The following is my answer to those infernal number/list games folks are foisting onto one another (or themselves!) and thrown into Facebook statuses. I don't have anything against them but I figured this would be the perfect excuse to post a self-serving, whorish blog entry and gain a few website hits. Enjoy!
1. My real first name is Melvis. It’s a portmanteau
of “Marvis” and “Elvis.” I attribute this to my parents’ respective interests
being that my dad is a fan of Elvis Presley and my mom stalked Marvis Frazier
for five years. I should also add that my parents legally changed my name when
I was 23.
2. My
parents were so poor when I was born that I didn’t actually own feet until
I was in third grade. There were times my dad had to call in sick from
work so I could borrow his size tens to walk to school. As a result, I
developed a deep-seated fear of Pierre LeChopp.
3. It’s
no surprise to anyone that I’m a verbomaniac (it helps, being an editor).
Much to the dismay of many, I enjoy talking. But my obsession with words
also has an upside. In specific, if I don’t openly use “fecal” in a
discussion during a meal (no whispering; that’s cheating, kids) at least
four times, I lose my appetite and have to be fed with a slingshot.
4. When
I was three, I lost all hearing in my right arm.
5. My
parents loved messing with me when I was very young for their own
amusement. For example, I had this abject fear of potatoes, so they would
roll them toward my feet in the kitchen. Oh, how I would panic! Fortunately,
it wasn’t long before I somehow conquered my fear of spuds (I’m a quarter
Irish. BOO-YAH!). In response to this particular triumph, they started
throwing them at me. Overhand.
