Once you’ve been tagged, you must write a blog with ten weird, random things, little-known facts or habits about yourself. At the end, choose at least 5 people to be tagged, list their names and why you picked them. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you’ve been tagged” and tell them to read your latest blog.
Now, I dunno if I'm going to tag 5 more schmucks, errr, friends, but I'll go ahead and post random noise about me me glorious wonderful me all damned day.
 I'm a fairly decent baseball switch hitter. Once upon a time (long long ago in a galaxy far far away...) I did something to my right shoulder. By "something" i mean I separated it or tore it out of socket or tore some cartilage and ligaments or something. I've never really discovered what the damage was, as I never told anyone about the injury (actually, injuries) which led to the problem, but due to a body surfing wipeout in Acapulco and then an awkward fall in a cow pasture football game, my right shoulder hangs about 2 inches low and makes a suspicious crunchy sound when it goes through a full range of motion. I fully recovered over the course of the next year, but that fall I found I had to bat left handed to avoid a nasty pain, so I wound up learning to bat as a switch hitter. It has never really had much value, except for the occasional 'sons versus dads" baseball game in the summer, when the dads are all told to bat left handed. I do and usually crank a few homers. No big whoop.
 In high school, I received "Best In The District" awards for Science, History, *and* Math—the first and to-date only ever such "triple-dip" in my high school's history. Interestingly enough, I did not win the English award, as one of my teachers disliked me intensely (due to some "less that artful" stories I submitted as assignments) and was fond of telling everyone that I had no talent for writing. I giggle that I've now been a paid professional writer for some 20 years, and when I finally hit a big payday for writing, I might track her down so that I can mail her a well rolled copy of the news release of my success, and a small tube of KY so that she can more easily shove the news of my success up her tightly-puckered ass.
 I have an enormous head. In fitted baseball caps, I usually have to special order either a 7-3/4 or sometimes even a 7-7/8. I tell people that this is due to my three-lobed brain: I have an extra "middle hemisphere" which deals purely with spite and bitterness.
 At one point in school, most of my friends were convinced that I'd wind up a comic book artist or perhaps an illustrator for MAD magazine. I'm actually pretty good with pen and paint and such, but I've never really enjoyed it well enough to consider ever trying it as a professional gig.
 I've never water skiied. I'm not entirely sure why this is, but it's one of those things I somehow missed and have never really thought about except for when people seem stunned and say "What? You've never water skiied!?!"
 My family came very close to moving to New Zealand in 1973. Dad worked for a pipeline supply and engineering company and there was some huge project in that region, and his company, a multinational headquartered in Belgium (I think) was looking for US workers to volunteer to set up shop in Wellington. If my parents had not been fighting like cats and dogs (and headed towards a divorce a few years later), I might now be an obnoxious Kiwi.
 I've never smoked anything, and have never used or consumed any illegal substances. Among professional writer types, this seems even more unusual.
 I can do the best bellyflop of anyone I know. I used to be able to do them onto bare ground, in fact, but I now weigh a bit more than in my prime, so I am reluctant to test my form in such a manner these days. I can however still smack the water so that pretty much every point on my body hits the surface at the same moment, creating a loud and scary looking smack without any great discomfort or pain. As with many of my talents, it has no real useful value.
 Once upon a time I was a very good racquetball player, and actually could serve hard enough to sometimes explode the ball during the serve. It only happened maybe four or five times ever, but it was always a fun and impressive moment to serve and see fragments of blue rubber flying all around the forecourt area.
 I've worked (professionally) as a ditch digger, construction worker, math tutor, copywriter, janitor, stagehand, ice cream dipper, cabinet maker, delivery driver, physics tutor, deli counterman, designer, pump monkey (full service gasoline attendant and repairman), and postal worker. I prefer writing to all those gigs.
And now, given that I am supposed to tag fine more suckers, err, I mean participants to continue this damned fool exercise in auto-erotic self-fluffery, I reach into the either and tag the following:
Scott the Reader, 'cuz he's a quiet guy who likely has some cool and or scary unknown factoids lurking behind his innocuous smile ("#3-- I quite enjoy the taste of human flesh...")
Steve "SoCal" Barr, 'cuz he is good at secrets, being the leader of an ancient secret society that he loves to talk about, and 'cuz he has nothing else going on in his sad empty soul crushing life of masturbation and video games.
Will Dixon, 'cuz he likes PREDATOR and has some cool bloggery going and needs to be dragged into the harsh gray light of dawn.
Dante Kleinberg 'cuz he has a fun name to say and cuz he's not yet been tagged and such folks are very hard to find this late in the meme
Ryan Rasmussen, 'cuz he posts way too much non-self-absorbed stuff in a form/genre/medium clearly intended for self-absorbed stuff and therefore needs to have his slack ass dragged back onto the farm.