Random threesomes

Well...looking around the blogosphere tonight, I came across Jen's 'Everything Comes In Threes' entry. It covered some things I don't think I have, so I borrowed it.

Three names I go by: Ken, Kenny (ugh) and Macaw.
"Macaw" is my long-standing nickname coined by my dad when I was about two--because, he said, all I ever did was squawk and shit.

Three screen names I go by: Why would anyone have more than one? I'm Ken Breadbox everywhere.

Three physical things I like about myself: I'd be lying if I said there was even one. Not that my body image is particularly terrible, but it's not particularly good, either. It's not particularly anything; I rarely even think of my body. Think of memorable Christmas presents you have received over the years. Now think about what they came wrapped in. Don't remember, do you? That's how I feel about bodies.

Three physical things I dislike about myself: My chronic inflexibility; my poor eyesight; my misshapen, malformed set of teeth.

Three parts of my heritage: French-Canadian and a mishmash of any number of other things. Because some of my ancestors were adopted, there's no way to know for sure. I'm of the opinion that anyone who thinks they know their heritage going more than three generations back is quite possibly wrong. Adoptions and bastardy are not new shoots on family trees.
This is also one of those things, like celebrities and football, that I Just Can't Bring Myself To Care About. Who cares where you came from? What should matter is where you are now and where you are going.

Three things that scare me: Stinging insects--a real honest-to-goodness phobia of mine--ladders, and snakes. Or is that snakes and ladders?

Three of my everyday essentials: Glasses, the computer, and a book.

Three of my favourite musicans: John McDermott, Secret Garden, and Adiemus. Honk if you've heard of any of them.

Three of my favourite songs (there are, literally, dozens): "What A Good Boy" by the Barenaked Ladies; "Horseshoes" by Moxy Fruvous; "Roses are Red" by Harry Chapin

Three things I want in a relationship: Understanding, compassion, and stimulation (that's intellectual stimulation, thank you).

Three lies I tell: I had to ask my wife for the answer to this question. She reports that there only are two, but they come in an infinite number of variations. They all boil down to "I'm okay with that" and "I understand".
The first is, I'll grant, pretty common. I mean it literallly, too: whatever it is, I'm okay with it. It doesn't rock my boat...there are probably fifty million things I'd rather do...but will I wither and die if I do it? Probably not. My wife insists on calling this a lie by omission. I prefer to think of it as picking my battles.
The other "lie" is kind of similar. I say I understand you, but chances are I've just grown bored with your attempts to explain yourself and frustrated that I can't speak Martian.

Three things about the opposite sex that appeal to me: a sunny disposition first and foremost. A sourpuss gets no votes from me. Second, a peaches and cream complexion. Cue Homer Simpson: Mmmmm, peaches and cream. Third: some meat on the bones. I don't find skeletons sexy and can't imagine why so many men claim to.

Three of my hobbies: Reading--science fiction and historical fiction are my favorites; blogging; and playing piano (though I don't do that as much as I once did...it's my stress relief valve and there hasn't been much stress in my life since I got married).

Three careers I've considered: Journalist (but I can't ask stupid questions, so that's out); novelist (but I can't seem to write more than ten pages at once); a career above store level in the grocery industry (but I suspect, with no false modesty, that I'm too smart for it.) Also, I don't drive. Not driving puts a real stump in almost any career path...

Three places I'd like to go on vacation: Pretty much all of Europe, but with an intense concentration in the British Isles; absolutely anywhere secluded in northern Ontario; a cross-Canada trip culminating in the Inside Passage cruise from Vancouver to Skagway, Alaska. Honourable mention: anywhere with a wide selection of roller coasters.

Three things I'd like to do before I die: Be a published editorialist; be a published composer; have made enough of a mark on the world that the memory of me doesn't fade with my life.

Three ways I'm a stereotypical guy: I whine when I'm sick--vociferously; I'm only slightly lazier than your average tree sloth; and I procrastinate to no end. Why put off 'til tomorrow what you can do next week instead?

Three ways I'm a stereotypical girl: I'm pretty sensitive, especially to the pain, real or imagined of others. I say "I'm sorry" like a girl. When guys say they're sorry, it means "I fucked up. Blame me. I will do whatever it takes to make it up so I can have sex with you tonight." When I say I'm sorry, it usually means "I'm sorry you're hurt/sick/disappointed". Often I've had nothing to do with the situation at all, and I can't tell you the number of times I've heard women say "why are you apologizing? It wasn't your fault". To which I invariably reply "But I'm still sorry you're feeling bad. Can I have sex with you tonight?" Or something to that effect.