So, Moo tagged me and I've never responded to anyone's tags ever. But, when it asks for quirks, I finally think I might have a few. It asks for 6. You'll get what I can think of.
1. This is the oddest one. I can't stand the saxophone. At all. I had a creepy, depressing and deeply personal dream when I was grade school aged and it fed on all my saddest and worst fears. The background music (I've never had background music since, good or bad) was "You belong to the city." It is now the saddest, creepiest song I know of. Any music that falls into that general category gives me the willies, the sads, the ickies, etc. Saxophone music does that for me. Not New Orleans happy jazz stuff, but other stuff. Anyway, I can't explain it, but I can't bear it. Literally. I will leave a store that is playing it. I will ask waitresses to change the station. I will tell traveling saxophone... wait, that never happened.
2. I don't like milk. I don't like to watch people drink milk. I don't like to smell the milk to see if its still good. I will pour milk down the drain if there is the remotest chance of it being yucky. I can eat cereal, but with so little milk that you can't see it beneath the cereal. This stems, I believe, from grade school when we had snacks and kids would drink out of their mini-cartons and smack their lips and have milk strands. Eww. I almost dry heaved just now.
3. I like sitting in my closet. I haven't done this in a very long time. But, sometimes, I just want to sit in a small closet and close the door. Maybe I'm autistic.
4. I leave terrible phone messages. I become unintelligible, wordy, emotional, giggly, terse, defensive, foreign, etc. I don't really like talking on the phone at all, with a few exceptions.
5. I'm not afraid of spiders, insects or snakes. I'm completely, 100%, over the top, viscerally repulsed by rodents. I have a fear that they'll jump in my mouth. Or something. This was humorously played out on a Simpson's episode where a rat did indeed jump in Milhouse's mouth. I wanted to cry.
6. I don't like chocolate cake. I won't even try cottage cheese. Or frog-eyed salad. Or yogurt that has the fruit on the bottom. Or cheap orange juice. Or fried eggs in which the yolk has cooked. I'll throw it out and start again.
This email has made me sick and sad. No more tags for me.
5 comments:
Thanks for answering! I learned several things that I didn't know about you. I didn't know that answering questions would make you so ill:)
Tags are like sounds from little sheepies... bbbbaaaaaaaaaaddddd.
I also like sitting in closets. I'd actually forgotten about that until you mentioned it, though.
I got a kick out of your tag. I am the same way about rodents. Count me out! Also, how exciting that your little fella is kicking! Not much longer!
I love milk.
I can't eat a fried egg with yucky raw gooey yellow stuff in the middle - it has to be cooked through!
I'm so grateful for the invention of e-mail. I'm not much more coherent, but at least I can read it over before I press send. Much better than phone messages!
I won't try cottage cheese either. It's right up there with sour cream and cream cheese and ranch dressing. If we're eating dinner and there's a bottle of ranch dressing on the table, I'll ask the kids to please pass it down to the opposite end, so I won't have to smell it. The smell alone makes me ill.
I fall asleep during almost every DVD we watch.
My closets are too crowded to sit in. Not that I've ever had that inclination. Just FYI.
I have no rhythm. My piano teacher is valiantly trying to teach me, but it's hopeless. Intellectually, I get it. I can break down every measure mathematically, and see how it should fit together. (Well, maybe not quite every measure). But I can't keep a metronome ticking in my head - I can't really tell when I'm getting faster or slower. She put her metronome on one day, and she claims I sped up during my song, while I insisted that her metronome was slowing down - maybe the batteries were dying. She just laughed.
I generally prefer to listen to NPR over music.
I'm sorry about the saxophone thing.
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