I Gallop On

I think this is the funniest t-shirt. Check it out on cafepress.com

I've been tagged by the delightful Anne over at Smells Horsey to tell you eight things you don't know about me--

A sitcom character was once named after me, by a boy who sat in front of me in high school geometry class and others throughout the years, and who went on to Hollywood to become a wildly successful television producer and all around go-zillionaire. I think the particular sitcom in which I was "named" however, lasted about two weeks.

I think that apple pie, cherry pie, peach pie, raspberry pie, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, coconut cream pie ... you get the drift ... is hands down The Food of the Gods. My mother used to make vinegar pie. I kid you not. Vinegar.

I think it was a throwback to her days of growing up dirt poor when there was nothing in the kitchen and you had to get creative. Kind of like the pioneers used to whip one up out of beans (and sugar?). Check this out: A recipe for Vinegar Pie from Emeril. What is he? Mad?!

I'm a gnostic. (Ten Things About Gnosticism and Gnosticism 101 ... if you're interested... maybe watch The Matrix.)

Our High School mascot was the ... Beavers. And it gets infinitely worse from there. I was on the drill team for three years. I will leave it up to you and what I will count on as your momentary lack of every shred of your good taste to guess (absolutely correctly) what our drill team name was. Stupid stupid stupid drill team instructor, a woman too. I can't believe I walked around with that emblazoned in bright gold letters on my high school jacket all those years. Oh, yes, and for the icing on the cake--I was the Captain of the drill team. Uhhhh... Go Beavers!

I like to read a good book in a steaming hot bath tub, water so hot you can hardly stand it. So you'd be wise not to loan me any of your books.

I'm not sure whom I find more repugnant--Nancy Pelosi or John Hagee.

Many of my ancestors are Cherokee. My grandparents called us "Black Irish", not a term you hear much anymore. My relatives from Oklahoma add an interesting twist when drawling out my name. They call me KEEEEiiiiiimmmmburhleeeeeee or sometimes just KEEEEEEEE-iiim. My very German married name is one that nearly always brings a smile to people's lips upon hearing it for the first time, unless they have extraordinarily good control of their facial muscles. I'm not sure how it will go over on a book cover, though.