If you're ever on Twitter and you follow a bunch of us crazy writers who call ourselves the #goatposse, you're probably nodding your head by now and thinking, "Ah, yes. Those nut jobs are at it again." :)
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| This is Harvey. He'll be asking the questions around here. |
Well, we are proud to say we managed to
So let's give a warm applause to our new member: Mary Baader Kaley of Not An Editor. By the way, you guys should totally check out her blog and follow her for critiquing tips and excellent interviews with authors.
Harvey volunteered to hunt down Mary and force feed her rutabaga if she refuses to answer the meme questions. Let's see what Harvey's got for us.
Me: (taps on ear piece) Are we on? Hello? Harvey, can you hear me?
Harvey: Baaaa!
Me: Were you able to do the interview?
Harvey: Baaaa!
Me: Oh good. Alright, then. Take it away, Harvey m'boy!
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What do you call your panties/underwear/undergarments? Do you have any commonly used nicknames for them?
I’d have to go with underwear, plain and simple. Somewhat boring, but the odd thing is? I don’t recall anyone of my friends or family members calling them anything different (must be a Midwestern thing). Except Grandpa, who on occasion could be heard referring to his skivvies.
Come to think of it, though, I do have to remind myself (every so often) that I wear Big Girl Panties, and can therefore do anything I put my mind to. Like writing a WiP. Thank heavens for big girl panties.
Have you ever had that supposedly common dream of being in a crowded place in only your underwear?
No. It’s always a dream about being stark nekkid. But I get those bizzaro wardrobe malfuntion elements, like I look down and I have nothing on, I panic and try to hide, and then I look down again, and voila! I have clothes. Ugly ones. But still—whew! Not naked. Until the next time I look down.
What is the worst thing you can think of to make panties out of?
Porcupine quills.
If you were a pair of panties, what color would you be, and WHY?
Skin colored. Because then? If I have the naked nightmare, I can change the butt-nakedness into skin-colored skivvies. Sigh. I feel better already.
Have you ever thrown your panties/underwear at a rock star or other celebrity? If so, which one(s)? If not, which one(s) WOULD you throw your panties/underwear at, given the opportunity?
Haven’t, and don’t know if I would. However, if it were a full moon and someone forced me to do it, I might consider Alcide from HBO’s True Blood. Because I’d be his werewolf bride, and werewolves do not need skivvies. Word.
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You’re out of clean panties. What do you do?
Wear my husband’s boxers. But I would NOT scratch my…self.
If you could have any message printed on your panties, what would it be?
YOU ARE NOT NEKKID. WAKE UP.
Or? THESE ARE BIG GIRL PANTIES. I MEAN UNDERWEAR. NO, SKIVVIES.
How many bloggers does it take to put panties on a goat?
Duh. One. I’d just explain to the goat that they’d stop having the nekkid in public nightmares if they put on panties.
Tag Four People and tell them why you are being so cruel to them.
Jeepers schmeepers. I’m so unskilled at the whole peer pressure thing. Hmm. Only if they want to—yanno—b e cool, like the rest of us in the goat posse. (How’s that?)
1. Sophia Martin, because she was supposed to send me her WiP a while back and I’m still waiting. Ho. And hum.
2. KD Sarge, because she knew the title to a charming children’s book that I couldn’t quite remember.
3. Mary Frame because I have no idea how she got out of this one but still has the goat posse thing on her blog. #momlovesherbetter
4. Jen Bennett because she's a new #goatposse member too.
5. Kellie M., since one of the #goatposse people told me to tag her. So Kellie, yeah, you're tagged. Don't shoot me, I'm only the messenger.
I’m no good at math. Sigh.
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Me: Thank you, Mary! Now you won't have to eat the rutabaga, thank goodness, since Harvey already ate it. Bad goat, Harvey, bad goat...
5. Kellie M., since one of the #goatposse people told me to tag her. So Kellie, yeah, you're tagged. Don't shoot me, I'm only the messenger.
I’m no good at math. Sigh.
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Me: Thank you, Mary! Now you won't have to eat the rutabaga, thank goodness, since Harvey already ate it. Bad goat, Harvey, bad goat...
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