“Don’t Look at the Fat-Ass Losers and Freaks, Look at ME!”

August 27, 2008 at 9:20 am 13 comments

It seems KDiddy tagged me for a meme (wow, could I say “me” a bit more? ME! MEMEMEMEMEMMEEEEE!) that requires me to list six of my “quirks.” An interesting word, “quirk.” For it is widely known that only cute people have quirks, the rest of us are just annoying.

Oh my God, shut up Amelie.

However, just for today, let us all pretend that the things I am about to share with you are cute and endearing, instead of inconvenient and maddening and the primary reason Brad will be canonized for sainthood in the year 2009.

Here we go.

  1. I absolutely cannot stand to walk around in bare feet. Yes, with the exception of being at the pool or the beach, my freak ass needs shoes/slippers/flip-flops on at all times (socks are enough sometimes, but not all the time) – EVEN IN MY OWN HOUSE. It’s definitely gotten worse as I’ve gotten older, but even when I was young I remember trying to force myself to be one of those “I love being in my bare feet!” people, but it just wasn’t happening. The main reason for this is that I cannot STAND to step on anything whilst barefoot: crumbs (oh holy shit) and hair (GROSS) being the main culprits. This was a huge issue for me throughout college, when I had to be barefoot during my touchy-feely movement classes in a dance studio that was swept maybe once a week. It was a constant cringe-fest, the very worst incident being the time I stepped on a (HORRORS!) fingernail. Maybe it was a toenail, I don’t know. I was too busy trying to catch my skin after it crawled clear off my body and ran into traffic to make a proper identification.
  2. I hate throwing up, and will do anything to avoid it, including selling my first-born (and possibly yours) to the gypsies. Look, I know that no one likes throwing up. But me? I HATE IT. Even if I know it will make me feel better. In fact (and I hesitate to even share this, because I feel like I’m jinxing myself), I have not thrown up since 1984. When I was seven years old. And in the first grade. That’s 24 FUCKING YEARS AGO, OH MY LORD. I have even had the stomach flu and managed not to throw up (NOT EASY; I DO NOT RECOMMEND IT), and I know it can’t possibly be good for me, but at this point it’s just a habit. Also, I’m not really good around other people when they barf. Brad knows, for instance, that if he gets his arm cut off in a freak accident, I will be right there with my needle & thread, but if he throws up? Yeah, I’ll be at the mall. Good luck with that. [LET ME JUST GO AHEAD AND SAY WHAT ALL OF YOU ARE THINKING: This crazy whore hates throwing up, so she went and got herself pregnant with a child. You know, children: those little people who puke ALL THE TIME. Yeah, I know. I’m hoping love will blind me and I will be cured, immersion-therapy style. Can’t wait.]
  3. I can be weird about food. This is an effect of the puke-fear, and has gotten much better since I’ve aged, but when I was in 3rd grade, I found this book in the library entitled Germs Make You Sick! I’m not sure if it was curiosity or the bright, cartoonish illustrations that made me choose this book over the stacks of tomes on kittens and ponies and BFFs, but I took it home, read it, and became a hypochondriac for a little while. Thanks, literacy! Anyhoo, this book also taught me that, in addition to germs, bad food can make you sick (Jesus, who writes a book like this for kids? Thank goodness I avoided the sequel: Diseases Take Away Your Grandma!). Well, I had no idea about the concept of food poisoning up to this point, so I kind of…took things to the extreme. My mother spent a good chunk of my elementary school years just getting me to EAT YOUR GODDAMN DINNER ALREADY, THOSE BLACK SPECKS ARE JUST PEPPER, NOT A DEADLY, BRAIN-EATING MOLD. Like I said, I’ve chilled out about this quite a bit, but I’m still very careful about where I order meals that contain meat. And sushi? I pretty much only eat sushi at establishments where the Virgin Mary is preparing my sashimi on a bed of freshly minced cherubim.
  4. I get really touchy about the Elephant Man. Bear with me here. At some point in high school, I saw that movie about the Elephant Man on a cable movie channel, and it broke my heart into about 8 zillion tiny pieces. I checked out a few books at the library about John Merrick and his life (this was before the internet, kids! Where’s my nitroglycerin?), and got even more depressed when I learned all the immensely sad details of his short life. I guess it was because I came across this story during my emotional teen years, when I was particularly struck by all the DRAMA and ROMANCE and UNFAIRNESS of it all, but I took his story very, very personally. I didn’t really even tell anyone about how attached I was to the whole thing, but at one point I was on a road trip with the cast of an educational show about AIDS that used to travel from school to school (fuckin’ A, could this story get weirder?), and somehow, someone made a joke about the Elephant Man. And friends, I lost it. LOST IT. Full-on defensive, HOW-DARE-YOU mode. So, yeah, after that? It was a big joke that YOU DO NOT kid around about the Elephant Man in my presence. I’m not so sensitive about it anymore, but shit, now that I’ve recounted this whole story and looked him up on Wikipedia, I’m getting emotional all over again. HE IS NOT AN ANIMAL!!
  5. I have to touch the outside of the airplane before I board. Now, this isn’t something I really have to do, but more like something I like to do. In other words, you will not see me on the 5 o’clock news being tased by the TSA because I flipped out over not being able to touch the exterior of the plane before I boarded. It’s more of a little tradition than anything else, but it’s something I do every time I fly. Right when I make the step from the jetway to the plane, I put my hand on the outside of the plane, just to the right of the door. I guess it’s a little reminder to myself of how sturdy the plane is (in my mind, it’s made of balsa wood and rubber cement), and also a little Don’t-Let-Me-Down,-Son pat I give to an inanimate object because yes, I think we have already established that I am kind of insane.
  6. I suck at talking on the phone. Email? I love it. Face-to-face? Even better. Phone call? Uh…can’t you just email me? There’s just something so…anonymously high-pressure and immediate about telephone conversations that unnerves me to no end. I can’t see the other person’s face, I feel the constant need to fill any quiet pauses, and sometimes it’s just really fucking hard to end the conversation. This applies mostly to phone calls with people I don’t know, because I pretty much start out the entire conversation in a pre-flustered state, but it can be just as awkward with friends or family. And it’s made EVEN WORSE by cell phones and those FUCKING TIME DELAYS that cause the two people in the conversation to inadvertently start speaking at the exact same fucking time. HATE. What’s strange is that, until college, my main mode of communication with my friends and family and anyone who wasn’t standing directly in front of me was the telephone – and I talked on the phone A LOT. I can remember getting my own phone in my room when I was in 7th grade and talking to my best friend for HOURS. Of course, I can only imagine how stimulating those conversations were. Yikes.

“I wonder what it’s like to Do It!”

Next, I must pass the torch of this meme to…I think six people? Uh, I am not sure I know six of you who read this blog and HAVE a blog (and I don’t know if it’s proper etiquette to tag a lurker. Is it? Or will she hate me?). Well, let’s just go for it and see what happens, shall we? In the interest of getting to know some of you better, I tag:

  1. Laura
  2. Hills
  3. Julia
  4. Carrie
  5. Sara
  6. Shelli

Get to work, ladies! Tell me all the things that make you freakishly annoying quirky! Because really, there’s nothing cuter than a telephone-phobic, fully-shod, expiration-date-checking, airplane-touching, Elephant-Man loving vomit-holder-backer, is there?!

“Whatever, freak.”

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13 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Sara  |  August 27, 2008 at 9:45 am

    Damn! I was scared that you might tag me. Can I put that down as one of my quirks? (Incidentally, we share some quirks: I’m always wearing shoes/slippers around my own house (even when I’m wearing socks, actually), and I’m weird about food. Is it OK to share?)

    Reply
  • 2. kdiddy  |  August 27, 2008 at 10:19 am

    re: puking

    I am also adamantly anti-puke and will go to great measures to avoid it. however, it is very likely that you will barf at least once while you are pregnant. I managed to squeak past the morning sickness phase armed with gallons of ginger ale and a steely reserve, but as things got crowded in ye olde abdomene, sometimes things just…came out. the good thing about that kind of barfing, if you can call it good, is that there’s generally no nausea and therefore no dread. just mid-sentence pyrotechnics. like, “oh, we had a lovely time at the picnic! there was a pinata and hot dogs and HOOOOOOOORRRRFFFF! Oh…is that a new shirt? Sorry.”

    Also, your baby will barf constantly but it’s generally not as gross and adult barf with the chunks and the smell and the alcohol and the shame. After the first week or so, your precious little bundle will have doused every article of your clothing with spit up and you will take to just wearing off-white clothes so you don’t have to worry about the stains being so obvious. At least, that was my experience. your mileage may vary. n’at.

    Reply
  • 3. Sara  |  August 27, 2008 at 10:38 am

    Oh, kdiddy, that’s the worst part of adult barf: the shame. Oh, the shame!

    Reply
  • 4. MLE  |  August 27, 2008 at 11:09 am

    Oh my God Becky*, I thought I was the only one re: the Elephant Man. His life! It was so sad! (For me it was junior high, not high school, so read even more emotional and mood-swingy)

    *look at her butt, it is so big, she looks like one of those rap guys’ girlfriends…

    Reply
  • 5. shelli  |  August 27, 2008 at 11:49 am

    curses!

    Argh, OK, Sure, I’m game. But people have to answer my potty training question first. 😉

    Reply
  • 6. kristin  |  August 27, 2008 at 11:50 am

    Thank you for not tagging me. I would have done it, but I really don’t think anyone needs anymore ammunition for mocking me. I give you enough of that voluntarily.

    I don’t walk around barefoot either, but that has more to do with the constantly disgusting state of my floors than any phobia. Hey, YOU try to keep floors clean with dogs and cats running in and out and big man-boots tracking in sheep shit and straw every day. It is absolutely impossible. So, shoes, yes. Therefore, when you come visit me (YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO), your phobia will stand you in good stead.

    Reply
  • 7. hills  |  August 27, 2008 at 12:14 pm

    “Thank goodness I avoided the sequel: Diseases Take Away Your Grandma!” – this made me laugh.
    Being tagged? Did not make me laugh. It kind of made me hyperventilate.
    Hey, can that be one of my quirks? Being tagged makes me hyperventilate because I’m not as witty as others and my quirks won’t be funny, just crazy. Ha, I kid. Sort of.

    Reply
  • 8. jiveturkey  |  August 27, 2008 at 2:04 pm

    Sara: OF COURSE we can share quirks. This is the internet, baby! There are no rules! Free beer for everyone! I’m not wearing any pants!

    kdiddy: I was all excited when I read that you made it through morning sickness without puking, but the crowded-abdomen no-warning horfing? YIKES. Thank goodness none of you are ever in close physical proximity to me. Also, thanks for the encouraging words about baby puke. And I suppose if my baby’s puke DOES contain alcohol and shame, then I have bigger fish to fry.

    MLE: Let’s get together sometime soon and sob uncontrollably. Also, I know every single blessed word to ‘Baby Got Back.’ Are you me? But in convenient Denver form?

    Shelli: Sack up and write, woman! Sorry I can’t help you with the potty-training question. I once pooped my pants at a playground. (I was four…teen! HAHA! No really, I was 30.)

    kristin: I really wanted to tag you after you admitted to the thing about not wanting a new song to start playing before you turned off the car. But I figured you had suffered enough. (And yes, I totally want to visit, but again, I figured you have suffered enough.)

    hills: Girl, get to writing. Or don’t. See: Internet: No rules on, above. Now let’s all take off our pants!

    (I don’t know why I keep talking about taking my pants off, you guys. I am just really really really really tired. And not wearing any pants.)

    Reply
  • 9. Sara  |  August 27, 2008 at 3:41 pm

    Don’t you hate pants? (For those of you who don’t know where that quote is from, you’ll figure it out soon, since quoting from certain shows is one of my quirks, beloved by many, but really hated by most.) I’ve been writing down quirks to post all day, since for some reason I can get to your blog, JT, and probably everyone else’s who posts here but not my own during the day. (This has been going on for weeks, yet I keep trying to connect to it almost daily. Can that be considered a quirk? Am I quirkier than I thought? Can I just keep saying quirk? Perhaps I can use quirk like Smurf, replacing every other word with it. Or not.)

    Reply
  • 10. Leah  |  August 27, 2008 at 4:04 pm

    I’m glad you didn’t tag me because I’d have a hard time coming up with quirks different from the ones you already wrote about.

    We differ on the plane thing, though. I do my utmost to avoid looking at the outside of the plane while boarding because GAH, it’s so THIN, so FLIMSY, so LITTLE MATERIAL BETWEEN ME AND CERTAIN DOOM.

    The fact that you like to touch the plane because it reassures you = you are a total freak for sure.

    Reply
  • 11. » Quirktastic! However Absurd:  |  August 28, 2008 at 12:35 am

    […] I must wear shoes at all times. Like Jive Turkey, I almost always wear shoes or slippers around the house. I don’t really even like to just […]

    Reply
  • 12. Sara  |  August 28, 2008 at 10:13 am

    Woo-hoo! You added me to your blogroll! I can’t even tell you how much joy that brings me. I’m all a-quiver. (I’m hoping you wrote something way more witty on my blog; I can’t check it, though; frikkin’ IT bastards.)

    Reply
  • 13. hills  |  September 3, 2008 at 6:55 pm

    So I, uh, finally did this meme.
    *hangs head in shame*

    Reply

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