Y’all. It’s a British meme.

*I* was tagged in a BRITISH. MEME.

And this, right here, really says it all.

Let me go ahead and say thank you, Paula. I’m already obsessed with British accents. And now? Now this meme basically means I’m one step closer to being adopted into the Royal Family. It also means that Paula is one step closer to being drafted in the WNBA (let me explain: Paula said this when she tagged me – verbatim: “Jessica because she plays Basketball and I want to learn how (Is it too late?)”)

It’s never too late Paula. It’s never too late.

Now, I really doubt any of you remember my old meme things I used to do…my “awards” I was given by others (like this one where Tim answered for me…kind of…or this one – my personal fave…or this one that I’m not even sure *I* understand…).

Wow. Looking back at those…I’ve lost a lot of blog friends. I wonder where they went? Can somebody go let them know I still exist? Or that I’m sorry for something I am not even sure I did? Or that I think they’re awesome?

Anyway, in meme speak, “award” means loads (it’s a British!) of questions to answer.

And rules to follow.

You also may not recall that I struggle – mightily – to follow rules in the real world. At this point in Tim and my marriage, he understands that crosswalks are optional, as are the little men who tell me if I can walk or not (Tim calls them “paco.” As in: There is no paco, so no walk…o.” Actually, he doesn’t say the “walk…o” part…but he does call them paco…I digress).

I’m sorry, people. I just don’t wait around for a little man to tell me to walk. I’m pretty positive that at this point in my life I can successfully make that decision for myself. I mean, can he really SEE if any cars are coming? Does he really KNOW if his directions are ignored? Will he EVER figure out that sometimes…sometimes…he’s totally absent when the roads are deserted and instead that orange hand is blaring at everyone all, “NO.”

Why? Why wait for the phantom car that’s never coming?

Point is, I’ll be damned if I’m going to color inside the lines on the internets when I rarely do in my daily life. This blog is supposed to be an expression of myself, right? And the REAL ME sees rules as optional (even though…come to think of it, I don’t believe there ARE any rules to this meme…other than answering the questions. But there are social rules…err social expectations that the questions will be answered dutifully and honestly and accurately…)

Today’s barrage of questions came from something called the Guardian Weekend magazine.

I have no idea what that is.

Maybe it’s like a British version of Better Homes and Gardens. Or maybe it’s like the Guidepost half-magazine that is always in doctor’s offices.

Either way, let us see what happens, shall we?

Which living person do you most admire, and why?
Ron. From Harry Potter. He is one fit bloke (did I use that right, Paula? No? *sigh*). Everyone always says Harry. But I like Ron. And I’m not even entirely sure if this is a true statement…call it British influence. He looks more…British?

When were you happiest
When I realized I had been at the gym today for almost three hours…working out the entire time. I didn’t exactly realize it had been that long until I looked at the clock on my way out and thought, “No wonder I’m starving…and thirsty as a sonofabitch. I got here at 8:35 and it’s 11:20. Damn.” (I didn’t actually say “sonofbitch” but…that’s what it felt like, I’m pretty sure)

What was your most embarrassing moment?

Did you read this story? Or this one? Because they both rank right up there to a time when I wished I could have that invisibility cloak. Or a clown that came barging in with balloon animals. Or a floor made of quick sand. Or a secret wall trap door.

Aside from property, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought?
Um. Do cars count? I didn’t technically BUY them…I mean, I did… I was working at the time we bought both Tim and my car, so at least I was bringing in some kind of income…but my name is the name on the title on both cars. So, that’s asspensive. And what about vacations? I mean, we technically BUY vacations…go on vacation…buy a vacation…same thing. And, again, I didn’t purchase these vacations on my own…but since I’m married, what is Tim’s is mine and what’s mine is mine…so…Hawaii was expensive. So was Paris and London and Utah (before we moved to Colorado) and Wyoming (also before we lived out in “The West”). But, dollars to experiences…those trips were worth EVERY. LAST. CENT.

What is your most treasured possession?
Um. Life. Yes. Without life, there is nothing else. And that’s about as deep as it gets, folks.

Where would you like to live?

With Ron. In his house castle. OH…wait. Ron doesn’t have a castle, does he?…or a house for that matter, I don’t think. Didn’t the death eaters blow it up or something? Anyway, I RESIDE where I’d love to live. Colorado is the bees knees (It’s a British meme. I have to throw some British-speak in. It’s practically required)

What’s your favourite smell?

I feel like I am obligated to say the perfume I wear…but I don’t really smell it anymore? If you’re curious, it is by Coach (yes, as in purse) and to everyone else, smells divine. I’m immune, so I have no real dog in this hunt. As for other smells that I actually enjoy sniffing….honeysuckle during a run in the summer (OMG. Heaven. Whenever Tim and I would run in the morning and would pass a bush or two and the smells would hit my olfactory nerve, I’d yell, “HOOONNNEEYYSUCKKLLLEEEE!” And by “morning” I mean around 4am. I’m so courteous.)

Who would play you in the film of your life?

I’d probably play myself. I mean, who could be ME? Exactly. OMG. The other weekend when we went to get our hair cut, our hair person, Jen, was all, “You look like Kate Middleton!” So, maybe Kate should play the British version of me. At least she’d get the slang right. And I’d be a princess. And I’d get to live in the castle.

For the record, I looked at Jen all, “Really? It’s because my hair is dark, right? It’s the hair…” Because I don’t look like Kate…or a princess AT. ALL. She was having delusions, I’m pretty positive.

What is your favourite book?

Um. Harry Potter. Remember Ron? He’s my hero! Actually, I DO like Harry Potter. I just puked my way through my first Stephen King novel-and-a-half, Under the Dome. Once I got past the shooting people’s heads off and blood spattering against the wall in an arching formation and exposed brains looking like what someone ate for breakfast that morning, it wasn’t too bad. I also liked Born to Run – great book whether you run or not. And the entire million-part series from Terry Brooks…Tim had all of his books. So I read. All of his books.

What is your most unappealing habit?

I’m looking out for me than I’ll ever be for you. It’s a dog-eat-everything world and I’ll be damned if you get the last biscuit.

What would be your fancy dress costume of choice?

Ok…this is past my limited British knowledge. Break for a moment while I decide what this means, exactly.

(I mean…costume like…Halloween?…That cannot be right…)

(Fancy = desire according to my British dictionary. So is that the same here?… A desired dress costume?)

(Dammit! Mac! WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH RIGHT CLICK AND A MENU OF CHOICES INCLUDING “COPY” ??!!@@@?$ Nooooo….it’s command + shift + 4. And WTF? 4?)

Wow.

It IS like Halloween?

Um. I’m feeling lucky, google?

And to all you people looking for fancy dress costumes starting with v…well, let’s just say they’re probably not in bangalore.

A sex kitten? Or rainbow bright. OR maybe a flower child…a sexy flower child…yes…

A flower child like this:

What is your earliest memory?

For serious? Hawaii. In a grocery store with REALLY SHORT shelves on either side. I was in a stroller, obviously. I was not even a year old. However, that memory – and the one with someone holding me up in the air inside a house in Hawaii – have been validated by those who were old enough to retain functional memories at the time. Other than that…I have a lot of memories…but I have no idea which is earliest…none earlier than that one. I mean, if I had a burned-in image of a masked doctor yanking me from my mother’s stomach (I was an emergency cesarean), then…I’d probably be a genius. Or an alien. One of those.

What is your guiltiest pleasure?

Turning on iTunes, blasting a song and belting it out. Small, minor detail: my singing is piss poor/rubbish/bloody awful.

What do you owe your parents?
A timeout, I think.

To whom would you most like to say sorry, and why?

To me. For being such as asshat.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

Um. If I didn’t marry him, then I probably definitely gave the wrong answer way back when I was asked that life altering question. The good news? We’re still married.

What does love feel like?

Everything. IF you love someone, then you’ll run the gambit of emotions – sometimes on a daily basis. This is why I’m certain I’m not meant for Ron. I’m never angry at Ron.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

Um. I have no idea. It was your fault.

What is the worst job you’ve done?

As in when I really sucked and made a bloody mess of something or as in the actual job? The worst actual job…I don’t even remember what my title was…but I helped in a veterinarian’s office. In the beginning, I was all, “Puppies! Kittens! Let me fix your boo-boo…”

Then I came back to reality.

I did lots of laundry (read: washed bloody, puke-filled towels) and swept the floor and cleaned out poo filled dog runs and had to “hold” a cat the vet put down. Feeling the poor thing go limp in my hands…I felt like an accomplice to murder. And they made me “bag and tag” this giant black dog who had just been euthanized… *shudder*

If you could edit your past, what would you change?

Lots. Which is why I should probably apologize to myself for being so critical…on me. I would have tried harder…gone to grad school (for what…I still don’t know). I would have made better decisions and not stayed in a relationship for almost my entire time at college.

And what Tim likes to say to all of this is: But then we wouldn’t have met.

BUT.

If we were “meant to be” then…wouldn’t it have BEEN?

I still don’t know that answer…but it doesn’t help me wish I had done X instead of Q.

What is the closest you’ve come to death?

I choked on a piece of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. My dad kept yelling at me all, “BREATHE!” And I just say there like, “I can’t, dumbass.” My mom rushed over from the sink, where she was doing dishes, and rescued me. Then I choked on a combo of juice + cupcake at school. I was trying to be funny.

Guess that damned cupcake got the last laugh.

The Assistant P.E. teacher saved me that time. I ran over to the teacher’s lunch table and tapped my teacher on the shoulder, looking at her with my eyes bugging out all, “HALP!” She just stared up at me from her seat like, “WTF? Did I learn this in school?” The P.E. teacher took action faster than my teacher, Mrs. Luttrell, could say CPR.

For the rest of my years in elementary school, any time the P.E teacher would see me she would ask, “Eat anymore cupcakes lately?”

Irony: cupcakes have become my most favorite dessert in the entire universe.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

GREATEST? Hm. Graduating college in three years? Getting married? Playing college basketball and earning All American status? Writing this blog every week?

When did you last cry, and why?

I actually don’t remember. I’m sure it was last week or the week before? I don’t like anyone to see me cry, so it’s not like I can ask someone to help me recall the last eye flood…

How do you relax?

Working out. Sleeping…ooohhh how do I LOVE my sleep…sitting outside on a pretty day…staring at the mountains…

What single thing would improve the quality of your life?

Feeling important and needed. This mostly means with a career I don’t have and money I do not currently make. As most of you know, I want to BE SOMEBODY!

What is the most important lesson life has taught you?

Patience bites you in the ass every time.

Or, the lack of, really.

Wait…the questions are over?

Well, bugger all.

Cheerio, then, old chap! Cheerio!