When Tags are a Good Thing

I've been tagged! Actually, Typing Slave got tagged and I decided to respond instead of her, because she's boring.

The tag works thusly: You put 5 fantastical things in your blog and visitors guess which one is the lie. Since I don't like to obey rules, my visitors need to guess which one of the 5 things is NOT a lie -- about me in my current incarnation. And then guess as to which one is a lie about me in ANY of my incarnations!

1) I once sneezed and sneezed and sneezed so many times that one of the slaves picked me up and checked my nose. She found a tiny spot of green protruding from the nose, which she reasonably concluded was the cause of the sneezing fit. So she pulled it...and pulled it...and pulled it... Hey, can I help it if I like to eat grass like spaghetti and slurp it down? Big D was trying to climb a tree at the time of my grass eating, which looked really dumb so I started laughing, and next thing you know I had a 5 inch piece of grass making me sneeze.

2) You all know my widely publicized dislike of cats on my porch, and one time this grey and white tom, aka Moochy, really got on my last nerve. It was spring and the windows were open, with only a screen separating me from my prey. Shall we say the screen was insufficient? Yes, we shall! None of the other holes I've managed to tear in the screens were as big as that one! Soon the slaves are getting most of the screens replaced along with the roof due to "hail damage", courtesy of the insurance company. (Typing Slave insists that I add there is indeed a great deal of hail damage and who's to say the hail didn't damage the screens too?)

3) Once this pregnant stray cat came to stay at our house, aka The Interloper, living upstairs in the newly finished bonus room. Typing Slave let her come downstairs once to explore and she chased me down and bit my butt, which proceeded to swell and abcess, necessitating a trip to the vet, medicines, shots, booty shaving, etc.

So I beat up her kittens.

4) One day it was wet, icy and cold and Typing Slave had just gotten home. Not only was she carrying multiple awkward packages, but she had stupidly worn ugly, unseasonal clogs (NO, not Crocs, thank you very much). When I dashed out the door, as I am prone to do, she had major issues chasing me. In fact, while she was incapacitated by the ice in the alley, on her knees and sobbing because not only was she banged up and cold but her cat was gone, I ran back into the house through the open door, climbed into bed, and dried myself on her pillow.

5) Whenever I get my tongue on some milk, I puke a minimum of 8 times. It's such a fun game to drink Pink Thing's delicious cow juice, start heaving, and watch the slaves scatter like birds out of a tree to shut the bedroom doors before I can barf on the cream-colored carpets. (Typing Slave would like me to add that SHE did not choose cream colored carpets; the house came with them.) So instead I hurl on the brown carpets, preferably while they are cleaning up a previous pile or shutting bedroom doors, in such a way that the brown carpet disguises the barf and they have to step in it to find it.

I tag anyone who visits here and wants to play! Just be sure and comment here about it so we can guess what a liar YOU are....

MK