Who was your arch enemy when you were 10?

To be completely honest I didn’t have any enemies at the age of ten. Ten was a good time of life for me. I had just moved to a new state, had met some new friends, lived in a brand new house. It was good all around.

When I was nine years old though it was a different story. I had an enemy, oh did I ever. He was ten, I was of course a year younger. He was my cousin and I was living in a trailer outside his family home with my mom. We had moved there for a family emergency — and as a sort of convenience, because my dad (who was in the Army) had just been sent to Korea for 2 years.

My mom thought it would be good for us to be around ‘family’, even though I had never met any of them before in my life. She didn’t want us to be alone so long.

That first year turned into a time of intense one-sided competition between me and my cousin. He always had to 1-up me: If I had a toy, he wanted two; If I dared to jump from the swing set, he had to jump from higher; If I built an impressive structure out of Lincoln Logs, he had to knock it down and build something ‘better’. He just didn’t enjoy having a new ‘boy’ enter the household. He had grown up being the center of attention and he was determined to stay in exactly that position.

So that summer when I met a young girl named, ironically enough, Summer, it goes without saying that my cousin wanted her for himself.

She was more than willing to be friends with the both of us, but I think she quickly picked up on his nature and wanted nothing to do with it. She tried showing a polite distance, but when that didn’t get the point across she finally just dropped all pretenses and would sneak off with me every chance we could get. This of course infuriated my cousin, who would spend the entire day ‘hunting’ us, for lack of a better word.

Summer and I were the same age, so we weren’t doing anything aside from spending time together, but when my cousin would eventually find us he would harass us to the point where Summer would eventually go home, simply trying to make peace. I won’t go into all the evil things my cousin did that year to try and keep me and Summer apart. It is enough to say that his day wasn’t a happy one unless he was making me and Summer miserable.

It got to be too much for her after awhile and she stopped coming around. I can’t say I blame her, I would have left too if I was able. I didn’t see her again after that. She was my first crush. That was the last year I ever spoke to my cousin.

What are the warning signs that you should leave a party?

Vomit

I think it explains itself.

If I had an extra 3 hours in my day, how would I spend it?

I would spend those 3 hours with my favorite person in the world. I won’t use any names, but hers starts with a “V” and ends in “ictoria” … opps, darn… Might of given a little too much information there.

Wouldn’t matter what we did, those extra hours would be enjoyable. Of course, SHE might use those 3 hours to nap!… in which case I might have to sneak up and… no, I won’t say anything more -nods-

Bacon Pasta – Italy – Chen Chen & Boon Chew by avlxyz

If you could eat only one type of cuisine for a year, what would it be?

I would have to go with Italian. I’m a sucker for pasta of just about any sort. Though if I truly had to eat nothing but Italian for a year, I’m not sure my love of it would survive once those 365 days were over. That would be A LOT of pasta. Not to mention I would probably put on a good 50 pounds (if not more).

Give us your unreasonable demands.

I really dislike when one portion of food on my plate is touching another portion. Like if my potatoes are mashed into my pork chop (pun intended). Or if the peas are rolling into the corn. Or, heaven forbid, if something liquid is flowing its way towards something dry — that is a big no-no.

Of course this only applies to the plate before the actually eating commences. Once I sit down and start digging in, I have no qualms against mixing things together. I’ll often, for example, chop the pork chop up and put it into the potatoes. But this is an act I have to do myself. I think of my plate as a junior high prom, gotta have some space between those dancers — don’t make the teacher come over and stick an arm between you now…

What will you do when the zombies come?

I would find a good defensible position and just wait it out. I’d grab my family and friends and head to the nearest pizza-hut, barricade the exists and just have a wonderful time until the zombies starved to death.

What better way to wait out an attack than at an all you can eat pizza buffet. Granted we would have to do the cooking ourselves, but I think that is a fair trade-off.

If you were named based on your traits, habits, or likes, what would your name be?

He Who Eats Pizza

My mom once made a comment about me that went something like this:

You make me laugh sometimes. You are so odd about what you eat (in regards to me saying that sugary cereal was bad for you) but you would eat pizza 5 nights a week given the chance.

First of all, she’s wrong; I’d eat pizza 7 nights a week given the chance. Second, hey, pizza isn’t the worst thing in the world! I’m sure it’s better for you than a Big Mac. As far as I’m concerned, pizza is all the food groups: meat, dairy, fruit, veggies, grain. How can you go wrong?