I'm tagging myself with this (tagging along way behind everybody else who did it) because I just wrote one of them to Melinda and it's too cool not to share.
1.) A gay psychic once told me, "You were a boy many times in former lives."
(And although I remain agnostic about former lives, that felt right. For one thing, it could explain why I hate asking for directions! I also might have been J's sister, last time around.)
Now I have to think of four more. Bummah! (Too bad I can't go public with the other one I told Melinda.)
2.) I was the Lee County, Florida spelling champion in 1958.
(Mom took me to the state bee at the Fountainebleu [sp?] in Miami Beach.)
I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel now, telling you things I've probably told you before, just to get out of this exercise with honor:
3.) I have been on both "Wheel of Fortune" (1988) and "Jeopardy" (1991 or '92).
(Won a car on "Wheel." On "Jeopardy," $5700 and a trip to a dude ranch in Tucson, where I rode horseback to a local bar and learned to line-dance and looked at the stars, and J sat in the Jacuzzi and looked at the mountains and got mad at me for looking at the stars.)
4.) I went to Harvard when Harvard for girls was called Radcliffe. Graduated magna in spite of spending my senior year having sex or thinking about having sex. What a con job.
(H and R were weirdly half-merged. We lived separately, went to classes together, got a Harvard diploma but had a separate graduation. A few years later the dorms and Commencement were co-ed. Like other privileged populists of my generation, I went through contortions to avoid "dropping the H-bomb." For years, asked where I went to college, I'd look skyward and say, "Oh, in Boston.")
5.) (The real shocker, extremely embarrassing to admit:) For at least a year in the early '80s I wore nothing but red because I was interested in the charlatan guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. I suppose I could blame it all on "post-abortion syndrome."
(J and common sense saved me from going off the deep end. I actually went to a week-long festival out in the arid wilds of eastern Oregon in summer 1983, just before the poisoning and machine guns and plastic gloves. They had a great sound system and good music, both their own brand of devotional music and nighttime disco with beer. I had a great time dancing to "Billie Jean" and "Maniac," and some interesting experiences doing Rajneesh's unorthodox meditations. Otherwise, I had to admit to myself that I was not impressed.)