Alphabetical Blog Compendium Detailing Everything...

....frivolous. God! Hey, I'm just Ken! Let me now opine petty quibbles. Right! Still typing...User welcomes xanthrochroi.* Yes, zestfully...

*Xanthrochroi: fair-haired, pale-skinned people. Only half a lie, by the way: the colour of the hair doesn't matter much, but I am a sucker for peaches and cream--mostly cream--complexions.

Jen, you and your damned memes! I don't feel like writing anything serious today, and so I'll tackle this A-Z theme of yours.

Accent: If I have one, I don't know it. If I attempt one, it always comes out vaguely French-Canadian.

Booze, attitudes towards: I am a teetotaller, not because I have anything against alcohol in and of itself, but because I don't need it. Also, I hate observing its effects in others. That said, I like--used to like, that is--drinks no self-respecting man is supposed to allow anywhere near himself: daiquiris, pina coladas, and especially Long Island Iced Teas. And I think beer tastes like moose piss.

Chore I hate: all of them. Chore I really hate: scrubbing toilets. Oh, that's original...is there anybody out there who actually enjoys scrubbing toilets? Anyone? Bueller?

Dog or cat: We own both...I love both...but I am at root a cat person. (Sorry, Tux, but it's true.)

Essential Electronics: this computer. Also my stereo and my electronic keyboard.

Favorite cologne (perfume): Colours, by Benetton. If you want to see me turn into a slavering zombie with the I.Q. of a potted plant, spray this stuff in my vicinity.
I don't wear cologne: I've yet to find a scent that doesn't interact with my body chemistry to produce eau de stink.

Gold or silver: I can't afford either. But I prefer the colour silver. Gold is just so...yellowy.

Hometown: hmm. Born in North York, raised in Bramalea, London, and Ingersoll, and a resident of Waterloo, Ontario since 1990. I guess I'm a Waterloogie. Or something like that.

Insomnia: exceedingly rare, ever since I realized all tomorrow's problems would still be there to greet me in the morning whether I slept or not...and that I'd handle them ever so much better if I slept.

Job Title: Dairy Co-ordinator; also In-Store Trainer. Doesn't that sound impressive?

Kids: None. Sometimes this still provokes a wistful longing, but that usually changes to acute relief when I see the fruits of other people's sexual congress.

Living arrangements: your standard two-storey semi-detached, almost identical to one I lived in twenty years ago. That's for now: the future will bring one or at most two new (to us) domiciles; the one we retire into will be a bungalow on some sort of body of water.

Most admirable traits: loyalty, empathy, and humour.

Number of sexual partners: Six. That's supposed to be low for a man my age--I find it disagreeably high. At least three of those partners I look back on with some species of regret.

Overnight hospital stays: none in my memory. Of course, I spent the first six months of my life hospitalized, so hopefully I've used up my lifetime quota. I read recently that the average decibel level at midnight in a hospital is 64. How conducive to healing do you think that is?

Phobias: I have a host of irrational fears, three of which are probably severe enough to be classed as phobias. The strongest by far is my fear of driving a motor vehicle, a phobia which has shaped, and will continue to shape, my life. It's tremendously limiting.
I'm also afraid of stinging insects. If one lands on me, it's all I can do not to go completely rigid...which usually provokes a sting. The first time I can remember being stung, a wasp got me through my jeans. Modestly precludes my telling exactly where: the memory of intense pain trumps modesty and yells out SCROTUM. Ow.
My third phobia is a little harder to class. It's not fear of heights--the last time I was up in the CN Tower I made a point of jumping on the glass floor, scaring the crap out of a couple of people who were sharing it with me. Rather, it's a fear of instability at a height. I'll climb a ladder, under duress, but it starts to rock and quiver, baby, I'm coming down NOW. This little frightfest of mine is largely responsible for my never having climbed a tree.

Quote: "There are things you can control and things you can't control. The things you can control, you can control...so why worry about them? And the things you can't control, you can't control...so why worry about them?"

Religion: My belief system ranges all over the map, incorporating aspects of Buddhism, secular humanism, and a host of philosophies. Essentially I believe in a higher power--which you may choose to call God, but do not have to--and that this higher power exists both within and without. I believe that reality is created by force of will. I do not believe in a literal heaven or hell, much less in some literal father-figure with a beard, sitting on a cloud somewhere and judging his creations.

Siblings: My firstborn twin brother died when we were two days old.

Time I wake up: The alarm is set for 5:18. I'm usually awake somewhere between 15 minutes and half an hour before that.

Unusual talent or skill: nothing jumps out. What talents I have are pretty pedestrian.

Vegetable I love: Potatoes! Mashed!

Worst habit: forgetfulness, procrastination, single-mindedness, forgetfulness...

X-rays: several trifling affairs and a CT-scan done in grade nine, when I suffered from something they called "spot migraines". They'd come on without warning, drive me to my knees, and fade within a minute. Thankfully, I seem to have outgrown that particular ailment.

Yummy foods I make: My wife reports that I came equipped with an ability to make decent pasta. I must hasten to admit that this is cheatery-fakery hocus-pocus: what she means is that I can follow the directions on store-bought pasta entrees. I have made ravioli from scratch. Once...
Anything else I make well I owe completely to her--because I'm using her recipe. I don't think there's anything she makes that isn't yummy. Sometimes I think my wife should be on Iron Chef. (America, though; the original features creepy-crawly sea-y thingies far too often.)

Zodiac sign: Aquarius. I'm a prototypical example of my sign, too, which makes it hard for me to discount astrology. Oh, I'm positive those daily newspaper readings are sheer bunk, but I've had my horoscope done--by computer, so no cold reading was possible--and been literally stunned by what's come out. Two minutes with a mouse yields this little nugget:

Though intellectually open, you can be enormously stubborn, opinionated, and inflexible on a one-to-one level. You have strong convictions and feelings about fairness and equality, and you try to live by your ideals, but your ideals about how people SHOULD treat one another don't always take into account human weaknesses, differences, and needs. You probably dislike sentimentality and traditional gender roles and "games".

Uh, yup, that's me.

We now return to our regularly scheduled seriousness....