I've been infected!

Eeek! I've officially been infected. Getting infected is apparently a relatively common thing here in Blogland. So here's how it works. You get "infected" with a handful of questions which you must answer. (I know it sounds like a rather rigid code, but the laws of Blogland are fierce. Don't ask questions. Just do as you're told, human). In turn, you infect other bloggers and they have to answer the same set of questions. So I guess it's like when you played "Kiss Tag" in the sixth grade, but without all of the kissing (and - thank goodness - without all of the subsequent fear of catching herpes simplex 1).

I was infected by another marathon running and blogging friend Susan. If you have minute, check her out.

So here are the rules. "Write 5 random facts about yourself, and then list the names of 5 people whom you in turn infect. Also, leave a post to these people letting them know they have been infected." Here are the people I choose: Anne, Dawn, Alicia, Jen, and Jon.

Now on with the challenge. You know how much I love my OCD lists, so I was all over this. Rather than list random facts (since my blogging is completely random already) I thought I might make this more of a confessional. I just can't decide how much to actually share on my blog. Oh well, here goes. Keep in mind that all of these things are HUGE secrets that I've kept. Also keep in mind that I was raised incredibly religiously and sheltered, so in the grand scheme of things, most people do worse things on a Friday night.

1. I still own the first (and only) thing I ever stole from a store. Of all completely lame things, it was a bottle of Nutrogena foot lotion. I was fourteen years old, and I didn't have particularly dry feet, but I stole it to see what it felt like to steal. All my friends had stolen things, and they made it sound so cool. I must admit, stealing foot lotion is pretty darn uneventful. I still have the bottle (and the corresponding guilt), nearly two decades later. My intention has always been to return it to the drugstore where I stole it... but much to my disappointment, Pardekooper's Drugstore has been transformed into a hip and happening coffee house. So now I don't know what to do with the stinking lotion. Karma tells me to go to the coffee shop and just leave it at the scene of the crime. Perhaps...

2. When I was 13, I once pretended I was sick when staying at a friend's house so that I wouldn't have to go to church and I could stay at their house and watch MTV while everyone was gone. We didn't really watch much TV growing up, and since we lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, we CERTAINLY didn't have cable or MTV. I had heard all about MTV fromsome of my less religious friends, and I desperately wanted to experience it for myself. Well, in a nutshell, it was like this. The day I was introduced to MTV, there just happened to be a "Julie Brown Marathon" playing all day, which is complete crap. The only thing I can imagine which could possibly be more annoying is the MTV "Pauley Shore Marathon". Once again, my rebellion only brought disappointment.

3. When I was 12, my neighbor Connie was supposed to be watching me and... she snuck me into see "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom". Keep in mind, my religion was pretty much against all movies. Apparently, dark movie theaters lead to heavy petting. I don't know. Anyway, the only other movies I had seen up to this point in my life were "Bambi" and "Joni". In case you weren't one of the other 27 people who saw the movie "Joni", it's the story of a young girl who was paralyzed in a swimming accident. Her accident led to much spiritual struggle and questioning of her faith. Eventually, she and God eventually found middle ground when God told her to paint with her teeth, which made her famous. Well, as famous as a mouth-painting, wheelchair-bound girl can be. Anyway, keeping all of this in mind, imagine my complete HORROR in watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, when the high priest literally rips a man's beating heart out of his chest with his bare hands. Uhm... I don't think that's a Hallmark scene that Joni will be painting with her teeth anytime soon. Again, my lesson learned was that rebellion only leads to disappointment... and a queasy stomach.

4. I drank before I was 21. I was a freshman in college, and finally on my own. The only problem was since I didn't drink in high school like all of the cool kids, no one ever taught me how to drink or more specifically, how to pace myself drinking. Also, no one ever taught me that Lime Vodka is never - under any cirmcumstances - a good idea. Long story short (and mostly to protect any innocent people involved) I ended up literally crawling across campus on my hands and knees, luckily finding my friends in time for them to keep me under careful adult supervision as I passed out. Yup. Rebellion = disappointment + queasy stomach.

5. And my final confession is that I was supposed to have been making dinner while I've been blogging all night. Granted, for once my rebellion didn't really lead to disappointment, just hunger. Much hunger. On that note, I really have to go fix something for dinner before I gnaw off my own arms. Who knows? Perhaps I could become famous by typing with my teeth...

Happy Sinterklaas Day!

Ok, here's the thing. I haven't been blogging lately. I know this, and you know this. Well, since I'm American, I can't very well take responsibility for my own actions. I need a scapegoat. Also, considering that I'm American, I really should look for someone to sue for my lack of bloggingness. What can I say? It is the American way, baby.

Well, since I'm not a litigious person, I'll have to find someone who I realistically can't sue. I could blame McDonald's like everyone else, but I haven't eaten that junk in over a decade, so that's clearly out. I could blame "Corporate America", but that's a bit too generic, and quite frankly, Corporate America keeps food on my table. I could blame my parents, but that just always sounds too Oprah-esque.

I've got it! *Light bulb subsequently appears above Mateo's headscratching*. I'll blame Sinterklaas! That's PERFECT! I can sue Sinterklaas, because he's got unlimited resources!

Now I know most of you are thinking to yourselves, "Sinter-WHO? Sinter-WHAT? Sinter-WHERE-IN-THE-HECK-DOES-HE-COME-UP-WITH-THIS-STUFF?"

Well, for starters, you should broaden your horizons. In a nutshell, Sinterklaas is the Dutch Santa Claus. He lives in Spain, and arrives in the Netherlands the evening of December 5. Children leave their wooden shoes out filled with hay and carrots for his white horses in hopes that Sinterklaas will reward their year of good behavior with loads of presents. For those kids who aren't so good (and you know who you are) he leaves coal and switches to reprimand you. If you're really bad, Sinterklaas' helpers throw you in a gunneysack and take you back to Spain.

I know, I know, it all sounds pretty horrible. You're probably thinking that we shouldn't base an entire year's worth of do-goodings completely based on fear, but if you really think about it, that's pretty much how most religions are structured. Do good, get rewarded. Do bad, get punished. It's been proven for centuries that it works. And word on the street is that it's even the basis behind training Sigfried and Roy's white tigers, but that really isn't important right now. You need to stay focused on the issue at hand.

Well, seeing that I was a VERY good boy this year, Sinterklaas stopped by my house and left me the perfect gift. Perfect. A puzzle.

Now keep in mind that for a person with OCD, a puzzle isn't merely a pastime or a hobby. It isn't even a challenge. It's your destiny.

I literally had to be pulled away from the puzzle the other night to go to bed. After all, it was well past midnight, and I needed to wake up early the next morning to shovel four inches of show off my driveway. (OCD quirk number 742 - I can't stand to have ANY snow on my driveway. Keep in mind that I don't own a snowblower and my driveway is nearly 1,000 square feet, so it typically takes me two hours to complete. Yes, I've been known to shovel up to three times a day to keep the driveway spotless. Don't ask. The neighbors have stopped asking.)

Back to the puzzle... which remains uncompleted even as I type. It's driving me crazy. I love it. I love everything about it. I love making fitting small pieces together to form a greater whole. I love the detail, I love watching it progress.

What I don't love is sitting for hours at a time while I complete it. I'm getting fat, which is why I ran a sprint triathlon tonight at the gym. All the Sinterklaas cookies and Dutch pastries are making me a bit sluggish. I can't help it, I'm made of sugar.

Happy Sinterklaas Day!