I’m a bandwagon jumper, so I decided to do a Six Weird Things about me… although, I could probably post one of these every week. I’m just that weird.
Here’s the first installment--
1. I am a classic example of a study in contrasts. I am absolutely meticulous about my appearance. My hair has to be neatly done every day (no throwing it up in a pony tail or looking purposefully mussed), makeup perfectly applied, clothes steamed and wrinkle free, and accessories must be worn at all times. I feel naked without some kind of jewelry, and God forbid I leave the house without lipstick or lipgloss. *shudder*
However, with all that anal-retention about my appearance, you’d think my house would be neat as a pin. Ummmm… NO. Not hardly. My bedroom is a total disaster. It bothers me, but not enough to do much about it. Kitchen? Well, it’s clean enough. Dirty dishes don’t bother me if they’re in the sink for a day. Besides, that’s one of the kids’ chores, so I don’t usually clean too much in there. Clutter just doesn’t bother me to the point of having to clean non-stop. Sure, I get a wild hair every once in a while to tackle some major part of the clutter, but usually… not so much. If I had my wish, we’d have a live-in maid taking care of all that crap. Where’s
2. When I get nervous, I talk. And talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. A guy I dated once likened me to a little jumpy bird. I know that can be boring listening to someone go on and on… and I’m not purposefully trying to monopolize a conversation. Believe me… it’s not all about me. It’s just my nerves. So if you ever meet me in person, you’ll know. (right, -r-?) ;-) I don’t mean to be a bore, so just give me a cookie and tell me to shut up.
3. I have VERY eclectic tastes in music. In a previous job, I volunteered to be the driver to the local lunch spot. The guy who sat in my front seat started sifting through my CDs in the car. I warned him that I had really eclectic tastes, but he didn’t believe me. After going through all of them, he decided I was schizophrenic and looked at me a little funny from then on. What? Why can’t I like Sublime AND Manhattan Transfer? Who doesn’t have a hankering for a little Spin Doctors mixed with a smattering of Barry Manilow now and then? No? It’s just me? Well, I’m okay with that.
4. I can gargle air, pitchless, to the rhythm of Rossini’s William Tell Overture (aka the Lone Ranger theme song). I make the gargling sound with no tones, just glottal clicks (Are you trying it right now??). AND you can actually recognize what musical work it is I’m “performing.” It was a lot cooler when I was a kid. Now, it’s just creepy and weird.
5. I perceive myself as much bigger than I actually am. This has nothing to do with weight or a healthy body image. It’s about how I think I can literally kick people’s asses because I’m so tough. Sadly, not true. In college, a girl spilled beer on me at some party. I turned around to mutilate her, and my friends had to physically restrain me from making a huge mistake. This girl was well over 6 feet tall and quite muscle-y. I’m not even 5’4”—she could have squashed me like the little bug that I am. Apparently, this trait runs in the family. My aunt who stands 5 feet tall on her tippie-toes is the same way. We’re like wolverines… small, but ferocious. Our hatred keeps us warm.** ;-)
6. I’m a packrat to a fault (the Farm Boy would call that a major understatement). You would think I grew up in the Depression era or something (no, I did not). Plastic bags, paper bags, gift bags, shoe boxes, cardboard boxes, gift boxes… I can’t make myself throw that stuff away. I even like to hold on to packaging materials. Last night, I bought some lotion and other good smelly-stuff from Vickie S’s house. I bought a boxed set, because it was a better deal. Plus, the box is cute. I will never need that box. Right? Right??? But I couldn’t make myself throw it away. It’s stashed in a place where the Farm Boy won’t find it, because he would surely throw it away. And then where would I be??? I also didn’t throw away the big plastic bubbly packing stuff from a bag I bought – I’m sure I’ll need that someday, too.
I’m sure this “weird thing” relates greatly to the state of my house mentioned in point number one above… and it’s a sickness, I know.
*credited to comedian Steven Wright
**10 points to the first person who "gets" that.