at me, I let her. Why the fuck not?* You’re only two once. And coffee? Well, coffee is FOREVER.
A couple of days ago, I realized the downfall to letting her dip-dip her binkie in my coffee is this: she’s infecting me with plague. (I wouldn’t put it past her to dip her binkie in my coffee for that very purpose.)
So I dragged out that wee, adorable cuppy that I’d bought for Ben so many years ago. I ovulated all over the kitchen as I put a splash of coffee, a heaping amount of sugar, and a liberal amount of milk into it.
“There,” I said. “Mimi’s coffee.”
I’ve never seen her grin so largely.
And proving once again that she is, in fact, my daughter, she downed that motherfucker.
Then asked for seconds.
Atta girl, Mimi.
*not actually asking WHY NOT? I’m sure it’s not fabulous for her and frankly? I’m not too worried about a teaspoon of coffee.