The wins beneath my wings
Meet the winners of my 100th comment contest:
For starters, we should all feel betrayed because her name isn’t “Elle.” I mean, jeez, you think you know a person when she randomly wins a half-ass contest on the blog you write semi-anonymously, and then next thing you know, blindsided. Apparently – and really, who can believe anything she says ever again now that our circle of trust has been shattered? – Elle’s in the miltary and can’t risk having this life-changing achievement traced back to her because of the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. And *this* is why President Obama must chuck that law – so proud gay winners at home and abroad no longer are forced to serve in silence by hiding their faux-interweb accolades from fellow soldiers and commanding officers. This one’s a no-brainer, Mr. President.
Her real name – yeah, she told it to me, because I’m the bestest secret-keeper ever – kind of rhymes with Sigourney, so as I was searching for a gift fit for a winner/liar, I kept asking myself, Would Sigourney Weaver like this? As I quickly discovered, Sigourney Weaver is extraordinarily finicky and nearly impossible to please. Then again, she has earned that right, because although she sometimes struggles with truth-telling, she can communicate with endangered gorillas and an oozy alien once hatched from her solar plexus. I’m so incredibly honored to have badass-yet-sensitive Sigourney Weaver defending my country and reading my blog.
Signourney Weaver is 27 years old, 5’10” and has two cats, Gizmo and Looly. She is unable to commit to a favorite color and lives in San Diego, Calif., with her girlfriend. I don’t know what the girlfriend’s name is; obviously, names aren’t Sigourney Weaver’s strong suit. To celebrate her uncanny knack for commenting, I am sending her Cat Bingo. Now she can love and win openly, with two to six players ages 3 and up, without fear of retribution or discharge. Many, many thanks for all you do, Sigourney Weaver. Isabel, Teva and I salute you.
I love Tonya – whose real name is Tonya, as far as I know – because she sent me a mini-autobiography that made no mention of her husband, her child or the town in which she lives. This is *just* like the time Hilary Swank forgot to thank her spouse, Chad Lowe, when she scored her first Academy Award for “Boys Don’t Cry,” and then they split six years later. As a preventative measure, you might want to consider couples therapy.
Tonya skillfully blogs, has three art degrees, once lived on a hippie commune in Texas, doesn’t like to fly, is afraid of rats and hopes to stave off Alzheimer’s. It might be too late for that, seeing as how she forgot to mention her loved ones in her acceptance e-mail. Tonya, if you’re reading this now, I know the truth hurts, but on the bright side you probably won’t remember it in a few minutes.
“I’m lactose-intolerant (which, is just the world’s way of shitting on me since I LOVE pizza), stupid people-intolerant (I think they should all be sent to a Leper colony; they’re stupid so it’s not likely they’ll find their way home), and intolerant people-intolerant,” she writes.
On her blog, she suggested I reward her with a pony, a vacation or an RV. I couldn’t in good conscience send any of those prizes to someone who suffers from early onset dementia. That would have been a lawsuit waiting to happen. Fortunately, I thought of something even better that combines all the banes of her existence – a DVD of the movie “Milk” starring Sean Penn as gay civil rights activist Harvey Milk. In this rare case, the dairy won’t disrupt your bowels, but the homophobia will. Lactaid’s effectiveness at combating digestive discomfort caused by bigotry is still unknown, but it’s worth a shot. Nonetheless, enjoy Tonya, and thanks for keeping your mind active by reading my blog. It doesn’t seem to be helping, though. You might want to try Sudoku instead.
Congratulations to my two winners!
And a big thank-you to all the losers who failed. I mean, the other lovely, perfectly capable people who commented but succeeded at not winning. It’s apparent I missed my calling in life to be a contest coordinator … until now.