Some months ago, my much-adored blogpal, Glamourpuss, tagged me with the following meme. Although I entertain some ambivalence about memes, I so much enjoyed reading Puss’s answers that I’m game on this one.
If I were a beginning, I would be….everything in the movie RAISING ARIZONA that comes before the opening credits. Then I’d go get my dip-tet.
If I were a month, I would be…controlled by the moon. But I’m not a month; I’m a woman, so I’m controlled by chocolate.
If I were a time of day, I would be…the eleven minutes of Craig Ferguson’s nightly monologue.
If I were a planet, I would be…shocked by my gravity. I’m generally full of levity.
If I were a season, I would be….turmeric. Ah, crud, that’s a seasoning. Okay, I guess I’d be Fall because it’s the season that’s, em, the color of turmeric.
If I were a sea animal, I would be….choking in mercury-laden waters.
If I were a direction, I would be….“Take a left at the corner, and then sit on the couch.”
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be…overstuffed and stained with pasta sauce, envying the Eileen Gray Bibendum chair in the corner for its sleek, clean funkiness. Superior bitch.
If I were a sin, I would be…gluttony. Put a dozen chocolate-chip cookies next to me, click the stopwatch, watch it run for a minute, and then check the cookies. Poof. Gone.
If I were a liquid, I would be…a Long Island Iced Tea: shots of five different liquors masked by the effervescence of Coca-Cola. I’m a little too much and can make your head ache and your mouth feel all cotoony, yet you–strangely–find yourself coming back for more.
If I were a scare, I would be…a Constitution overturned to allow George W. a third term.
If I were a gem, I would be…an agate. Not that, er, I can really recognize an agate. But my kids and husband are really obsessed with looking for agates when we go to the beach, and I like the idea of them pawing through warm stones to find me. Hmm. Maybe they could just bury me under pebbles and then dig me out so’s we could cut out all this middleman gem nonsense.
If I were a flower/plant, I would be…able to overwinter. Put me outside; bring me indoors; I’ll still give you color.
If I were a kind of weather, I would be….cool, but with no chance of frost. I’m hoodie weather walking around in freckled skin.
If I were a musical instrument, I would be…the zither. Strum me, choir boys. Strum me.
If I were an animal, I would be…a platypus. I’d engender simultaneous feelings of “what the hell?” and “hey, kinda cool.” Dig the bill.
If I were an emotion, I would be….angry, confused, sad, surprised, and strangely buoyant that I was an emotion.
If I were a vegetable, I would be…a point of contention for right-to-lifers.
If I were a sound, I would be…sailed by small boats.
If I were an element, I would be…wishing my isotopes were more stable.
If I were a car, I would be…running on fumes.
If I were a song, I would be…”She’s Happy” by the Gear Daddies–not too polished or ground-breaking, but infectious and full of a good story. Plus, as this song, I’d make you want to sing along really loudly and yell “WOO-HOO” at regular intervals while spilling beer on your pals.
If I were a food, I would be…eaten first by the survivors on the island after the plane went down.
If I were a place, I would be…neither here nor there.
If I were a material, I would be…homespun.
If I were a taste, I would be…stealthy but lingering. Call me Mace.
If I were a scent, I would be…that of fresh bread baking.
If I were a religion, I would be…tolerant of those not me.
If I were a sentence, I would be…a run-on.
If I were a facial expression, I would be…fleeting and revealing.
If I were a subject in school, I would be…playing hooky.
If I were a colour, I would be…sort of a blueish-greenish tone with an auburn undertone, all capped off by a thread of gold. Just that easy.
If I were a thing, I would be…part of the Fantastic Four.
If I were a book, I would be…Russian literature, running on for thousands of pages and requiring flow charts of characters for my readers to have any hopes of following along.
If I were an artist, I would be…formerly known as Princess.
If I were a collection of poems, I would be…pissed off at myself for being so cryptic. But then I’d be sitting on a park bench one day and would meet this other collection of poems, one by Louis Jenkins, and I’d see the light: prose poems can make sense and feck all to the rest of y’all, damn poetry. I’d start dating Jenkins’ poems, and then we’d shack up and have a couple little haikus before heading into a dark and cruel break-up that would leave us all shattered and unsure of our line breaks. But every now and then, flailing around in my Plathian state, I’d drop some iambic pentameter and have a flashback during which I’d be reminded why I had ever loved the Jenkins collection in the first place:
“BIG BROWN PILLS
If I were a landmass, I would be…the Maldives: hovering just above sea-level and easily swamped.
If I were a watch, I would be…chronically off by 7 minutes.
I believe in the big brown pills, they lower cholesterol and improve digestion. They help prevent cancer and build brain cells. Plus they just make you feel better overall. I believe in coffee and beet greens and fish oil, of course, and red wine, in moderation, and cinnamon. Green tea is good and black tea, ginseng. I eat my broccoli. Nuts are very good and dark chocolate, has to be dark, not milk chocolate. Tomatoes. But I think the big brown pills really help. I used to believe in the little yellow pills but now I believe in the big brown pills. I believe that they are much more effective. I still take the little yellow ones, but I really believe in the big brown ones.” –Louis Jenkins
If I were God, I would be…a little more directly communicative.
If I were a vowel, I would be…a team player.
If I were a consonant, I would be…dominant.
If I were a theory, I would be…jubilant the day I received an invitation to the Famous Theories cocktail party. I’d get there early, stake out a corner with a good vantage point, and once the Conspiracy Theory About JFK’s Death showed up (tipsy already), I’d sidle over, pour it a G & T, and start pumping it for every juicy detail. Don’t worry: I’d tuck it into a cab at the end of the evening, shortly before calling the New York Times and getting my first byline.
If I were a famous person, I would be…constantly trying to use my clout as a crowbar to wedge my way close–ever closer–to former-president Jimmy Carter. With a white-hot, volcano-deep passion, I adore that man. He is the axis of my faith in humanity. He makes my heart beat for intelligence and energy bent towards genuine good works. I just want to sit next to him and stroke his arm sometimes. Is that so wrong?
If I were an item of electronic equipment, I would be…Miss Sylvia, our Italian-born espresso machine. She lives in a place of honor, both on our kitchen counter and in my husband’s heart. When I’m off with Jimmy, he will take her to the movies and hold her steam-spout there in the darkness.
If I were a sport, I would be…air hockey: simple but slick, accessible to all ages and abilities.
If I were a movie, I would be…RUSHMORE. I aspire to such elegant perfection in any genre.
If I were a cartoon, I would be…”The Rabbit of Seville” featuring good ole Bugs.
If I were an explorer, I would be…so totally lost I’d have to shoot the horses and eat them, even though I’d be morally opposed to harming any animals involved in the production of my exploration.
If I were a scientist, I would be….still trying to figure out how to focus the microscope.
If I were a relation, I would be…Bill Clinton’s version of “not sexual.”
If I were a river, I would be…the Yellowstone.
If I were intoxication, I would be…free and cause no hangover.
If I were alone, I would be…looking at my watch and worrying about how little time I still had before everyone would be home. Just another ten minutes, please.
If I were a question, I would be…Why can’t all those fresh young rehab-addict beyotches see that Helen Mirren is hotter than they’ll ever be?
If I were a habit, I would be…worn by the Mother Superior as she sang “Climb Every Mountain.” Then I’d feel all dirty after she wore me during an illicit rendezvous with Julie Andrews in the catacombs. Ain’t nuthin’ nastier than nun-on-nun.
If I were in an atom, I would be…looking for my Eve.
If I were you, I would be…a little exhausted yet thinking about doing this meme on my own blog.