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LONG BEACH (coup2k.com) March 6, 2001 -- The Diva has owned up to her blackness, her fringe-idity, and has even admitted to being a Texan, and a liberal. Now, in the most shocking revelation to date, The Diva divulges her deviance.
Perhaps this is another side effect of Post-Coup Stress Disorder, but I am ready to come a little further out of the closet, and admit to being a deviant. Oh, I know what you are thinking, "We already knew THAT!" But you didn't, not really, so here goes:
Hi, I'm Tammy, and I'm a deviant.
I don't like to shop. I hate shopping. I make my boyfriend do that. Look, I'll scoop a dirty cat box, detail the car, even watch "The Capital Gang," quicker than I'll go to the store without a fight. Don't get me wrong; I have shopped. I'll even do it on my own, sometimes, around the holidays, but I don't like it. And what's worse, I don't understand the thrill others find in it.
I don't want a Lexus, BMW, or Mercedes. I drive a Saturn. I like my Saturn. If I had a gazillion dollars, I'd still like my Saturn. I might upgrade to the one with the moon roof, maybe, but that's about it. Do you want to know what I think when I see a car that costs over $30,000? I think, "Oh my god! That car cost over $30,000!!!" I don't think, "Gee, I'd sure like to have one of those," I think, "Man, I'm sure glad I don't want one of those!"
I think boxing is nuts. I don't get it. I can't figure out how it can be legal, actually. Basically, as I understand it, it is illegal to beat someone up unless you are acting in self-defense. It is also illegal to beat someone up for money. And yet -- we have boxing. Whenever I surf past a boxing match, for instance on HBO, it makes me queasy. I feel sorry for the guys in the ring. I can't understand how a tape of two guys beating each other up (for real) isn't obscene, but a tape of two people pretending to get jiggy is.
I have the Circadian rhythms of a raccoon. I prefer to stay up all night and sleep during the day. According to my mother, I have always been this way. As she tells it, when I was a baby, I would play quietly with my toys in my crib at night, and go to sleep around sun-up. As for me, I don't remember ever being any other way. I get my second wind at about 8 or 9 at night, and that's when I feel the best, and I'm raring to go. Noon to me probably feels the same way 3 a.m. feels to most other folks. I'm nocturnal. An owl.
I have a Samson complex, and not just about me. I like long hair. I like it on everyone, male or female. To my eye, short hair looks funny -- unnatural. I hate getting my hair cut. I don't like anyone near my head with a pair of scissors. When I do get my hair cut (or more often, cut my own hair), I feel weird for days. I sort of have to work up to it, to cut it.
I don't like sports, except for BattleBots, if that even counts. I watched a ton of football with my dad growing up, and I loved spending that time doing that with him, but as soon as I left home for college, I stopped cold. I went to Texas A&M, where football is a religion, but I only went to one game in four years, and only because my roommate Laura's parents came down for Thanksgiving, and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. I have also never understood, AT ALL, why sports coverage is part of every regular newscast. Personally, I'd like to see the "News-Weather-Sports" lineup become the "News-Weather-Furry Mammals" line-up. I'd like to see all the sports reporters be replaced with Jack Hanna clones. Come to think of it, you could throw out the weather part, too, and I wouldn't mind in the least.
Now, here comes the serious part...
NEXT: PART 2: MORE SHOCKING REVELATIONS!
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