So you know those moments, like back in middle school, where you act like a big drama queen to get attention? Yeah? Well, that was me last night.
I’m a terrible sleeper. I have been since I was a little girl. I would crawl out my bedroom window when I was four and go play in the yard naked until I got sleepy (back in the day before pedophiles, or fear thereof, roamed the earth). No, my mother didn’t know. I have immense difficulty falling asleep, and lord help me if I wake up—it’s all over for the night.
A few years ago, I discovered the powers of melatonin. If I go to bed, slip two melatonin tablets under my tongue and let them dissolve while I read a book, I’ll be asleep within a half an hour. It has totally changed my life.
The only problem arises when I am near the end of a really good book. Well, last night I was close to finishing “Pattern Recognition” by William Gibson (fascinating) and I stayed up too late reading it. When I went downstairs to get a new book, I unfortunately woke Charlie up. After a few benign noises about me turning off the light, he finally woke up enough to actually be irritated, and threatened to go downstairs. For some insane reason, I stormed out of bed, yelling, “No, I’ll go!” and slammed the door and stomped down the stairs naked.
I guess what I wanted was Charlie to come after me, so I grew more and more irritated as I could hear his snores shaking the floorboards upstairs (you knew what I was thinking, right? “You snore like that and I put up with it! What’s one little light?”). I stopped reading after a while and tried to sleep, but the couch blanket wasn’t quite big enough to cover both my shoulders and my toes. So then I watched some TV, including some really cheesy soft-core porn on HBO (give me hardcore any day over that crap). About two hours later, Charlie finally woke up and told me to come upstairs but I was too irritated, so we started yelling back and forth up and down the stairs. Yep.
I finally went up, and we both read for a few minutes, and when I turned out the light I crawled into his arms and burst into tears.
I better be PMSing, that’s all I can say.
So, more cool questions!
Name a TV or movie character you can relate to.
Hmmm… how about Lisa Simpson, and Abby from ER.
Do you have any phobias?
A couple of years ago Charlie and I toured some caverns and I was really, really uncomfortable being that far under the earth. I guess I’m a touch claustrophobic, and can’t stand the idea of a room without a window--and that’s why we splurged on the balcony room on the cruise! But anything else, heights, spiders, mice, rats, nothing bothers me.
What do you think about Birkenstocks?
I don’t think about Birkenstocks at all. The only thing I’ll say is that they are nowhere near as comfortable and they should be. What’s with the toes being higher than the heel?
What's your favorite book and why?
That is so tough to answer. I taught myself to read when I was five, and I grew up without a television, and I’ve been reading 3-5 books every week for most of my life. My favorite genre is fantasy, usually by women and featuring women characters (no, not a huge Tolkein fan, although I’ve read them all, and liked the movies). If there is magic, excellent—talking animals are an even bigger plus. I do try to read regular fiction with great regularity, though, and usually the book I’m into is my current favorite.
But if forced to choose, I would have to say my favorite book of all time is The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis. I know it’s a big old Christian metaphor, but gosh how I love that book—and Hollywood had so better not fuck it up. I dreamed once, many years ago, that I met Aslan (the Jesus/God character). I ran up to him and buried my face in his mane with my arms around his neck. I have never, ever felt so at peace and content in my life than I did at that moment in that dream—and that memory is the thing I cling to when I’m losing faith.
Best thing you cook and a recipe?
Christmas Dinner and a steak dinner over a campfire. Sorry, but I don’t use recipies.
South Park or the Simpsons?
Must one choose? I love them both, although since the Team America movie the bloom is off the South Park rose for me, so I guess I would have to say Simpsons. I have loved them since they were a crazy short on the original Tracy Ullman show.
How would you say your home is decorated? Is it modern/country/hippie-free spirit-ish?
It’s free-or-cheap-furniture-covered-with-cat-hair-ish. We have, for some psycho reason, a maroon velveteen couch (I know, I know—you should see what I have to do to get the cat hair off—it involves a weird squeegee thing and Febreeze). We also have a really good oriental rug we inherited from Charlie’s mom and is currently stained from cat puke (but I hear that increases the value). We have a nice comfy chair that I snagged from Barnes & Noble when I worked there, but it’s worn through. Coffee table I bought at a thrift store. A lovely two-tiered table I got from my grandparents. Get the picture?
I think CUNT is a perfectly acceptable curse, and I use it often myself. How many times have you said CUNT out loud today?
Not once, sadly.
What is your absolute all time favorite meal?
Dude, I’m a food addict. That’s like asking a junkie which ‘brand’ of heroin they like best. But… I love really good diner hot roast beef sandwiches with too much gravy.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I’m not sure, but it should be with animals. Dogs or horses, preferably.
Do you prefer milk chocolate or dark chocolate? Coffee or tea?
Milk chocolate, duh. I don’t drink either coffee or tea with any regularity, but I do love a nice cup of mint tea with honey now and then.
What's your favorite band? Favorite song?
That’s almost harder to answer than the book question. I’m totally into music (current fav cd—the Time-Life “Queens of Country” disc 2), so it’s hard to pick one. “Precious Things” by Tori Amos wins hands-down for best kick ass lyrics (I wanna kill those boys/those Christian boys/so you can make me cum/that doesn’t make you Jesus). “Blackbird” by the Beatles for best melody. “Ode to Joy” by Beethoven for best choral piece for listening to, and “The Hallelujah Chorus” by Handel for the best choral piece to sing. “It’s Raining Men” by the Weathergirls is my favorite song to dance to. “Puff the Magic Dragon” by Peter, Paul and Mary cause it makes me cry. “Arms of the Angels” by Sarah McLachlan cause it came out after my friend Web killed himself and makes me think of him. “Abiyoyo” by Pete Seeger just cause. “Why” by Annie Lenox cause it’s our song.
But probably, my absolute favorite song would have to be “Cecily’s Song” that my mother wrote for me when I was little, back when she was a coffee house folk singer. I don’t really remember it, it’s been so long, but I know it was written just for me with nothing but love. So it’s the best.
Probably Beatles for a band. I mean, who else could it be?
Will you get a tattoo in honor of the boys, or does memorial art go against your sensitivities?
I’m not much of a believer in ever putting names in tattoos, but children are permitted (never, ever a boyfriend or girlfriend, seriously, people). I was thinking about just getting a little “N & Z” somewhere next time I got something, but then Sarah said I should also get a daffodil, and that made me cry, so now I think I have to.
If money weren't an object, where would you go for vacation?
New Zealand.
Are you a vegetarian?
You may have guessed this already, but no. I was once for
two years, but I realized that I loved meat so much that if it weren’t readily
available in stores I’d probably hunt it. So I figured I wasn’t being a hypocrite
(except for the whole I-have-pets-and-love-them-and-wouldn’t-eat-them-even-though-
they’re-animals thing).
How exactly do you pronounce your name? My lurker friend says "SISS-ily" and I say "SESS-ily."
Sess-il-y. As in cesspool, then ill as in vomiting, and lee as in, oh, I don’t know.
What was your last drink and where?
On December 21, 1995, I had the first beer I’d had in a few months (other substances were much more important by then), and it was also the last. I don’t remember what kind, some microbrewery shit. It was in my house. Two hours later I was in the emergency room.
How many & please describe the porn-focused google hits have you gotten with all the mention of cunts & cocksuckers.
None. Nada. I’m so bummed. For a while there I was in the top fifty google hits for the word cunt.
But here are a few random porn-themed hits I found today:
“Tattooed Whores” yes!
“Fucking Nicolette Sheridan”
“I am feeling to fuck girls pictures” huh?
And then there is a whole bunch from some poor person who wants to fuck his mother. I do not know why he was linked to my site nine times. Possibly because I use the word ‘motherfucker’ a tad too often.
What one thing can your cats do tempt you to give them away, and what's the one thing they can do to melt your heart and make you change your mind?
When Frank (the 18 year old that won’t die) pees when he feels we’re ignoring him—on bookcases, on walls, into electrical outlets—we wonder if he’s old enough to put down even though he's healthy. When Dylan is shrieking at me for no apparent reason, I wish Sarah would take him back. When Annie pees on the dog bed, I…well, I’d never get rid of Annie no matter what.
Watching Spot drink—either from the dog bowl via her paw, or from the bathtub faucet—I just want to squeeze her (sadly, she hollers bloody murder if you lay a finger on her). Annie was bottle raised, so instead of purring and kneading, she bites our fingers—cute as hell until it hurts, since she’s now nine. Fifi when you scratch her back and she sticks her tongue out is just too cute. Dylan when he lying on the floor, flat on his back, is adorable. Frank never does any thing appealing, I swear to God. But when he was younger, he once caught a hawk.
