March 22, 2012

Friday Fluff

OMG. How can one person make 12 answers so freaking long? I would wish I were less wordy (you should see how many words I cut out) but then I wouldn’t be me. And what have I told me about wishing away my quirks? Then there would be nothing left of me.

Okay so this week Seeking Elevation suggested we each choose our own quiz to mash. This survey, 12 Out Of The Blue Questions from was written by sexxiileanne. (Really? Really!?)

You may select your favourite quiz here, give it the best you’ve got and link’er up over at Seeking Elevation. But do it quickly. “They” don’t call it "Friday Fluff" for nothing.

Hav you ever tried champagne?
Yes. Not only that, I have slurped real live champagne on more than one occasion. Hong Kong 1997 was an especially good season for it.

I believe Champagne is overrated. I'll take Prosecco for $20 any day.

Hav you ever been to a party wen someone rented a stripper?
Nope. But I would probably want to ask socio-political questions of the stripper person, which might put an intellectual damper on the whole affair.

Are you a good dancer?
If by dancer you mean on-stage hoofer then no. When I wanted to learn to dance as a kid, my mother signed me up with the most geographically close teacher for ... you guessed it. Highland dance. I can dance a mean Sword Dance, but my high-kicks and butt shakes leave much to be desired.

If by dancer you mean at weddings and in nightclubs, I can certainly bust an ‘80s-style  move or three. I once bought the C&C Music Factory music VHS video (only video I ever bought, music or otherwise) so that I could get my groove on at home. Suffice to say I practiced till my VHS machine broke down. Polka anyone?

If by dancer you mean stripper, then no, I would not make a good exotic dancer. Burlesque perhaps but peeler? I am likely to crack jokes or talk turkey about sex work, women, patriarchy and politics. And we all know how much men like joke-cracking, politic-spewing strippers.

Have you ever smoked a cigarette?
My first cigarette was the butt of someone else's JP Special I saved from a dance. It was gross.

I smoked it at the side of my house; I was maybe 15 and I was alone. Me being me, I inhaled very deeply to fully experience the nic-kick. Suddenly, and with hefty smoke searing what was left of my teenage lungs, I heard my mom's car as she came home from wherever she had been.

I freaked, killed the smoke, stood up and fell over. It was easily the worst head rush imaginable. I went to my bed and lay down and experienced my first ever bedspins. Sadly they were not my last.

The experience was so horrible, I never smoked again. Oh maybe a puff here or there to achieve that cool look, but I never took up the habit.

Have you ever done drugs?
Like pretty much everyone I’ve ever met, I've taken a toke of a joint, hot-knifed a bit of hash and swallowed a half tab of a pill of dubious content.

Pot did nothing for me and E made each hair on my head stand at attention in each and every follicle. I counted them. There were a lot.

Of the three, the only one I enjoyed to a degree was hot-knifing, but even then it was more because the ritual was so freaking funny and less because I got some buzz.

Hot-knifing, which I mentioned in a comment a week or so ago, is such a Canadian endeavour. Nobody else in my circle of drug-addled Hong Kong friends, be they Americans, British or Chinese, had even heard of it.

It makes sense really. I mean, who else but inhabitants of the Great White North would huddle around a stove, burners on high, their mom’s kitchen butter knives lying there red, hot and aglow, ready to sandwich a tiny nugget of black tar. The object is to inhale the thin stream of smoke that curls upward, hopefully toward madly-sucking nostrils or lips.

A theatre school party I once attended had partiers madly perfecting the art of the inhale: destroying plastic cups, pop bottles, cupping jazz hands, employing salad utensils and the long end of a turkey baster to better capture the smoke. It just got sillier and sillier. I don’t even think they needed the drugs, they were having so much fun.

Ultimately hot knifing ends badly. Many a sad mom has been left wondering what happened to her cutlery, how it came to be so ruined, so black.

What do you usually do at a party?
I, um, try to not talk politics, religion or weather, and spend most of my time trying to not freak myself out. I’m not a big fan of parties, obviously, though I go to them anyway.

What is the weather like where you live?
Last weekend it was sunny while it rained, got to near freezing temperatures, snowed for a while, hailed styrofoam-like drops and was generally overcast. Two days before we had a freak rainstorm with a blinding sun, which combined created a rainbow. Considering it was Saint Patrick’s day, I made a concerted effort to find the other end of the bow.

Now it is spring, and this morning there was frost on the neighbour’s roof and ice on the seat of my child's Little Tykes car. Something. Is. Wrong. Here.

Now you see why I try to not talk weather?

How often do you feel like someone is watching you?
When I'm in front of this video camera on my Mac, I feel watched more often than I’m comfortable admitting. I especially put a sticky note on the eye whilst hanging in my tub watching 30 Rock.

I also have a total of six skylights in my attic that occasionally make me wonder. Covering those up would take a lot of sticky notes.

Have you been on a speedboat?
I have. But I’ve never used speed. You know, just for the record. It would probably slow me right down, knowing my luck.

Have you ever been kicked out of school?
Nope. That would take some effort, and I was always too lazy to attract that kind of attention.

I was once kicked out of an asshole’s class for chewing gum. Grade 12 English Lit. He somehow discovered (my big mouth) that my sister was married to a guy who’s sister was not his favourite student. Swear to god. For the record, I wasn’t chewing gum.

On another occasion he kicked me out of class for removing my sweater. I did have a shirt underneath. You know, for the record.

Are you allergic to any type of food?
I'm food sensitive, but not allergic.

Have you ever had a one nightstand?
I have two nightstands, but I don’t like either of them. They are ugly. I should really get rid of them.

What is your gender?
I identify as cisgendered.

OMG this was so long. Aren’t you glad I didn’t choose the 60 question survey?


  1. I've totally hot knifed. College.

    Don't get rid of your nightstands.

    1. Wow. That's amazing, you were a traveler even before you traveled.

      I have to get rid of them. They were my grandmother's. They freaked me out.

  2. I've never even heard of hot knifing, and this one was awesome.
    I think I'd do the same thing if I went to a party where there were strippers. The best would be if there was a girl and a guy to compare answers!!!
    Mother Nature is on crack everywhere, not just where you live. She's angry, and she might be coming to get us. I can't blame her really.
    I had almond white sparkling wine (it was locally made, not France, so it couldn't be called champagne) at my wedding reception that was so yummy. It's my favorite.

    1. I totally want some of that wine. Yum. Sigh. I betcha your wedding was classy, and not with a k, either. Mine was held in a local bar. Klassy. K.

  3. Oh wow! OK, so ALL of my drug experiences are vicarious. I was such a 'good kid'. And yet I want to know all about it. If I'd had friends as a teen, I would have totally gone around taking notes. "OK, now what was that pill you just put in her drink... what? Yes you did. I totally saw it. What's the problem. Half of everybody is stoned and I just want to know what's good..." Yeah. I never had that conversation, but I can imagine it.

    I had to draw heavily on my parents as sources for my novel because there's a drug culture element that I just would never get right without source material.

    1. Ha ha ha ha! JQ we're almost two peas in a pod. Seriously, I have a drug post or two in me and mostly they are pretty much what you said above. Except my parents? Na ah. My mother was a grad student's wife at Stanford when T. Leary was doing acid tests on the faculty wives. The grad students' wives were asked to partake but she steered clear. My dad was equally as cautious.

      So most of what I write is from an observer's standpoint too. I like that about us. (That Lisa, though, she could likely tell stories. Especially about doing drugs Canuck style at a US college. Yeesh! That woman gets around.)

  4. I had to consult the Urban dictionary for "hot knife". The reason is, where I live the legal drugs (beer are so inexpensive, and no one even checks your ID, so why bother ruining perfectly good butter knives?
    You're right, Champagne is over-rated, but if you haven't had Sekt, you haven't tried sparkling wine. Prosecco is blah...

    1. A ha ha ha! I'll have to look for Sekt. I will still be prone to my precious Prosecco, if only because I can drink it without developing an instant headache. =)

      If you don't live in Canada, chances are that you won't be exposed to the hotknifing.