I couldn’t tell you. The closest I got to finding an answer was on Wikipedia.

If Mom Says OK, the person who started this tagging game with me, describes it as a chain letter for bloggers.

I don’t usually succumb to chain mail or forwarded e-mails. I hit delete before I even read any of them. I am sorry to all my friends and family who are forward addicts and just learned for the first time that I never read any of the e-mails you send me. I often mistake real e-mails for forwards and delete those too.

So, why do I feel obligated in this particular case to be part of this “meme” tagging game? Easy – If Mom Says OK is a third degree black belt. I do not mess with people that can kill me with one swoop of their hand.

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Is your refrigerator running?

For the past few months, my refrigerator has been playing games with me. One day it works … the next day my food is spoiled. Not wanting to buy groceries every 5 minutes of my life, I have been eating the spoiled food with remarkably good results. So far, I can report that nothing really bad has happened to me.

I wish it was as simple as putting in a call to maintenance. Unfortunately, every time I call a repair man to my place, the stupid thing starts working again. This is very frustrating.

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The holidays have crept into my apartment. Fake plastic pine needles are neatly sprinkled throughout my living quarters as my tree sparkles with Christmas cheer.

All talk and no action …

As I set my pumpkin on the porch in early October, I was already dreaming of Santa and his eight tiny reindeer. I vow every year to have my tree up before Thanksgiving. And, just like clock work, my laziness kicks in and nothing happens. This year was not the exception. My tree did not make its way up until Nov. 25.

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Intelligence leads to unhappiness …

As we age, we gain more knowledge and wisdom. This intelligence blocks our ability to enjoy life. It interferes with our creativity, our dreams, our fantasies …

The more we fill our heads with facts and figures the more we limit the powers of our imagination. It becomes harder and harder to float effortlessly on a cloud.

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Nothing puts a smile on my face more than a giant plastic replica of a potato …

The idea of a naked plastic potato is funny enough on its own, but the whole fun of Mr. Potato Head is creating a silly face with the many facial features that are stored in his butt.

From eyes and ears to shoes and a hat, Mr. Potato Head is AWESOME (added emphasis on AWESOME).

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Only a loyal “Northern Exposure” fan will understand this …

Since my life has evolved into its own rendition of “Northern Exposure,” I have chosen to only consume my thoughts with such nonsense as that which comes straight from the wisdom of KBHR’s finest, Chris Stevens.

In my own dissatisfaction with my lack of artistic talent, I have decided to continue “trying” for as long as I possibly can. In the end, I may burn my creations or give them away without even a lingering memory.

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Remembering dreams …

Why are dreams so hard to remember? As we sleep our heads are flooded with sweeping images of people, animals, places, objects and memories. We see vivid color and intricate details. Very little of this information is retained. Why?

Once we wake, our dreams are quickly forgotten. Throughout the day, many of us experience flashes from our dreams. We try to put the pieces together in a logical form never even realizing that we are adding details that never even happened. It is like the game of telephone … the details have now morphed into the grounded world and have lost their meaning.

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The sick music obsession shows its ugly head …

I remember the day clearly, because it changed my life forever. Almost two years ago to this day, I spent $300 I didn’t have on an iPod.

It was beautiful. I loved it more than I loved myself. It went everywhere with me and consumed every minute of my evenings and weekends. I downloaded music 24 hours a day. I left my computer on all day and night in hopes that my 6,000+ songs would soon be in my hands.

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