1. If you want to participate, leave me a comment saying, "Interview
me." (And your e-mail address, please.)
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone
else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them
4. We know you have a twin sister, how was it to grow up with her? Did you fight all the time or were you always great friends?
We fought. ALL. THE. TIME. You know how they say whatever hell you put your parents through you'll be put through 10 times worse when you have kids? Ya, the possibility of that being true has frightened me enough to never want children. Well, maybe not never, but definitely not until I can afford a full time nanny to take care of the brats.
The most memorable twin battle I can remember happened in high school, our junior year I think. Twin seems to have no recollection of this happening, isn't selective memory a wonderful thing?
I came home from school at around 2 or 3 in the afternoon and both of my parents were home, sitting on the couch. Automatically I knew something was up because both of my parents own businesses and worked during the day so both of them being at the house in the middle of the day was unusual.
The details of what exactly went down are fuzzy, but I walk in the door, shout a "Sup?" to my parents, and they tell me they need to talk to me. It was one of those situations where you know you're about to get in trouble but you don't really know what for, so your mind starts racing through all the potential things it could be. Did they find out I had been forging their signatures on notes I used to get me out of school? Oh shit, did I cheat on an exam recently? Wait, did I spend too much on my cell phone bill this month? My mind was racing with ideas of what I could have done that would require both of my parents to spend the afternoon away from work to talk to me about.
"We heard you were selling drugs."
Um, what? Me? Selling drugs? I started laughing because I thought it was a joke, except my parents didn't so much as crack a smile.
"This is very serious."
After I was composed enough to talk and managed to pick myself up off the floor where I had been rolling with laughter, I let my parents explain why they would ever think that I was a drug dealer. Me. Miss straight A golf playing pomeranian loving whitest white girl in the world. Twin had told them that she heard (from her best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend who heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with a girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night) that I was selling drugs. The whole idea was so ridiculous to me, I didn't even know any drug dealers, much less how a person would go about becoming a drug dealer.
I'm not sure how long the conversation went on, but from my memory it wasn't very long because I kept laughing so hard that it was difficult to even talk. Eventually, my parents realized that I was innocent of any crimes. Except for maybe that whole forging of signatures thing, but they never found out about that.
I called my mom today to verify that this did indeed happen and wasn't just a crazy dream I had in high school like Twin would want me to believe. She remembered it, alright, but then started complaining about stuff that she remembers me doing in high school that I have insisted never happened.
"Mom, this isn't about me being wrong, this is about Twin being wrong. Let's not lose focus of that."
Sunday, January 11, 2009