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[about the author]

i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish, eh?

i work crossword puzzles in ink.

i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie izzard. can't decide, really.

i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really good aunt.

i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.

i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.

i never play dumb. never.

i am way too hard on myself.

i am a change agent.

i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.

i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.

i am militantly pro-choice.

i am pro-adoption.

i know a little bit about alot of things.

i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.

i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it. hard.

i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.

i have been known to hold a grudge.

i have hips.

i am not my sister.

i am lousy at forgiving myself.

i am an indoor kind of gal.

i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.

i am 32 flavors. and then some.

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[in case you were wondering]

[the blogger behind the curtain]

[100 things about me]

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[all content copyright 2007 by tequila mockingbird. seriously.]


a tale of two bad-asses
i was talking to my sister this morning, trying to decide what to buy my grandmother for christmas, now that i’ve abandoned my totally-crafty-christmas plans. i love my sister, but every time i talk to her it is a bracing reminder that we are fundamentally different people. fun-da-men-tal-ly. i mean, i know we share a certain amount of dna and all, but, really, the similarities end there.

i'm glad that we get along well now, despite being such different people. we didn't get along at all growing up. at. all. the "relationship" we had as children was a nightmare. for me. for my sister. but, mostly for my mom. in retrospect, i feel especially bad for my mom. it’s a goddamn miracle that child protective services never came and took us away. i’m sure everyone thought my mom beat the crap out of us. she tried really hard to get us to stop. she tried every possible solution. but, we would not be deterred. we were determined to inflict bodily injury on each other. over and over and over again.

when i tell people this, they just laugh. “yeah, i fought with my sister, too.” listen, i don’t think my sister and i were the biggest bad-asses to ever play kickball, but i’m not sure you truly grasp what i’m saying. we really beat the shit out of each other. permanent scars. trips to the hospital. seriously.

maybe it’s the fact that we were girls that makes people scoff. maybe it’s the pictures of our cherubic faces, dressed in complementary holiday dresses, beaming out from the gilded frames around my mom’s house. whatever the case, no one ever believes us when we tell them that we used to terrorize one another.

so, here are a couple of supporting exhibits.

exhibit a: a classic case of reverse psychology put into glorious action. i took a brand new bottle of flintstones chewable vitamins into my bedroom and taunted my sister with them. told her that they were candy, and that it was my candy, and that i’d better not catch her eating any of it. then, i left the lid off, placed the bottle on my desk, and promptly left the room.

she ate the entire bottle.

turns out that this master plan worked far better than i could ever have hoped. must be something bad in flintstones chewable vitamins, ‘cause when my mom took her to the hospital, they pumped her stomach. sweet!

exhibit b: i fall asleep, and my sister cuts off my bangs. like off. not even anything you can sort of comb over. just off. although the physical injury quotient here is low, the scars of mental anguish still linger. so, kudos to my sister on that one.

exhibit c: after being forced to allow my sister into my way-cool treehouse, i convince her that the red blanket in the treehouse is, actually, superman’s cape. you know, the one that enables him to fly. i tell her we’ve been flying with it all morning, and that i didn’t want her stupid-ass to come up in the treehouse, because i knew she would tell on us. after she pinky-swears that she won’t rat on us, i agree to let her use the cape.

and out the door she went.

broke her arm in three places. her nose in two.

i got an ass-whipping on that one.

but the best punishment came from my sister. she would sneak into my bed every night and whale on me with her cast.

i guess i had that coming.
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