Tuesday, May 24, 2005

I'm a Freak of Nature, Walking Totem Pole (or Things I'm Weird About)

I've said it before, but I have to repeat it frequently, mostly the the Mr.: don't touch my freaking ankles. I blame a lady at the grocery store who hit my right ankle with her cart when I was 7, thus mangling said ankle, causing great pain and leaving me forever terrified of things near my ankles.

I prefer to be early to everything, by at least 5 minutes if possible. I stress out if I'm late for being early. Showing up right on time is so slack!

Don't crinkle paper around me. I swear I will lose it. This has to be from hearing people crinkle paper at the theater when I was younger (Childhood trauma again! Such a rough life!), thus rendering me unable to hear key bits of dialogue and leaving me extremely irritated. It's happened enough that now whenever I hear paper crinkling anywhere, in any context, I get so tense I feel as though my head might explode. Nails on the chalkboard. It's weird, isn't it? But it's not as weird as the guy I knew in college who got all freaked out by cotton balls.

I must get ready in this order: hair, makeup, clothes. Doing anything out of this order will throw off my entire day and, I suspect, throw the earth right off its axis.

I need to eat regular M&Ms in pairs, and preferably each pair should be the same color. Peanut M&Ms should be eaten one by one.

Whenever I pass a package of something squishy in the store and no one is looking, I must squish it to placate my inner 3-year-old. I squish until it cannot be squished anymore, or when someone makes me stop. In which case, I get in one last good squish before doing so.

I always have a tube of Dr. Pepper lip gloss in my hand or in my pocket if it's not feasible to carry a purse. Just like Bob Dole and the pen. Er, sort of.

When driving alone, the car does not leave the parked position until the perfect song that suits the mood is located. Tonight on the way home it was "Eli, the Barrow Boy" by the Decemberists. It's such a nice late-night, driving home song. And a little depressing, yeah.