-R-! #3 was the lie.
I swear this is not a payback for being the winner of her contest. I used very scientific methodology to determine the winner. I wrote the names of the correct guessers on pieces of paper, balled them up, and attempted to throw them at a donut of scotch tape to see which one stuck. None of them stuck. I then tried a big piece of packing tape. None of them stuck. I THEN took a beautiful ceramic bowl given to me by my ex-sister-in-law, put it on the floor, closed my eyes and hurled the handful of paper balls at it. One went in. Bingo! (And I'm very sorry I don't have a camera phone--no photographic evidence exists of this sophisticated maneuvering.)
Anyway, -R-, you're the winner, and as I'm thinking of customing the prize a bit, I will be contacting you shortly via email to ask a couple of questions.
No, as multi-talented as I may or may not be, I can't tap dance to save my life. I am, however, a master of the mock time step--I can flap my arms around in a pretty accurate rendition of a time step, distracting the viewer completely (hopefully) from my pathetically flailing feet. Probably not enough to win a talent contest, though...even in the fourth grade.
#1 really happened. Back in the day, my small hometown was host every summer to the national parachuting championships. (And, one very exciting year, the international championships.) My father had his commercial pilot's license (small planes only), and used to spend hours every day hauling jumpers up and dropping them off, so we spent a lot of time hanging out and watching. Some of the contestants were remarkably accurate--they could hit that tiny target right square on the nose. Others were...not so much. One day I was toodling along, probably on my way to the concession stand, when I heard someone yelling from above "Hey! Look out!" I looked up--and right into the face of a way-off-target jumper, barrelling toward the earth--and me. I tried to run, but got caught by the lines and thumped to the ground. His body didn't actually land on top of me, thank goodness, and I wasn't hurt, but everyone who saw it came running, and there was a big fuss, and as I was the shyest child alive, I was completely humiliated (everyone's looking at me!) and just kept saying "I'm okay, I'm okay. Just let me go." The jumper was mortified, of course--I was probably only about 8 at the time. Good times all around. Heh.
#2 also happened, sad to say. I was doing a production of "Das Barbecu" a few years ago, the first musical I'd done in years. An evil virus worked its way through the cast during rehearsals, but didn't hit me until halfway through the run. "Das Barbecu," for those unfamiliar, is sort of "Greater Tuna"-like in that five actors play 30+ characters, and it's all rapid-fire quick costume changes and lots of mad dashes through the cross-over, in addition to the acting and singing and dancing. Thursday night I was suffering from a greatly scratchy throat, but managed to get through the show. Friday night the voice was on its way out, despite my panicked trip to the doctor for emergency steroids ("I want the shot Madonna gets!), a great deal of Throat Comfort tea and sucking down the contents of a honey bear between every scene, and I ended up dramatically speaking my last two power ballads. It was an absolutely miserable experience. Saturday the voice was gone. G-O-N-E, gone. I had no understudy, of course (ah, the beauty of community theatre) and there was no way anyone could learn the ins and outs of all the rapid changes on short notice, so we...improvised. The music director sang my songs from her place at the piano, the stage manager read my lines from the side of the stage, and I did all the movement. Yes, I mimed the entire show--songs and spoken dialogue. I'm told from the back half of the theatre you almost couldn't tell it wasn't all me. (Although we had made an announcement to the audience, of course.) And, actually, compared to the misery of the previous night, it was kind of fun. I just kicked back and went with it! Okay, it was not so fun that I'd ever want to do it again, mind you, but the show must go on!
So there you have it. Two truths and a lie. Thanks for playing!