Saturday, March 10, 2007

Six weird things about me...

Or how I started to write these out and realized that I'm a freak.

I was tagged a long time ago by Pam and Snow Wonder to list 6 weird things about me. And since I can’t write about work and I won’t write about my dipshit of an STBX and the divorce, I guess I can list 6 weird things. Or I can narrow down my list to 6. Or perhaps I have to scrounge to find 6. Your call.

In no particular order:

1. I am not fond of water… in my face. I don’t swim. And I will take a bath over a shower, and when I take a shower, I would prefer NOT to face the showerhead. A towel is always nearby to wipe off errant droplets. I am not a freak. I just never learned to put my face in water. I don’t want to hear any crap about it either. On my agenda for this my 50th year is TAKE SWIMMING LESSONS.
2. I have triskadeskaphobia. Fear of the number 13. Again, I don’t wanna hear any crap out of your guys. I do not like Friday the 13th, but I am not frozen in my seat that day. I often forget it’s that day until some dipwad brings it up and then it’s not pretty. I had one child on the 10th of the month and the other one on the 16th, clearly 3 days either side of the 13th. And no, nothing bad has ever happened to me on Friday the 13th (except for that one in ’78 when I saw a dog get hit by a car right in front of me, but I was weird long before that). I moved to my new place on Saturday the 14th of October because there was no way I was going to move on Friday the 13th. If anything bad had happened, it would have been because of that. This year I will be flying on Friday the 13th so I guess I better get over it. Not happy. Pray for me. Pray for the pilot. Pray for the plane.
3. I don’t do seeds. I don’t do seedy fruit. Is this a phobia? Seedaphobia? Now because it is not recognized by the APA, it has provisions. For instance, I like bananas, and people give me crap that they have seeds. Not visible seeds. Strawberries are way off limits except in daquiries. I don’t bite into peaches or plums. I cut apples into sections. I’m just now believing that seedless grapes actually have no seeds. (For years I didn’t really believe the advertisement.) Navel oranges are the best invention. And don’t give me a piece of watermelon until you take out all the seeds so, yes, I have to wait a while before I eat watermelon. None of this makes sense. It’s all in my head. I have nothing on which to base this fear. I have one sister with the same phobia so perhaps it’s hereditary to which I have no control.
4. I cannot kiss anyone in the morning without first brushing my teeth. Of course, that hasn’t been a problem during my marriage. There was no kissing. But it could be an issue in the future. At least, I’m hoping.
5. I put silverware in the dishwasher according to type. All forks in a compartment, all spoons. Well, you get the idea. And all utensils a placed in the compartment facing up as a friend of my daughter’s taught me. He washed dishes in a restaurant so I consider him a professional. This also encouraged the kid to help put the dishes away because they could just grab a whole grouping and put them in the right place. Clever, huh? You may borrow my idea.
6. I have to read a newspaper in order. The best Christmas gift I got this year was a subscription to the St. Louis Post Dispatch to be delivered to my new place (120 miles away). I love reading the paper, and I am fine with sharing the paper. But I have to read it in the right order. Don’t hand me the “Everyday” portion and expect me to read it before the “Metro” section, or, God forbid, anything is read before the news section. Is this weird?
7. I’m one of those weird people who reads death notices. (Which are different than obits. Do you want the lesson now or later?) I don’t read all of them. I just peruse. In my defense, one of my volunteer jobs at my former church was to send birthday cards and anniversary card to the “old” people at my church, and I didn’t always get notified when they died. It’s never good to send a birthday card to a dead person, and it is devastating to send an anniversary card to a couple when one of them is dead. So I don’t want to hear any crap from y’all. But I do love reading whether a person “walked into Heaven’s gate,” passed into God’s care,” “passed peacefully in the arms of Jesus,” or “fell asleep with Jesus.” I am wondering what mine will read.
8. I was not allowed to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a child and, therefore, did not have one until I was an adult. Nummy. My mother insisted that they did not go together and only allowed peanut butter and mayonnaise (Miracle Whip) sandwiches. And before you say “Eewwwww,” don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.
9. And while we’re on the subject of things not allowed, I was not allowed to have Barbie dolls. I didn’t whine much about it. We were poor and once my Mother’s foot was put down about something, we rarely bugged her. Her reasoning, and I can totally understand it, was that she sewed clothes for her 4 daughters and she wasn’t about to sew clothes for that tiny emaciated waif. Can’t blame her. In turn, I did not allow my daughters to have Barbies but for a totally different reason. I was not going to allow my daughters to have a doll that had better housing and cars than I did. On a political level, I did not want to subject my children to those skinny bitches who had nothing better to do than drive a Porsche and stand on those unbearably uncomfortable heels all day. Like their mother, my daughters never balked (although some of their friends thought they were weird). My friends did not think it weird. I was not allowed to have any friends come to the house since we were living in (OH DEAR GOD) a divorced house. Subsequently, my 40th birthday was celebrated with Barbies all over the place. Naked Barbies. Wonder what these friends will do for my 50th???
10. Finally, my last one isn’t so weird. It’s a puzzlement. In my new life I am discarding much of my old underwear. Losing 50 lbs and starting a new life will do that to a person. Now here’s where it gets weird. The granny panties and underwear with holes or rips are going in the trash. But do I throw them away when they are clean and in my drawer? Or do I wear them one more time and throw them out afterwards? And is it weird that I am worried that the garbage man is going through the garbage and finding my discarded granny panties in either condition?

Labels:

11 Comments:

At 12:13 PM, Blogger Leesa said...

Peanut Butter and Mayo??

Ewwwwwwwwwww. :P

 
At 3:06 PM, Blogger Michael said...

Nice to see you posting again. You've been missed.

Take Care
Michael

 
At 7:40 PM, Blogger Wendy said...

Granny panties??? Oh dear Lord woman!! Do NOT wear them again, clean or not. Get your butt out there, buy some new pretty panties and TOSS them other ones!

I have a friend who eats peanut butter and mayo too. I have yet to try it.

 
At 6:30 AM, Blogger greekchickie said...

I fear Friday the 13th as much as you do... I freak out on that date. You're FLYING on that day?! OMG.

They make seedless watermelon down here! It's DELISH!

The dishwasher ~ I do the same thing! I get irked when people don't do that to theirs.

#10 ~ pitch them CLEAN!

M~

 
At 9:47 AM, Blogger PLANET3RRY said...

So what toys did you allow your kids to play with? I got to play with the non-political GI Joe, and now that I have achieved adult status, I don't go out trying to defeat Cobra and stop their take over of the world. I don't own a bazooka And there isn't a Sherman Tank parked in my front yard either... best thing that I got out of them was that I now know that "Knowing is Half the Battle"

I would say that since you starting a new section of your life, that you get new underwear. Comfortable, sexy underwear that make you feel good everytime you put them on, as a reminder... this is your NEW life!

I (standing) applaud you for learning how to swim. If there is ever a sprint triathlon in your area, I want us to be a team... you do the swim, I'll take care of the run and bike... so when are you signing up for your lessons?

 
At 5:48 PM, Blogger greekchickie said...

Oh! And a BIG congratulations to you for losing 50lbs! My gosh, that's wonderful!

M~

 
At 12:46 PM, Blogger Silent One ~D~ said...

Underwear advice from P3... tsk tsk tsk... what has the world come too. LMAO

I hate the water. I will shower... but hate water in my face.
I applaud you for taking lessons. I don't even think I can get into a pool... i am so scared.

I don't eat things with seeds either.... makes me gag!

kissing....??? what is that???

and don't get me started on the dishwasher... I am always constantly rearranging the items inthere... I am nuts about it.

Ok I will stop there...LOL
great list chick!!!

still giggling at the panty advice from P3...

oh and CONGRATS on losing 50 pounds!! WoooHoooo

 
At 1:05 AM, Blogger Pilot Mom said...

50 pounds?!!! Congrats girl! How did you do it? Please tell...either email or respond here. I'll check back if no email is forthcoming...

That is really a great achievement! That's how much I need to lose. Give me hints!

 
At 5:45 AM, Blogger Route66 said...

I was born on Wed. the 13th, and my father was born on Fri. the 13th. Come to think of it, he was pretty darned lucky his entire life.

Glad to see you posting again!

 
At 6:40 PM, Blogger Laura said...

It’s never good to send a birthday card to a dead person..

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

I know. Really, it's not funny. But dammit, IT'S FUNNY!
~L.

 
At 4:48 PM, Blogger Fluxedup said...

It is great to see you post again... although I am WAY late in getting to my reply. It took me for ever to get the time to read your post.

So I think I can help you with some of these problems.
1) Tresdedictheadaphobia. Now if you will look closely at this word it is clearly a compound word with Spanish origins. The first part ‘Tres’ is the number three. This explains the misconception that this word has to do with a number with three in it, in this case the number thirteen. Next ‘de’ more Spanish roots meaning “Of”. So now we have “Three of” as prefix. In common English this translates to “triple”. You see this in many applications. In porn movies they are Triple X or XXX rated. Frequently you see Three X’s on bottles of moonshine. There is even a beer in Mexico labeled XXX. We get the XX version her in America, Dos XX; perhaps you are familiar with it. Roughly translated means triple strength
2) The next part of the word is pretty self explanatory. Dickhead. We all know what a Dickhead is. Some of us are Dickheads others of us have had something to do with Dickheads. Now there are two types of Dickheads. The first and most obvious is the Dickheadmoronusmotorus, the poor driver. The prefix Dickhead can be used in a myriad of words but the meaning brought to the word used with Dickhead as a prefix typically refers to someone, typically , with less than desirable traits expressed in a variety of ways. The other Dick head is well you probably know that without too much further explanation. And again some of you have one and others of you have had something to do with one. This has nothing to do with Teresdedickheadaphobia though… for the most part although there are instances where this occurs.
3) The last part of the word we are all pretty familiar with also. Phobia. Being Phobic is to have an irrational fear of something. Flying and swimming are just a couple examples. Hydrophobia or more commonly known as Rabies expresses itself as the name would imply as an extreme fear of water.

So when you break the word down to its principal elements you can see that Tresdedickheadaphobia is simply the fear of a real Dickhead. Who doesn’t fear and or hate the Dickhead?

As for the panties. wear them ziplock them up and auction them off on ebay. Failing that buy a metal wash tub, toss them in with some lighter fluid and light them up. AFTER the flames are out stand over the tub and have a pee. (Besure to have consumed several beers or a bottle of champagne which ever suits your taste to generate a solid need to pee, race horse style) Stir the mixture up let dry (outside) Scrape up the remains and ziplock them up and have a burial of the past that shall not be welcome back...

just my two... ok twenty cents worth.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home