The following is my answer to those infernal number/list games folks are foisting onto one another (or themselves!) and thrown into Facebook statuses. I don't have anything against them but I figured this would be the perfect way excuse to post a self-serving, whorish blog entry and gain a few website hits. Enjoy!
1. My real first name is Melvis. It’s a portmanteau of “Marvis” and “Elvis.” I attribute this to my parents’ respective interests being that my dad is a fan of Elvis Presley and my mom stalked Marvis Frazier for five years. I should also add that my parents legally changed my name when I was 23.
2. My parents were so poor when I was born that I didn’t actually own feet until I was in third grade. There were times my dad had to call in sick from work so I could borrow his size tens to walk to school. As a result, I developed a deep-seated fear of Pierre LeChopp.
3. It’s no surprise to anyone that I’m a verbomaniac (it helps, being an editor). Much to the dismay of many, I enjoy talking. But my obsession with words also has an upside. In specific, if I don’t openly use “fecal” in a discussion during a meal (no whispering; that’s cheating, kids) at least four times, I lose my appetite and have to be fed with a slingshot.
4. When I was three, I lost all hearing in my right arm.
5. My parents loved messing with me when I was very young for their own amusement. For example, I had this abject fear of potatoes, so they would roll them toward my feet in the kitchen. Oh, how I would panic! Fortunately, it wasn’t long before I somehow conquered my fear of spuds (I’m a quarter Irish. BOO-YAH!). In response to this particular triumph, they started throwing them at me. Overhand.