Because the Weirdness Never Ends Around Here
We were tagged by Freezio a while ago for the Six Weird Things Meme, and since we’ve already done two “weird things” memes, I figured I would just link back to those since surely I couldn’t come up with any more. Well, thanks to my new job, which provides a lovely salary and helpful benefits but is currently putting me through the most mind-numbing, time-stopping, soul-sucking “transition to my new duties,” I AM BORED OUT OF MY GOD-FORSAKEN SKULL, and thus have had plenty of time to think through the myriad weird things I haven’t yet discussed here. So, here we go.
1.) I have never been able to whistle. Scores of people have attempted to tell me their methods and pound into my brain that I am making it harder for myself than it really should be for any normal adult human with functioning mouth muscles, but all to no avail. I’ve tried the “suck air IN rather than out FIRST” method, I’ve tried holding my mouth in different positions, placing my tongue in different locations…wait, now this paragraph is getting out of hand. The point is: People, it can’t be done. I am a freak.
2.) What I lack in whistling ability, I make up for in toe strength and flexibility. Yes, that’s right. I can effortlessly pick up anything with my feet, and often do without even realizing it. This became clear the other day while I was talking to John and putting away the pile of clothes precariously perched on the footboard of our mission-style bed (that’s really the only reason I wanted a bed with a footboard, anyway – the extra clothes-hanging space; much the same reason many people opt for treadmills in their bedrooms). I dropped a shirt mid-sentence, and since I was holding a glass of wine in one hand and several dozen other articles of clothing in the other, I instinctively used my claw-toes to grab said shirt, and then I jauntily tossed it up onto the pile in my hands. John completely interrupted what I was trying to say because he then HAD THE NERVE TO LAUGH AT ME.
3.) I have to watch television previews. I don’t watch much TV anymore (you people take up too much of time). But for the few shows I still watch, I have a very rigid requirement: I insist on watching the next episodes’ previews at the end of the show. Do not inhibit my ability to watch the previews or you will incur my wrath, god help you. I know it’s not logical; I know I will see the show next week so why oh why must I see the previews it’s just so stupid!, but this is how my anal little brain works so JUST LET IT GO.
4.) I hate coffee. Will. Not. Drink. Coffee. Plain, black coffee, that is. Cappuccino, coffee-flavored ice creams, coffee-flavored candies (like Nips – YUM) would be my first choice of hot drinks, ice cream, and candy. I know. I’m a real enigma.
5.) Despite the American Love of All Things Smoky, I don’t like anything even remotely “smoked” or barbeque-flavored. Even though I live on Mexican (or "Tex-Mex") food, I won’t touch chipotle sauce for this very reason. People tell me I’m missing out, but, really, trust me. I’ve tried all the new-fangled twists on smokiness, and it’s just not happening. Hate it.
6.) I once won a game of Assassin that started with about 50 players and had quirky rules about where, when, and who you could and couldn’t shoot. Weren’t expecting that, were you? Neither were they. Bwahahaha! It’s always the quiet, discreet ones. This is why I know I totally could have been a successful spy. Maybe some day I’ll tell some fun stories about Ye Ol' Game of Assassin.
1.) I have never been able to whistle. Scores of people have attempted to tell me their methods and pound into my brain that I am making it harder for myself than it really should be for any normal adult human with functioning mouth muscles, but all to no avail. I’ve tried the “suck air IN rather than out FIRST” method, I’ve tried holding my mouth in different positions, placing my tongue in different locations…wait, now this paragraph is getting out of hand. The point is: People, it can’t be done. I am a freak.
2.) What I lack in whistling ability, I make up for in toe strength and flexibility. Yes, that’s right. I can effortlessly pick up anything with my feet, and often do without even realizing it. This became clear the other day while I was talking to John and putting away the pile of clothes precariously perched on the footboard of our mission-style bed (that’s really the only reason I wanted a bed with a footboard, anyway – the extra clothes-hanging space; much the same reason many people opt for treadmills in their bedrooms). I dropped a shirt mid-sentence, and since I was holding a glass of wine in one hand and several dozen other articles of clothing in the other, I instinctively used my claw-toes to grab said shirt, and then I jauntily tossed it up onto the pile in my hands. John completely interrupted what I was trying to say because he then HAD THE NERVE TO LAUGH AT ME.
3.) I have to watch television previews. I don’t watch much TV anymore (you people take up too much of time). But for the few shows I still watch, I have a very rigid requirement: I insist on watching the next episodes’ previews at the end of the show. Do not inhibit my ability to watch the previews or you will incur my wrath, god help you. I know it’s not logical; I know I will see the show next week so why oh why must I see the previews it’s just so stupid!, but this is how my anal little brain works so JUST LET IT GO.
4.) I hate coffee. Will. Not. Drink. Coffee. Plain, black coffee, that is. Cappuccino, coffee-flavored ice creams, coffee-flavored candies (like Nips – YUM) would be my first choice of hot drinks, ice cream, and candy. I know. I’m a real enigma.
5.) Despite the American Love of All Things Smoky, I don’t like anything even remotely “smoked” or barbeque-flavored. Even though I live on Mexican (or "Tex-Mex") food, I won’t touch chipotle sauce for this very reason. People tell me I’m missing out, but, really, trust me. I’ve tried all the new-fangled twists on smokiness, and it’s just not happening. Hate it.
6.) I once won a game of Assassin that started with about 50 players and had quirky rules about where, when, and who you could and couldn’t shoot. Weren’t expecting that, were you? Neither were they. Bwahahaha! It’s always the quiet, discreet ones. This is why I know I totally could have been a successful spy. Maybe some day I’ll tell some fun stories about Ye Ol' Game of Assassin.
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