Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Seven things you never knew about me

The lovely Tiddlyompompom (great name!) has nominated me for the Kreativ Blogger Award 2010, and with it a challenge to tell you 7 things you didn't know about me. Eek. Here goes...

  1. I'm not entirely convinced about my married name (sorry hubby), even having lived with it for 5 years. My maiden name (Pereira) was exotic and musical, a sort of melt-in-your-mouth surname. My married name (Curry) just makes me think of after-pints emergency food or electronics superstores. I never really minded constantly having to spell my name to everyone - it made me feel special. More special than saying " the food".
  2. I hate it when people fold the tops of cereal boxes inwards. Ugh. It's making me cringe just writing this!
  3. When the post arrives it piles up until my OH makes me open it (whatever would I do without him!!?? besides having a better name, that is...), and then I tear everything open and look inside. No, the contents never quite make it out of the envelope. It is a wonder I am able to exist in the real world, with bills and stuff.
  4. My house is filled with cryptic notes to myself (cryptic even to me) written on anything that can be written on. Favourite materials include torn-open envelopes (see above), around the borders of an article inside a magazine, along the tops of newspapers, etc. I use every bit of the paper possible, with no regard to orientation, placement or priority. My notes include random unrecognised phone numbers with no name anywhere in sight. I keep them because I am bonkers just in case.
  5. I once had an undercut. And little mini dreads. With silver foil on the end. Yes, recently.
  6. When I play guitar I can't quite get the bar chords to stop buzzing so I cheat and only play the top 5 strings in hopes that Hilary won't notice. Maybe I should practice that before we start recording...
  7. I have a deep rooted fear of worms and all things wiggly. No it's not irrational, and if you're easily grossed out, then stop reading. When I was about 14 my friend Jen and I camped out in her back garden in Winnipeg. It rained a little, and when we woke up the tent was pitch black, but light was streaming in through the door. Weird, I thought. I got out and looked and screamed like I have never screamed before (my heart is pounding as I write). There on top of our tent were thousands of bright green canker worms, rained down from the big tree we were under. Big fat ones, little skinny ones.. you name it, they were all there in some sort of disgusting writhing green shiny wormfest. We aren't talking about a few worms. We are talking about wall-to-wall sunlight-blocking wormage. It gets worse. We had to remove and dispose of each and every one before we were allowed to fold up Jen's dad's tent (we used inside-out tape on a roll, in case you're wondering). I have more worm-based horror stories, but that's enough for today. 

I'd also like to nominate the 7 fantastic blogs below for the Kreativ Blogger Award 2010 ...

If you're listed above, please accept your nomination for the award by:
  • copying the award image to your blog
  • linking back to my blog as a little thank you for nominating you
  • blogging about seven things we don’t know about you
  • tagging seven more people, linking to their blogs (don't forget to tell them they've been nominated & what to do to accept their nomination!)


  1. Great post! I have to spell my name too - I even did it to my dad (!) when giving him my bank details once. D'oh! And I also do the ripped envelope note thing :)

  2. My surmane from my first marriage was a hoot. I was Mrs Hoare. I always made me giggle when people had to actually say it whilst trying to sound nice, pronouncing it like "Hooareay". It was such fun! We thought about hyphenating it but that would have been Head-Hoare which really isnt much better.

  3. Glad to see I am not the only one who does the ripped envelope thing. See, OH?? See???

    Great name, Mrs Hoare. You would have been one of those unlucky people marked out in the phone book at public phone booths by teenagers. We used to prank call "Fourla, Chris", which in Quebec literally means "F*** her, for christ's sake". Poor guy.