Showing posts with label Vidalia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vidalia. Show all posts

29 March 2007

That of which I am most proud

The 500th post.


As painstakingly difficult as self-congratulation is for me, I can't help but share with you the wee bit of pride I'm feeling upon reaching this milestone. Granted, embedded in the accomplishment of writing 500 posts in just over 3 months is the admission I have little or no social life, but even so, it feels pretty 'effing good, and you should at the very least give me golf claps for continually ripping apart - and occasionally building back up - the unfortunate looking women on and around the ConnAve/M Street intersection.

As I was deciding how best to celebrate number 500, I started thinking about the vast spectrum of all that which I have earned, stolen and been unfairly given based on my looks over the past 27 years. Where does this blog rank among these?

After much thought and a close call among learning Chinese, going without food or water while enduring two-a-day crew practices for three straight seasons and that which ended up at number five, here for you all is a peek into your editrix's self-absorbed soul:

Proudest achievement #5: Vidalia on M Street. That's really all I want to say about it.


Proudest achievement #4: My 200+ collection of purchased-in-China action movies. I have every Van Damme, Seagal, Stallone, Snipes, Schwarzenegger, Willis and Lundgren movie ever made. Even the rare straight-to-DVD ones like The Last Patrol and Today You Die. And the best part is, if I ever want to watch any of them with Chinese voice-overs, Thai subtitles or Chinese voice-overs with Thai subtitles, that fantasy is only a menu click away.


Proudest achievement #3: This blog. It was close between achievements three and four -- the blog only beat out my action movie collection by an Olsen twin.

Proudest achievement #2: My legs. I've only recently realized the now obvious connection between my love for my legs and my unusual - so it's been described - habit of going entire seasons without wearing pants. Some women hold dear their kindheartedness, some relish in their ability to whip up a dinner party four-course, and others would probably cite their critical analysis or conflict mediation skills. That's fine. For them. But I happen to love my runner's calves, my gave-up-Haribo-gummis-for-these thighs and the insanely high arches in my feet that afford me hours and hours of painless 4-inch heel-prancing. Yes, prancing. Just the way I was born, haters.


Proudest achievement #1: Well, duh. You saw this coming. I'm not sure exactly how Montesquieu qualifies as an achievement, but since the day that 2 lb dollop of jasmine-conditioned wonderful was given to me, I made a promise to place him at the top of every list I made.