You ask, "Cor, why in God's name have you opted to do another installment of this this thing and expose your mental illness to the world?" The answer, friend, is that I'm bored, and it's either this or I tell you horrifying stories related to my overactive imagination. So, without further delay, let's begin.
1. I have a longstanding phobia of the human pulse. I don't like putting my head against my husband's chest and hearing it, I don't like seeing it pulse in someone's neck or feet, and I don't like feeling it in my own body when I'm trying to drift off to dreamland. It also makes getting my blood pressure taken an interesting adventure. I know it makes no sense...the pulse should be reassuring. It should say, "Hey look! You're still alive." But for me it's disgusting, and it's like a counter ticking down the seconds I have left in my life. Blargh. I hate it. I discovered a while back that my brother, curiously, has a similar problem with the human pulse. It's weird, but I'm grateful I'm not the only one.
2. I secretly judge people on the basis of their spelling and grammar. I don't really need to say much about this since it's kind of self-explanatory. The worst for me is probably subject-verb agreement. Like, if someone says, "Is there any cookies?" I want to punch them in the neck while I scream, "ARE! ARE there any cookies?! I hate you!"
3. I get so angry sometimes when the contestants on The Price is Right consult the audience for help figuring out the prices of things. It's like, "Come on. Do you REALLY think the audience knows the last 3 digits in the price of that car any better than you do? Stop wasting time!" So annoying. Make a decision!
4. I am far too anal about time, resulting in a crippling desire for me to do everything on a multiple of five on the clock. For example I can't just roll out of the house at 3:03. It needs to be 3:05, and if I miss that window, by god I'll wait until 3:10. It's a sickness. It's getting better, though, don't worry. It's been nearly a year since I've worn a watch, and my husband and I fight far less over this unsavory anal quirk of mine. (That last sentence sounds all sorts of wrong, but you know what I mean. God, at least I hope you know what I mean.)
5. I can't stand hearing women with "crisp" S's. It's like they're hissing when they speak. I want them to say, "SSSSooo, I am SSSSecretly a SSSerpent." *shudder*
6. I love eyebrows. They're one of the first things I notice about a person's face. People with good eyebrows delight me, and I have no shame in telling them how much I appreciate them.
7. I make up nicknames for just about everyone I know, particularly those I'm just acquaintances with and especially those I'm not a huge fan of. In fact, I often find myself drawing a blank when I see these people as my mind desperately grasps at straws to remember their real name. Some notable nicknames over the years (many you may remember from the old blog) include but are not limited to: Crab Boy, Kermit, Chewbacca/The Jackhammer, Eyeballz, Figaro, Fitsy, The Text Messenger, Marla Hooch, Kappa Kappa Suck Me, Grimace, Coin Slot, Sir Spanx-a-Lot, Skidmark, SparkNotes, Rasputin/Jesus With Glasses, Chinless Joe Jackson, Pete Schweaty, The Hobbit, Dildohead, Senor Stache, Collette Reardon, etc. etc. etc. You get the idea. Am I going to hell for it? Probably. Will I give this up? Never!
In other news, you may remember that some time ago I decided to try to perfect a Rosie Perez accent. I abandoned it for a long time because it turned out I sucked at it, despite the incredible glee it brought me. Well kids, I'm back to working on it? Why? Because of the Band Aid commercial with the two little kids singing the jingle. The little girl sounds just like wee Rosie Perez and I can't get enough of it. So I will continue to work on the Rosie Perez voice when I'm alone. Aside from Kathy, it's likely that none of you will ever hear this, but do take comfort in the fact that I get such joy from it.
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