After I graduated from Rutgers, I got a job waiting tables at Friday’s , while I lived at my parents’ house and saved up for the big move to San Francisco.
1. Yes, I had to wear flair in the form of buttons on my red suspenders. The minimum number allowed was 7, but I definitely had way more than that because I was ridiculously into my flair. Oh, yes.
Flair also meant having to wear a hat, but not a baseball cap. I had a tiara, a Peter Pan-style elf cap, a pioneer lady’s bonnet, a clown hat, and a wool flat cap.
2. I had a big crush on one of the bartenders. A bunch of the staff went to a flair competition in which he was competing. (In this case, flair refers to the practice of throwing and flipping bottles around.) At this competition, I wore my foxy blue velvet plunging neckline shirt and made my (successful) play for bartender boy. The shirt became known as the “nookie shirt” among the waitresses and was passed around to share in times of need.
3. If I wasn’t having enough fun doing the clapping-chanting-cheers for someone’s birthday, I’d address all of my tables with an Irish accent and tell them I was an au pair from Galway.
1. Despite believing that I had magic powers of verbosity, I did significantly better on the math section of every standardized test I ever took.
2. When I started college, my declared major was journalism. Then I switched to pre-med. Then I flunked out! But they let me back in after some summer schooling. And I finished with degrees in Psychology and Public Health.
3. I have no compulsion to pursue an advanced degree, despite coming from two PhD parentals. The idea of volunteering for years of *homework* makes me shudder and phbbbt.
1. I was 13 when I had my first kiss. It was at a dance during summer camp. His name was Matt. After summer camp was over, we had a brief period of exchanged letters. In one of these, he sent me a drawing he had done especially for me of The Predator.
2. High school was a time for much unrequited love. I didn’t go to prom (though I desperately wanted to) and except for item #1, there was no kissing. Perhaps one day I will scan and post some pictures from this era to help illustrate the teenage woes.
3. In the beginning times of The David, there was an afternoon when we were talking about how we felt about one another. We were both dancing around saying “I love you” for the first time, so instead I told him that he gave me a welling in my heart. Ever since, “having a welling” has been one of our things.
1. My great-great-grandfather Giuseppi fell off a donkey cart and died.
2. Grandpa Joe, on my other side of the family, tried to raise chinchillas in the basement and they went rampant.
3. My nephew calls me Uncle Buggles.
1. I just tried to use the word kniving in a sentence. It looked so weird that I started to doubt whether it was even a real word. Which, of course, it is – but only if you spell it conniving.
2. I had an opportunity to use the word conniving in an email to my boss type person today.
3. You’re more likely to hurt yourself with a dull knife than a sharp one.
Another week of Little Facts, brought to you by Rebecca with an R and the mental stylings of Maggie, this time circa 1988.
Once upon a time I could:
1. Walk on stilts.
2. Skin a deer.
3. Recite Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven in its entirety.
I’m still ruminating over my recent visit with the fam on the other side of the country, so am purging some ruminating here.
1. My mother is a fraternal twin. My brothers are fraternal twins. Since having fraternal twins is genetic and is passed down through daughters (boys always, um, eject multiple chances for babies. girls *usually* just release one egg at a time.) I have a high probability of having twins if I ever have kids.
2. I hate the theme song to NPR’s morning addition. When we were kids, the radio was always on in the kitchen while we were eating breakfast. For whatever reason, this was a high anxiety time in our household and I associate that annoying little trumpet tune with Angry-Dad yelling about Bus-Time!
3. Speaking of breakfast, we were only ever allowed to have Cheerios or Rice Krispies and I’m pretty certain that both are just gross on purpose. This is probably why breakfast time was so angsty; eating this flavorless cardboard cereal was like medieval torture. One time, my mother bought us Nerds cereal. Who knows why. It was a miracle. There was much fanfare and heathen dancing to thank our cereal gods. When the existing box of evil boring Cheerios was finally finished, we knew it was Nerds cereal time the next day. Except it turns out that one of the brothers had fallen ill. Pukey little kid ill. But he could not be deterred and partook in the sweet sugar and red dye with us. 5 minutes later, he went running to the bathroom to have some pukey little kid time, but didn’t make it and ralphed on our hideous, 70’s, gold shag carpet. There was a big pink stain on that carpet evermore.
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