300

As I understand it, 300 is an adventure epic that one Rotten Tomatoes reviewer says "is full of violence and testosterone and fills in the story holes with gorgeous slaughter." This post contains no violence, testosterone, or slaughter (gorgeous or otherwise), but I do want it to be epic in some way. It is, after all, my 300th post on Stefanie Says, and surely that's worthy of some sort of fanfare, no? So in honor of my 300th post, I thought I'd list 300 things you might not already know about me.

Relax. I'm just kidding. The 100 in my sidebar are most definitely more than enough.

Instead, I'll tell you just five things you might not know about me. Perhaps you've seen this "Interview me" meme that's going around. After 299 posts, I am apparently running short on ideas, so when Poppy offered to hand out some questions, I said, "OK, hit me with a few." It's kind of like a Barbara Walters special, except it won't take an hour, and there won't be any crying (I hope). Oh, and Poppy has better hair (in my opinion, anyway).

The "rules" (because just like a mass-forwarded email, there are always rules, right?) stipulate that to keep this game going, I must offer to interview any of you in return. If I don't, I will have bad luck for five years and my hair will fall out and I most likely will not have a date for the rest of the decade. (Given my track record, that last one might actually not be so bad.) Anyway, if you want to play along, see the rules at the end and I'll be happy to oblige. Meanwhile... on to the questions!

Here's what Poppy wants to know:


1. You said I was a lightweight when I got totally plastered on a bottle of wine. How much wine do you drink on a regular basis?! And what's your favorite? And why?

OK, define "regular basis." I almost never have wine with breakfast! Or even lunch! Really! All right, seriously... this varies depending on the week, the mood, the events, etc. I have put away a whole bottle more than once three times, however, and been not too worse for wear the next day. The secret is to start early and to pace yourself. If you pour the first glass with dinner at 6:00 and finish the last of it off after midnight, you can rise with only the slightest of headaches the next morning. Or, rather, you can if you're not an amateur (which is what I actually called you, Poppy, though I suppose "lightweight" is close enough). Then again, being a lightweight just means you're a cheap date, and that actually comes with its own set of benefits, I suppose.

As for my favorites... I generally prefer red to white, but as I've said before, I'm not too picky. (I'll even drink a fine Mer-lott on ice, after all.) For my birthday, my friend Gregorlee* brought me a Trapiche Oak Cask Argentinian Malbec that was noticeably awesome enough that I'm holding on to the bottle so I can remember it and buy more, but generally just about any red will do. And when I'm feeling concerned that my teeth might start to look like tiny gray bits of gravel jutting out of my gums, I'll drink just about any white instead (Riesling, Pinot Grigio, Sauvignon Blanc, and the like). No Chardonnay, however. That and baseball are two of the few things I do not have in common with Red at all.

* Not his real name, but it amuses me no end anyway.


2. How much does it impact your daily life that your parents were comedians like mine and spelled your first name phonetically?

My daily life? Not much. I was much more annoyed by it when I was younger, when I had to spell it out for every teacher and doctor and dentist in my life and when personalized erasers, pins, and bike license plates were big and not a single rack anywhere had my name spelled right. What bothers me, actually, is the reason my mom gives for choosing that spelling. "We thought it would be easier for you," she says. Sure, Mom. Having to spell out my name for every person I ever meet is definitely easier than learning that "ph" sounds like "f." Also, thanks for the vote of confidence that your daughter might not grow up quite intelligent enough to handle anything but a phonetic spelling of her name.

I'm exaggerating, obviously. It doesn't really bother me at all. At this point, I kind of like having a unique spelling. And it could be worse, after all. A co-worker recently forwarded me an email from a woman named "Stefnee" with the comment, "This spelling's even weirder than yours." True enough, co-worker. Poor Stefnee indeed.


3. If you could have only movies, books, or music, which would you choose and why?

I respectfully refuse to answer this question on the grounds that it might make my head explode.

What? That's not allowed? All right, fine; I'll choose movies, but it's a really, really hesitant choice. And if I try to explain "why," I'll likely change my mind again, so I'm just going to move on now, OK?


4. If you had to lose one of your five senses, which would it be and why?

I'm going to go with smell, because I think my sense of smell is already weaker than most people's (inhalant abuse as a kid--just kidding) and because my mom actually has no sense of smell and seems to cope with it just fine. Giving up sight or hearing is not an option (going blind is actually one of my biggest mostly irrational fears), and we already know from those monkey studies that being without touch creates all sorts of problems for development and emotional stability. Taste would be the one I'd give up after smell... I'd obviously eat a lot less if I couldn't taste anything, but is life without pizza, brownies, and ice cream really worth living, skinny or not? It's a tough call.


5. Let's pretend you know the future and you learn that your soul mate is a man 20 years your senior who is bald, missing a few teeth, out of shape, and has tattoos. Would you accept this soul mate, fall madly in love with him, and live happily ever after OR would you reject him and live your life alone?

If I know the future, then presumably I'm not going to meet this bald, toothless fatty for a while yet, right? In that case, I guess I'd have fun with trim, younger men for a while, knowing my fate was already sealed somewhere down the line. If he's my soul mate, then that means I would fall for him despite any conventional charms he's lacking, so I suppose I would somehow be unbothered by all that. Then again, maybe "soul mate" doesn't mean "life partner" or "lover" necessarily. A friend can be a soul mate. It doesn't mean you're meant to be with that soul mate forever or in a romantic way. Liz Gilbert actually has an excellent passage about soul mates in Chapter 48 of Eat Pray Love (which is an amazing book, by the way, that I cannot stop recommending to everyone I know), but perhaps I will save that for the inevitable write-up when I'm finally finished with that one.


Bonus Question: Who's your favorite Poppy?

Why, YOU, of course. And certainly not just because you're the only one I know.



OK, now the rules. (I told you there were rules, right?) If you want to play, too, just read and abide by the following:

1. Leave me a comment (with your email address, if I don't already have it) saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Simple enough, right? I thought so.