Quirk #13

I have a tendency to get caught in a nasty tornado of the "what if's."

This is something that, as much as I've tried, I don't completely have control over. I've tried to train myself not to do it. My psychiatrist has tried to medicate the habit out of me. So far, the only thing that works is complete and total avoidance of the world around me. This of course works, because if I'm not aware of the things I would worry about, I don't worry about them.

Unfortunately, the avoidance technique isn't a permanent solution. I mean, I can avoid things for only so long, and then there they are, back full force -- if not more so than before.

Writing it all down seems to help a little bit more than the avoidance technique, but if someone happens across my brain spillage (thats what I call it when I do that -- see last post for example), they get all sorts of worried, or take things out of context, or don't realize that its just me spewing out everything that happens to be in my head at the moment.

It's for that reason that I used to keep a journal, but no longer really do. The last time I kept a journal, it was read by someone, and the idiocies inside of it were used against me. Now I try to write in public, and only write the things I'm okay with other people knowing. That restriction makes it a lot less theraputic than it used to be.

But back to the what-ifs.

I start with something relatively straight forward, and then my mind goes into overdrive predicting all the things that can go wrong. This used to happen with everything in my life, not just the understandably scary things. Heck, it used to happen with things as basic as doing the laundry. What if all the machines are full? What if I run out of quarters? No, I have enough quarters. What if the machine breaks? What if someone decides to be bitchy and move my laundry before I go down to get it? What if management decides, for once, to enforce the curfew on the laundry room? What if, what if, what if? -- scream --

I've gotten it under control enough now though, that the what-ifs only strike when a situation is much more serious. The whole abnormal cell thing, for example. What if it's pre-cancerous again? What if it's cancer this time? What if it was cancer before, but the doctors were incompetent? What if I have to have surgery again? What if I have to have a hysterectomy? What if it's a radical hysterectomy? What if I want kids later on? What if, what if, what if? -- scream --

And the thing about it is, I can't get past it until I've worked out both my emotional and active responses to each and every what-if that comes to mind. Only then, after I've rehearsed all those things, can I sit myself down and actually take care of things. It can be crippling at times. It drives other people insane sometimes. Heck, it drives me insane. But there's just no getting around it. My brain kicks into emotional overdrive, and it won't shut off until I've appeased it appropriately.

Telling myself "I'll deal with that if it happens" doesn't work, because then my brain says "What if you put off thinking about it, and then when it does actually come up, you're caught completely unprepared, huh? Then what? Huh? Huh? Huh?!"

*sigh*

It's remarkably exhausting. And it seems to be all I'm doing lately -- if I'm not in avoidance mode, playing Wii or WoW.

Quirk #12

I am a total foodie.

I mean this in the good sense of the word, not that I'm a food snob -- although, I think maybe I AM a food snob... Um. Okay, yes, I'm a food snob. But I have full right to be. I went to culinary school. I know how to cook like a 5 star chef. I invent my own recipes, and they're actually restaurant worthy. I'm familiar with an incalculable number of types of cuisines -- not just what they should taste like, but how to cook them as well.

To me, good food can be better than the most amazing sex you could ever dream of, and I'm happy with that. Of course, this all means that I weigh a bit more than I should... Meh. Who gives a crap. Its not like I weigh 3 metric tonnes or anything.

So last night, after searching for a new apartment, we're driving through this village in the berkeley hills (yes, it really is a village), and we pass by this little bistro that looks charming. I'd been there for lunch before, but not for dinner, so I figure we should try out their dinner menu.

To my surprise, what during lunch time is a charming cafe with reasonable prices and a simple menu, becomes at night a 5 star french californian cuisine restaurant with a prix fixe menu that you have to know a fair amount about food and the french language to decipher.

Personally, I was in heaven the moment I saw that.

I was above heaven the moment I saw that they make their own pate (I can't figure out how to make the little accent thingies, so that looks wrong... ).

So we ordered a 3 course meal. And yes, it was actual courses. Like really. Complete with the table being reset between the entree' and dessert.

The pate was amazing. They used sage in it, and I've never tasted a better pate in my life.

I had the pacific halibut, which was served over a rice pilaf and topped with wilted escarole and shallots, garnished with a baked fig. The whole thing was surrounded by just the perfect amount of a butter and lemon sauce, which I HAVE to figure out how to make.

The BF got a roast chicken leg roulade, again over rice pilaf, topped with wilted spinach and shallots.

I ate too much. I ate way too much. But because it was all cooked to perfection, and from the freshest local ingredients (many of them organic apparently), I did not feel weighed down at all. Which was a good thing, mind you, because we hadn't had dessert yet.

Dessert was classically french. An artisan cheese platter made up of locally made goat and cow's milk cheeses that I cannot for the life of me remember the names of (probably because I couldn't have pronounced them without tying my tongue in a knot). They were small, and amazing, and one was crusted with ash, another was crusted with grape leaves, and the third was just a normal white crust, and it came with a little bunch of champagne grapes... AH.

We didn't order any wine... We should have though. That would have just made the evening beyond perfect. As it was though, it was better than sex, and I have never been happier with a restaurant in my life. I took their card so we could make reservations for the next time we want to go there. Turns out that we were insanely lucky to get a table without a reservation as they were, other than our one table, booked solid. I mean, turning people away at the door booked solid.

Not that I'm surprised. It was $100 well spent (yup. Dinner for 2, $100 USD. You read it right), and I don't regret one single penny. In fact, I kind of wish we'd spent more, as it would have meant more amazing food.

Am I using the word "amazing" often enough? LOL.

Quirk #11

I hate door to door salesman types.

I know they don't do that much anymore, but Comcast Cable has this really horrible practice of knocking on every door of an apartment complex that they have even one customer in, trying to recruit the rest of us.

My normal response to this activity while I'm at home is to politely tell them to fuck off, as I have satellite which is about 100 times better, and 100 times cheaper as well. In fact, the last guy who banged on my door (and I do mean BANGED) didn't even get me to open the door.

BANG BANG BANG

Me: Who is it?
Him: Comcast Cable.
Me: Go to hell. I have satellite. If you knock on my door again, I'm calling the cops.

Seriously. I said that. I'm assuming he ran away, as there was no further conversation... Of course, I doubt I would have noticed, as I walked away from the door after that. =D

So, I thought I had escaped the hordes of Comcast salesmen and women with not so idle threats. I was, regrettably, dead wrong.

This afternoon, I took the elevator down to the street level to have a bit of a break (read: to smoke, and read whilst smoking). So I find myself a spot to sit and relax, but notice theres a group of people standing around with clip boards, khaki pants, and polo shirts with a logo on them. Well fine, its a college campus, they're probably just recruiting for something, and they won't bother me since I'm smoking, and everyone hates people who smoke, right? *sigh* Wrong. Apparently Comcast salesmen are not deterred by the prospect of second hand smoke.

Chick (obviously looking to make a sale on something): Hi there! Nice day huh?
Me (obviously looking totally uninterested): Yeah, sure.
Chick (pulling out a flyer): Want some ice cream?
Me (looking totally and utterly confused, with "strangers with candy" alarm bots going off in my head): No thank you.
Chick (damned cheery): You sure? I just had a fudgecicle. It was great!
Me (trying not to laugh, but choking on it anyway): Really, no. I don't eat the stuff.
Chick (either getting back into a sales pitch, or hitting on me): So um, you go to school here?
Me (looking at her like shes a complete and total nut case): No. I work here.
Chick (looking crestfallen): Oh.

So she leaves me alone, and I go back to reading. No sooner had the 120th second of her silence ticked by, then a guy in the same stupid uniform walks up to me and says:

Want some ice cream?

I didn't even look up from my book, and said (a bit nastily): No.

The chick then pipes up and says: Oh, I just tried that.
Guy: Oh.
Chick: I think I'll sit here with her (meaning ME)
Guy: Okay. Oh look, students!

My entire break was spent being occasionally spoken to by this chick who obviously wanted to sell me something, but couldn't pluck up the courage to actually go into her spiel about it. Constantly things like "good book?" and "man I'm tired" and any other stupid random chatter she could think of.

I finally got sick of it and fled inside, cursing Comcast and their dreadful marketing tactics for ruining my break =(

For the record, Comcast is evil. Do not succumb to their offers of ice cream. The fine print on those free ice cream flyers says that by accepting said ice cream, you are signing over the rights to the rest of your unborn children, and putting Comcast into your will as the sole heir to your estate and the sole beneficiary of any and all life insurance plans you have, or might have in the future.

Quirk #10

I know I haven't been posting this week. I haven't thought of anything to write, and none of the quirks I've come up with are quirky enough to really qualify...

Work sucks.

I hate professors.

I hate professors who have no concept of costs.

I hate professors who have no concept of costs, and have no concept of "budget"

I also hate professors who have no concept of the above things, and submit pre-proposals without consulting their accounting staff first.

Lets just say that hiring a postdoc on a 100k award is um... Not the brightest of ideas. Especially when said postdoc has a history of running up 2k of fabrication costs a month.

Would it be alright with everyone if I screamed now?

Oh yeah, and I especially hate professors who tell me to work up a budget with a certain amount of money, and then, after I've done what they ask, tell me to re-work said budget with only 1/3 of the original total, but keeping everything anyway.

I'm sorry people... Despite rumors to the contrary, I am wholly unable to pull money out of my ass.

And yes... The fact that I am incapable of pulling money out of my ass is my quirk this time.

=P

Quirk #9

I'm addicted to books.

Seriously. I go through books like other people go through... well... air I suppose. Example: I bought a book at lunch last friday. I finished it well before going to bed the same day. And I'm talking about a 300 page book here, not one of those little bitty leaflet style ones.

When I was a kid, spring break was my high point because I would go to the library every day, check out a stack of books, and return them the next day, all read. In fact, you know those summer reading contests they would have? I'd have won them all -- if I'd remembered to turn in my reading logs... lol.

Now that I'm a grown up, I never go to the library. Instead, I'm building my own. I buy every book I read, and never get rid of it. My goal is that some day, when I'm rich (and hopefully, not famous), I'm going to have a mansion custom built. Half of it will be one HUGE two story room with shelves built into every bit of every wall, floor to ceiling, with those really cool ladders on runners going around the room.

I think I'm kind of old fashioned when it comes to books... Theres a woman in my office who caught me reading while I was walking to go get lunch (yes, I can read and walk at the same time), and she asked me why I don't listen to books on "tape" (she has hers on her iPod). I told her, honestly, that listening to someone read a book takes the joy out of it for me, and becomes boring after a while. The next day she brings in this little thing that looks like a PDA in a leather case... And says "I know you like books, so I wanted to show you this..." She turns it on, and its an eBook reader. I was horrified, but chocked back my distaste long enough to explain to her that I can't stand reading for long periods of time on a computer screen, and much prefer a regular book. She said she was the same way, but got tired of having to sell her books (OMG WHAT?). Again, I was shocked. I never sell ANY of my books! I keep them all, and read them again in a couple years (when I may have finally forgotten some of the plot). Besides, if I sold my books, I wouldn't have any left for my dream library!

In all truth, even if it weren't for the not liking to read a computer screen for hours at a time, and even if it weren't for the wanting to have a library of my own some day, I'd still buy regular books. There's something relaxing to me about the feel of a book in my hand. There's something relaxing about the smell of the fresh ink on the paper of a new book, and there's something really reassuring about the smell of old ink on old paper of a well worn used novel. The act of turning the pages is my own kind of meditation. It's as if by touching the book, I'm better able to absorb the story. Like the book is a portal to another world, and by holding it, I transport myself there. And that immersion, that complete escape from the reality of the world around me (I read mostly sci-fi/fantasy novels) is something that I don't think I could live without.

Right now, book-wise, I'm revisiting my adolescence by re-reading all my Piers Anthony novels (I have quite a few), and I was slightly disappointed to discover that I must have read some of the series' from books borrowed from the library, as I don't have the entire sets in my collection.

I guess a trip to Borders or Barnes & Nobels is in order... If they even still stock those books... Maybe Amazon.com? Eh. I'll find them somewhere.

Quirk #8

I really hate coming off like I'm an idiot.

Okay, maybe this isn't a quirk. I don't think I know anyone who actually enjoys having people truly think they're an imbecille. I know people who don't care what other people think about their intelligence (either they're smart enough to know that other people are just stupid, so their opinons are useless, or they're too stupid to realize that seeming stupid doesn't help them in life), but none of them actually enjoy it. Me, well, I care if people realize I'm actually quite smart. I much prefer being thought of as intelligent, and go out of my way to make sure people realize I am. I don't care if people like me or not. They can think of, and call, me a bitch openly. It doesn't bother me. As long as they know I'm a smart bitch.

It's not something that I'm proud of. I show off, mentally, and its a really shallow thing to do. Which is funny, because I don't think of myself as a shallow person. Quite the opposite actually.

Anyway.

So I hate being put into situations that make me look stupid, especially when the reason I look stupid is because I am completely and totally uninformed about something that the person putting me in the situation already knew, and should have told me. And so far today, I have ended up in these types of situations 3 times.

My desk is the closest to the door to our cube farm, and as such, it falls upon me to direct anyone who happens to need directing. So someone comes in to ask if one of my co-workers is around. So I say "if her computer is on, she probably is. if it's not, she's probably not." Upon saying this, another woman in the office decides to pipe up that said co-worker is on vacation for the week. Why she couldn't have piped up when she heard the person ask... I don't know. Why there were no "on vacation" signs posted at this co-worker's desk, I don't know. But I ended up sounding stupid as a result.

So later, another person comes in asking for the same co-worker. Having found out that she's on vacation, I try to direct them to her supervisor. Whereupon the same person that piped up before says "oh, her supervisor is on vacation too." And I nearly slam my head into my desk right then and there. But no, I hold back, and ask politely who is covering while they're gone. The answer? She is. Why she couldn't have told me all that earlier, the first time I made an ass of myself, is beyond me. But whatever.

So after that, someone comes in asking for someone that does not sit in our office (or so I thought). I look at them, confused, and try to direct them downstairs. Whereupon I'm informed by that person that the someone they're looking for moved here. Okay, its a big office, but not THAT big -- I thought -- so I'd know if someone moved in... Right? Apparently not. Apparently this person moved into the far end of the office a WEEK ago, and no one bothered to tell me. And all this I find out from... Guess who. The exact same person who stepped in the first two times.

I really am not sure who to be upset at... My boss for not keeping me in the loop? The people who went on vacation without putting notes on their doors/desks? The people moving into my office without so much as a "hi how are ya? I'm staying for a while"?

GRRR.

Quirk #7

Squirrels scare me.

Not in the run away screaming sense, but in the cross the street to get away from them sense, or the stand stock still until they go away sense, or the slowly back away from them sense.

You see, I grew up around what I have come to believe are genetically engineered super squirrels that know no fear of humans, or anything else for that matter. The college campus that I work at is infested with the suckers, and truly, they are not afraid of anyone or anything. Half of them are rabid. The other half will bite you out of spite. They all will steal food right out of your hands, climbing up your leg to do so. It's so bad that ecologists have been called in numerous times to try and come up with a solution for them.

Short of putting a bounty on their heads, no one has been able to devise a plan to get rid of them.

This is because these rabid, non-people fearing, food stealing buggers are not your normal squirrel. I've come to the conclusion that what happened is that way back in the beginning of the university, when genetic engineering was still just a matter of breeding two different species together, someone in life sciences decided to use squirrels as test subjects. These squirrels then mutated, thanks to the vast number of chemicals and radioactive substances they were subjected to, to have the brain power of 10 students all combined. Because they were suddenly smart, and self-aware, they became aware of the torture that was being inflicted upon them. Resenting their human creators (creators of their intelligence anyway) for said toruture, they escaped from their laboratory prison. In the process of this escape, I'm quite sure that at least one lowly graduate student researcher lost his life -- perhaps more -- but the university covered it up, fearing a scandal.

These squirrels, now free, pledged themselves to the destruction of human kind. Not by blowing anything up, or creating bio-warfare devices, mind you. They plotted the destruction of humans simply by scaring them away from places of higher education, and dooming the human race to an existance of substandard education. And we all know ignorance kills, so the plan was a pretty good one.

Now, these squirrels terrorize anyone on campus who dares come within sight of them, patiently winning their war one undergrad at a time. They celebrate when they succeed in frightening off a college administrator, and throw a huge gala event when they manage to chase a professor off campus.

You don't believe me? Ask the BF. He knows. He's seen them. In fact, he thinks they should be made super elite bosses in some MMORPG, they are that fierce.

Is it any wonder squirrels freak me out a little bit now?

Quirk #6

I am addicted to writing implements and the paper they are used upon.

In this modern day of putting everything in a digital file stored on a central server, or a flash drive on your keychain, I still do a large amount of work on paper. In fact, most of the time, I have great difficulty working on anything except paper. To the degree that I tend to duplicate work, simply because I am compelled to work it out on paper first, then enter it into its digital format.

Along these lines, I am a menace to my bank account when entering an office supply store. My most recent decadence was a couple of engineer's computation pads... Which I absolutely adore, in part because I grew up stealing them from my dad but mostly because when it comes to working on paper, there is no better paper to do it on. It's tint lends itself to being easily read, and the faint grid pattern leads to the neatest of writing and figure drawing. The fun part? When you photo copy it, there is no grid, no tint -- just what you wrote on it, and a perfect set of margins. Oh yeah, and no bleeding through either. It's the smoothest, silkiest, leak and smudge free paper I've ever used... For work anyway.

When it comes to personal writing purposes, Claire Fontaine notebooks are piled up on my shelves, on my kitchen table, and anywhere else I can think to leave them. They're expensive. I won't deny that. But if you are a writer of any type (as in, physically writing), it is worth the expense. I have friends that I've turned on to this rather small line of stationary/notebooks, and they have never turned back. Again, smooth silky paper, no smudges, no leaks, and its quite heavier weight than most paper, so does not tear or crumple easily.

Hmmm... This is starting to sound like a stationary ad... I'll switch to pens.

I think I'm the only person on the face of the earth that has pen-gasms. I walk down the pen aisle of any store (any store that has more than bic ball points that is), and I get all hot and bothered. I actually coo over pens. As such, I am incredibly picky about what kind of pens I use.

I can't stand anything other than the finest, most elegant point. Which of course means that I absolutely refuse to use a normal ball point pen. Ball point pens should all be burned at the stake, and a ban put on ever producing them again, imo... But I don't care much for a pure felt tip either, as the tend to warp over time. Instead, there are two types of pen that I will happily use, my favorite being a fountain pen. Unfortunately, the last one of these I had was rather calously snapped in half by an overzealous toddler who had managed his way into the depths of my purse while I wasn't paying the closest of attention... Which nearly resulted in his very quick demise. But I held myself back. It was only a pen after all... *chokes on her words* ONLY a pen... ACK. *cries* I still miss that pen. It was beautiful. But I can't quite afford the hundred or so dollars it would cost to replace it. [If anyone would care to replace it for me *ahem* hint hint *ahem* I will gladly pick out a suitable model at your request]

The other type is much more readily obtained from a normal store -- rollerball pens. Ultra fine point. In as many colors other than black as possible. I personally have never cared much for black ink. It seems so blah. And when you photo copy it, you can't tell it from the original. Blue, again, is a bit boring, but only because it is so overused. I much prefer colors like purple and green. Occasionally even red.

When I used a fountain pen, I used to mix my own colors of ink... Not entirely reccomended mind you, but you'd be surprised the tints one can come up with simply by "forgetting" to clean the nib between color switches.

Anyway, yeah, I'm addicted. I don't deny it. It's one of the few creature comforts I indulge myself in lately -- pens and paper -- and remarkably, they can be practical =)

Quirk #5

Bugs. The bane of my existance.

I am deathly afraid of several types of bug.

There's the obvious fears of bees, wasps, hornets, or any other flying bug that stings. If I see one of these fierce predators, I generally either a) freak out and run away or b) go catatonic and say "uhhhhh uhhhhh uhhhhh" while staring at the flying offender. This leads to me not having picnics, or eating outside in general, because wasps tend to really love all the food I generally eat.

The basis of this fear (because I wasn't always afraid of these things -- bumble bees used to intrigue me) is that when I was just about 5, and we were driving from NY to California in the dead of August through some god awfully hot state that I can't remember the name of, though it did look much like Nevada... I was shirtless in the car, and a hornet got into the car without my parents noticing, and it promptly stung me squarely on the belly button. Yes, screaming ensued. Yes, my parents were baffled. Yes, I have never been able to look at a stinging flying creature without freaking out since.

Then there's the not so obvious ones.

Ants. I am afraid of ants. To the degree that if I find them in my house in any quantity, I hyperventillate and must go around spraying every last one with windex until they are all completely and totally dead. And then I can't sleep for a day or two, because of the nightmares. Actually, thats the mild response. As in, the response to only having a very very small trail of the buggers show up somewhere. There was an instance in which I woke up one morning, walked into the kitchen to start breakfast, and found a foot wide seething swath of ants that went from my patio door, up the wall, across the ceiling in the living room, along the wall into the kitchen, and down behind the stove. I panicked (I can never remember how to spell that stupid word, I'm guessing its right, but I'm not entirely certain). I couldn't think straight. I couldn't find my way to the windex. I did however manage to find my phone, which I then used to call my ex, and when he answered all I could say was "Ants... Ants everywhere. Help." and cry. Thankfully, that was enough communication for him to grab some raid on the way to my apt, and mercilessly murder the little bastards while I huddled in the corner of my couch watching to make sure he got every last one, and when he missed one, I'd yell "There! There! Kill it!" and point until it was gone...

And then there was the one time in college when I found ants in my bathroom (no where else) one morning, and had to call in sick to work, and not go to class, just so that I could kill every last single one, go get ant bait so they wouldn't come back, then clean my entire apartment because the thought of even one ant on the edge of the toilet was too much for me to bear... Especially when I had to pee... Frantic checking of all edges of the toilet took place for at least 5 minutes before using the thing (including the lifting of seats, and tank covers) every time I needed to, for an entire week.

Typing this, it all seems quite hilarious... And come to think of it, everyone that's ever witnessed my ant exposure based breakdowns has always laughed at me throughout the entire episode...

Then there's the little bitty flying buzzing bugs, that don't actually hurt you that much... But have an awful tendency to fly in your ears and eyes and nose and mouth when you're least expecting it. Mosquitos in particular. Its not so much the bugs themselves that scare me in that instance... Its the "OMG there's a bug in my ear!" thing that bothers me. I think I've grown up hearing way too many stories of people waking up with cockroaches stuck in their ears... Not to mention that there's something that just really freaks me out about the idea of a bug getting inside me somehow. Maybe I have Aliens to thank for that fear... Who knows.

Strangely enough, I am not afraid of spiders. Sure, sometimes they might startle me, but I am not afraid of them in the least. Actually, I quite appreciate them, as they make a habit of eating all the bugs that freak me out.

Quirk #4

I can't stand silence.

No really, I hate it. I've constantly got to have some kind of noise going on, preferably music or the TV. I go a little bit nuts if there's no backround noise.

I'm not entirely sure why this is, but it is.

Quirk #3

I am a walking encyclopedia/dictionary/thesaurus/grammar reference.

It may not be evident in my posts here, as I tend to be rather laid back about my own personal writing style (this is of course, for my own benefit, and not anyone else's after all), but according to other people, I am a queen of the english language.

I was first dubbed a walking dictionary when I was in middle school (6th grade to be exact), and any time someone needed to know how to spell something, all they had to do was ask me. This trend first started with my close friends, and quickly blossomed outwards to the entire population of the school -- teachers included.

Then, in highschool, it expanded to asking me the meanings and origins of words, as well as what other words mean the same thing.

Then, in college, people started to ask me the entire history of concepts... Which, surprisingly I was able to explain, despite having very little memory of having actually read them (I'm sure I have, but I've read so much, it all gets a little jumbled up).

After college, I became a fount of useless information. You know, silly little trivia facts that don't actually mean anything to society, but its knowledge nonetheless, so I'd absorbed it somewhere. Things like "Mel Gibson's first film was an Australian flick called Tim, in which he played a mentally challenged young man who fell in love with a much older, highly intellectual woman." Or other things like, "it takes more calcium to digest milk than you actually get out of the milk itself, so if you drink milk for the calcium, you're actually operating at a net loss of calcium."

Now, at work, I act as an ESL teacher for one of my co-workers, who is constantly asking me about various words she doesn't understand, and how to properly construct sentences (She's from Algeria, and speaks French and Arabic natively -- not English).

All this is not to say that I know every word out there... I don't. But when I was younger, I would (for the fun of it) read the dictionary, so I know more arcane words than most. (How many of you know what Pusillanimous means? hmmm? Or what word it is in the etymology for that's commonly used today to mean the same thing?)

I did learn a new word the other day... Dearth. I was reading a Canadian's blog, and found this word, and was like "omg! A word I don't know! Need to look it up!"
(for those of you wondering, it means "a severe lack")

I also think I'm one of the only people who considers being able to use the Oxford English Dictionary online a perk of their job... LOL.

Quirk #2

I have a chronic oral fixation.

Seriously. I just about always have something in my mouth. If I, by rare chance, don't already have something in my mouth, I'm trying to find something worth putting there.

I have no idea where this fixation comes from, but its ruined many pens, and countless shirt cuffs and collars. Not to mention the pull strings on any hoodies I might happen to own...

It's single handedly responsible for my smoking addiction (I don't think I'm actually addicted to the nicotine -- though I probably am -- I think its just something I do to occupy my lips), and the several pounds of extra weight I carry around.

So far today, I've...

Reduced a Starbucks straw to shreds of plastic.
Chewed on my finger nails (not bitten them off, just kinda chewed on them).
Bitten my fingers.
Chewed on the end of a pen (or three...).
Chewed on the cap to my bottle of iced tea.
Chewed on the cord for my headphones (not hard mind you).
Gone through a good couple ounces of sesame crackers.
Smoked way too many cigarettes.
Gone through 3 pieces of gum, each chewed for so long it made my jaw hurt.

If I were wearing a long sleeve shirt, I'd probably have chewed a hole in the cuff by now, but I'm wearing a tank top, so I haven't eaten any clothing yet today.

It's even bad enough that I grind my teeth in my sleep, and have even broken a tooth that way. Of course, my doctor says thats because of stress, but secretly I think its because I just don't have anything to chew on while I'm sleeping.

I'd like to think there's a cure for this out there somewhere... But I know there isn't, and I'm just a freak. *shrug* Oh well.

It does have it's plus sides though *wink wink, nod nod, blush, giggle*

101 Quirks About Me

This is something that a friend of mine has been doing on her blog, and since I've been short of ideas of things to post about lately, I thought I might take up the habit.

Quirk #1 --

I hate wearing shoes. In fact, the only reason I wear shoes at all is because I hate burning/cutting my feet worse.

When I was growing up, we (my mom, my sister and I) all went barefoot constantly. Shoes were not a requirement for leaving the house -- they were only a requirement if we were going somewhere that would be dangerous for our cute toes. Running around in the back yard, for example, did not require shoes. Playing at the beach, or in the grass at a park, or climbing trees did not require shoes. Heck, going to the grocery store didn't require shoes, as long as we were content to sit in the cart instead of walk around.

At home, we NEVER wore shoes. Or socks for that matter. We had hardwood floors, and even in the dead of winter when it was freezing cold we didn't put anything on our feet.

For a brief period of time I wouldn't even wear shoes when walking to and from school. The only reason I stopped doing that was because of the one time that I actually ended up with serious burns on the soles of my feet from walking across asphalt in 90 degree weather.

If I have to wear shoes, they're usually slip on's of some sort, or sandals, or flip flops that I don't have to wear socks with. And the moment I'm anywhere that I can remove them, I do.

I take my shoes off at my desk at work.
I take my shoes off in the car on long drives.
I take my shoes off while sitting in restaurants.
I take my shoes off the INSTANT I get home.

See, I went barefoot so much as a kid (and I'm sure that partially had to do with the cost of shoes, as well as the fact that my mother is a total batik wearing hippie at heart) that now my feet feel completely and totally trapped in shoes. To the degree that I'd even go so far as to say that my feet get claustrophobic.

As such, I am constantly confused by my BF. He forgets to take his shoes off. And he never takes off his socks. I mean never. Except to shower (Well, and for one other activity... No naked men in socks for me!). He even sleeps in them! I can't comprehend how he can stand to have his feet boxed up all the time like that. Meh.