A Little Caesar's just opened three blocks from my house. I had brief consumer relations with the Caesar while living in Sioux Falls, South Dakota for a summer, but it was nowhere near the stone's throw away this one is. I predict much one dollar Crazy Bread in my future; this is either a very good or verrrrrry bad development.
Marisa and David have tagged me [edit: Ack! Rob got me, too!] with a 'lameness' blog that was actually started by Marisa. That's right, people, I'm important enough to be included in the first wave of a meme. Boo-yah.
Here's the meme:
I'm actually having a bit of trouble with this one, not because I'm not lame but because I'm gleefully unaware of just how lame I can really be. Here goes nuttin':
1. I was a spelling bee kid. A fair chunk of my junior high years were spent spelling. According to the Knights of Columbus, I was third best speller in the state of Iowa in 7th grade. (And I still hold a grudge against the moderator/judge: if you pronounce "accessible" like "assessable", my 7th grade self is going to spell "assessable") My shining moment was winning the South Dakota regional Scripps Howard spelling bee -- that's the one whose national competition is broadcast on ESPN. Unfortunately, because I was an Iowa resident, I wasn't allowed to move on to the state competition and the runner-up took my place. I did get to keep the three-foot-tall trophy, though.
2. I have a history of blood-related fainting. It used to be horribly embarrassing, but I'm coming around to it slowly. Seeing blood doesn't really bother me, but my imagination is what you might call active, so when I hear stories or only get snippets, I can visualize the rest and often much worse than the reality of the situation. (It is probably also a big contributing factor to my extreme phobia of accidentally slitting my wrists.) Among the inconvenient places I have (or have almost) passed out: my college cafeteria, a movie theatre (two, almost three, times!), the Red Line (almost), my childhood pastor's home, and Konak.
3. I spent a summer (that same one in Sioux Falls) as a door to door meat salesman. It was for a small company similar to Omaha Steaks, and every morning we'd toss cases of frozen meat into the back of our delivery trucks with a big chunk of dry ice and set out to random small towns in South Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, and occasionally Nebraska and peddle our wares from one house to the next. Meat peddling can be surprisingly fruitful if you can make it past the first few weeks (working on 100% commission leads to a very high turnover rate), and I can also now say that I have been ticketed and fined for "soliciting" my meat.
4. I grew up in one of those small towns. Small like you can't understand type small. My high school graduating class was a whopping 37 people. I could still name everyone in my senior yearbook, first name and last -- the entire high school. And my hometown of George (Yes, George, which is right down the road from Edna. They were brother and sister. I shit you not.) is actually relatively normal in size for the area. As opposed to Ritter, about 20 miles away, with its entire population of six people last I had heard.
5. I use three different names. This baffles people, and I think it's probably the sort of baffle that swings towards the 'lame' side. Depending on when, where, and in what capacity you met me, you might think of me as Adam Van Briesen, Bries Vannon, or Paul Rekk. I really don't have a preference, nor am I concerned with the 'real' one. They're all real in my mind. Although, I'm quite certain that three is the limit.
Alright, who wants to play? I pick Tony, Joe, Adam, Rebecca, and the Devil Vet himself. Go!