One of the side effects of my Vitamin Z that I’m experiencing is these crippling headaches, and NOT the ejaculation problems that are warned against with a shrieking frequency all over the bottle (mayhap it’s because I DON’T HAVE A PENIS. Or do I? Mwahahahaha).

They’re the sort that have left me forgetting even the simplest of things (such as what am I actually writing about now that I have a post halfway written? And what the hell is my middle name again?) and raging against the sunlight that is gleefully reflecting off of the eleventy-hundred pounds of snow on the ground.

As a divine gift from God for someone who is currently struggling with an ugly case of Writer’s Block (hey, better than genital herpes, right?), I was tagged for a meme by my friend KT over at When Did I Become A Grown-Up?. As a rule, I only do them if I like them, but this one happens to be a favorite. I’m going to call it The Seven Odder Things About Me Meme (I’ve done this one before. To make certain I don’t repeat myself, I’ll linky-poo here.)

1. It should come as no shock to anyone who has seen me dress myself that I am actually color blind. I’ll take a moment here to let those of you who have seen my fashion sense (or lack thereof) collect yourself from the gut-busting laughter. Try not to pull a muscle, mmkay?

Done, now?

Fuckers.

See, it’s actually pretty rare for women to be color blind as it’s an X-linked disorder (meaning both of my chromosomes must have it). I’ll avoid going into further details so that you are not forced to gnaw your arm off with boredom.

It has been the cause for many a (stupid) marital dispute over the shade of a particular color. In the end, I’ve learned to rely on Dave’s opinion (smart as that may not be) about certain shades.

My kids are going to have to get used to looking as though hobo’s have dressed them, eh?

2. I have an intense phobia of canned fruits, in spite of my unrequited love of fruits in general. There’s something about canned anything, floating happily in a goo sauce that completely freaks me out. Ditto for Jello molds.

I think this may be a throw back to the dissection craze of my 5th grade teacher, who, in all of her glory, decided to spend a large portion of the year showcasing the various creepy jars full of deceased animals suspended in Formalin (or the famous carcinogenic Formaldehyde, it was the 80’s, after all) to us. Now, I loves me my dissections (seriously), but seeing floating suspended baby chicks in glass jars was enough to give me nightmares.

I think this is where the phobia stems from (that, and my hippie mother would likely rather have eaten her own feces than served us something suspended in SUGAR.), but I can’t seem to shake it, EVEN IF I LIKE THE FRUIT IN QUESTION.

3. When I was in my first semester in college, I took an introductory biology class and one of the tasks that we were required to learn was all of the organ systems of the fetal pig (which are similar to the layout of a human). While half of my class was left gagging into their Bunsen burners, I took to the task like a pig in, well, shit. The instructor insisted that we learn this inside and out (oh pun, pu-pun, pun, PUN), and suggested that we take ours home to study (due to limited laboratory time).

Well, I took it a step further and named mine. It’s the same name as my former heating pad boyfriend: Stu.

To maximize the shock value to my mother (and to ensure that the dogs did NOT have a tasty snack while I wasn’t looking), I decided to casually slip Stu into the meat drawer and then leave the house, knowing full well that she’d discover him in my absence.

She was underwhelmed.

4. Because in the academic realm, I am 110% An Annoying Overachiever, I became a TA for both Inorganic and Organic chemistry as well as a tutor for Anatomy and Physiology I and II.

It was only then that I developed a complete and total appreciation for teachers. Wow. Some of those students were not the brightest bulbs in the sconces.

5. Despite the fact that I blog like it’s going out of style (isn’t it?), I have never in my whole life written for fun. Ever. This includes journaling of any sort. Mainly because, what the fuck would I ever journal about?

In high school, I would occasionally try to write in a journal but it always ended up something like,

I really like Shawn X. He sat next to me in Brit Lit and I swear he smiled at me. Oh, I don’t know WHAT I’ll do if he doesn’t ask me to Homecoming!”

And then I would look back on it and be embarrassed FOR myself.

6. One of the things I hate most about being a grown-up is that the older we get, the more PC we have to become. As someone who has never NOT laughed at a dick-n-fart joke, and whose all time favorite word is fuck (I actually gave it up for Lent one year DESPITE the fact that I am not Catholic. Maybe it’s better that I’m not Catholic, because I didn’t do a very good job of it.), I hate having to be all conscious of what I say in public and to other people.

I hate having to worry about offending people if I tell them what I think, and I hate offending people even when I’m not trying to. I use certain words to be humorous, not to be offensive (because I promise The Internet that if I am actively trying to offend someone, I will do so), and I hate having to censor myself in order to maintain the peace.

7. I genuinely believe that everything tastes better with bacon.

Now, here’s the catch: see, I’m supposed to tag a couple of people to do this meme, but I’m pretty sure everyone who has a blog has done it and is probably not as full of weird things to do it over and over again.

So I am tagging anyone (this means YOU! LURKER!) who reads this to give me a weird fact about themselves in the comments (use a fake name if you must). Because seriously, the comments are high-freaking-larious and might just help with poor, OH POOR Aunt Becky’s blinding headache.

Laughter IS the best medicine, after all (or so Reader’s Digest tells me, AND WHY WOULD THEY LIE TO ME?).

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

27 Responses to You Would Think That I Would Deserve A Fat Promotion

  • Doc says:

    1. I am eating Gummy bears right now!

    (I love reading your stuff… you type like I think which makes it easy to read)

    oh yeah… and FUCK !

  • I have met three people thru blogging that my shyness at school or around my neighborhood kept me from meeting in real life. I’m much more outgoing in web 2.0 that in person. I met a neighbor of 7 years by following the link in the comments at So Close (Tertia).

  • Kristin says:

    In addition to compusively doodling while in meetings, I write my name. I write my name in cursive, in block lettering, all caps, any way I can write my name. By the time a typical hour-long meeting is over, I have scribbled my name and doodled the crap out of at least 2 full sheets of paper.

  • Tracy says:

    I worked as a dancing dinosaur in a mall for two days once. I made $200, lost 5 pounds in water weight and my skin felt softer than ever.

  • Leslee says:

    I think I wanna be a dancing dinosaur at the mall!

    Um… Weirdness… Those so much crap to choose from!

    I often break out in random song, like in musicals. I’ll make up shit about the cats or something that happened or the mood I’m in. My one cat, Baby Mae, tends to come up to me and bite me on the chin when I do this.

  • gs says:

    oh, I have waay too much to choose from. Let’s go with:

    I was kicked out of the girl scouts when I was 10.

  • SaraS-P says:

    For a physio psych class in college, I had to keep a sheep brain for a semester. I had to change the water and keep it in the fridge when not in class. My roommates loved me!

    And, yes, many students are dim bulbs indeed!

    As for odd things about me… have you read my blog??? The family tales alone are odd enough for most. I was almost named after a dinosaur, I never realized most parents wore CLOTHES while at home…need I go on???

  • Emily says:

    I am tone deaf. And I love to sing.

  • Ahuva Batya says:

    We all had to take a “future career” test in junior high; answer a bunch of questions and then it spits out what you are best suited for in life. Mine was “funeral parlor director.”

  • MsPrufrock says:

    Heather’s comment reminded me, pigeons have flown into my damn head. Twice. On two SEPARATE occasions. I always laughed at that episode of Seinfeld where pigeons flew into Elaine’s giant freak head. I know what this is like.

    “A bird ran into my giant freak-head.”
    “What giant freak-head?”
    “The one that sits atop my disproportionately puny body. I’m a walking candy apple!”

    Incidentally, both times the pigeons lay on the ground stunned, flopping slightly and quite possibly dying. In my defense, this happened at Victoria station, which is ripe for pigeon-flying-into-head-edness. Fuckers.

  • Heather says:

    I was attacked by an enraged mockingbird while walking to one of my classes in college. By attacked, I mean the MF-er flew down and landed on my head and began to yank out strands of my hair with which to build its filthy lair while hoards of onlookers keeled over with laughter and I ran in frantic circles of panic. Ironically, it is the state bird here in these parts. Bastard.

  • honeywine says:

    Ok let’s get the giggling out of the way first…I’m 35 and I can’t tie my shoes. Never could, and it didn’t matter how many people tried to teach me. As a senior in high school, I would go to the kindergarten to get my baby brother to tie them. My mother thought MaryJanes were just adorable on little girls, but hey, I can unbuckle in nothing flat! Just ask M.! :D

    My mom is color blind. We fought for YEARS until Tina & I figured it out! Oh the fights we’ve had over a shade of green or blue. She still denies it!

    And I abhor Jello. It disgusted me even before I found out it was nothing but animal joints dried and pummeled. ::wretching::

  • baseballmom says:

    Watching ANYONE brush their teeth, or floss, or pretty much any dental related thing, makes me want to puke. Even on commercials. Even my own kids. I have to look away, it grosses me out so much.

  • magpie says:

    Yes, you are right about the bacon.

    I just confessed, on someone else’s blog, that I have cat relics. I have an old film canister stashed away, with cat baby teeth and a couple of whiskers. The cats are long gone, but I have to keep their teeth. I just have to.

  • LAS says:

    When I travel, I take one of my cat’s toys with me. It’s a stuffed bunny.

  • Melissa says:

    I cannot stand it when people touch their throats. The back of the neck is fine but when someone is stroking the front of their necks I jump out of my skin. It makes me squirm and gag and completely uncomfortable.

  • When I moved to Cleveland to go to graduate school (when G-d was a child)from the big farm campus of Ohio State everyone warned me about the big bad city. I lived in a old dormitory with creepy steam pipes. I slept (in fear) every night, with the light on, facing my dresser so I could be comforted by the sight of familiar things.

    One morning I woke up and couldn’t see a thing – not a thing. I panicked thinking I had had a stroke during the night and was struck blind.

    It took me a full five minutes to realize I had turned over during the night and was staring at my blank wall.

    It is a wonder I can dress myself.

  • I’m currently teaching my kids to play hide and seek. I hide in an impossibly hard place to discover, and see how many hours it takes them to find me! :)

  • Jenn says:

    I iron my paper money. Woo.

  • Jenn says:

    Oh. But not my clothing.

  • Tony says:

    I dont know where to begin with the weirdness. The list is just too long. I guess if I could pick one top item, it would be this: If ever I had the opportunity to have my brain encased in the body of a cyborg, and be all robocop with automatic weapons and laser beam eyes and stuff, it would be near impossible to stop me from jumping at the chance.

  • becky says:

    Okay, so, I remembered another very odd thing about me.

    The palms of my hands have almost no perception of heat, which sounds much cooler than it is. This effectively means that I am unable to accurately gauge whether the bathwater is too hot for the ickle one.

    (This stems from nerve damage caused by too many years of handling hot plates as a waitress.)

  • Pamela J. says:

    When I was a senior in high school my boyfriend (a year younger) and I were having sex in my bedroom. He wanted to view the “plumbing,” and asked me to flex my vaginal muscle. His face was within a couple inches of my twat when I flexed and accidentally farted. He lurched back and fell off the bed.

  • Rebecca says:

    I love cherry pie but hate the cherries. They gross me out. So I pick out each and every cherry in a pie and just eat the crust and juice.

    I have to wear a watch even though I seldom check to see what time it is or regardless of whether it works or not. I feel naked without one. I once went 3 months with my watch stopped at 3:10.

  • ewe_are_here says:

    Well, it’s not about me, but my mom is color blind, funnily enough. It is quite rare in women. ;-)

  • tonya cinnamon says:

    as a full time mom and student at 32 .this year me and the kidlets moved in to a aprt with no stove. i have done a whole thanksgiving cooked in a toaster oven and miscrowave :0)
    and it was damn good too.LOL….

  • Victoria says:

    Okay, in a previous comment I said “frackin” ’cause I wasn’t sure where you stood on the fuck/flip/fudge fence. Now I know. Fuck fer sure.

    Ok? Random weird thing? My father once hit on me in a bar. He didn’t know it was me. But still.

    And yet, I’ve never been in therapy.

    Well, for *that*.

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