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Quirky, Me?

  • Posted on January 31, 2009 at 1:19 pm

People are always telling me that I’m quirky. And by “people”, I specifically mean my father and my husband. My father is always saying “oh, you and your quirks.” And my husband told me recently I have too many hang-ups with food, and I am a picky eater–totally news to me. I thought I was an adventurous eater.

So this got me to thinking–am I really quirky? Really? Or am I just… normal? Doesn’t everyone have little things that bother them? Maybe mine are just weirder than most….

1. I hate pulp in orange juice.

2. I hate meatloaf. I have ever since I was a child and my mom tried to trick  me by  putting carrots in it.

3. I hate celery, carrots (see #2 above), bananas, turnips, parsnips, and beets.

Bananas Suck Go to hell, beets

4. I can’t stand socks. Especially dirty socks lying on the floor. I can’t touch them.

5. I hate ice–I will not drink anything with ice in it without a straw. Ice cannot touch my teeth. And I’ll shudder if ice touches my fingernails.

Ice: booooooo

6. I don’t  like stews, goulashes, beef burgundy, or anything that’s too “meaty”. I can trace this quirk back to my childhood as well, when I was eating beef stew at my aunt’s house, and the meat was so overdone that I kept chewing and chewing and chewing, unable to swallow the dry meat, but too embarrassed to spit it out in front of my family.

7. I hate loud chewing.

8. I hate the word “huh?”

9. I have an eye phobia–I can’t stand the thought of anything touching my eyes, including fingers, contacts, medical instruments, needles, etc. I can trace this phobia back to fifth grade, when I saw a movie in school about Ellis Island, and the immigrants had to flip their eyelids back for the immigration officials. I had never seen this done before and thought it was the grossest thing ever (I am throwing up a little bit in my mouth right now just thinking about it.) A boy in my fifth grade class named Tim Stapula thought it was awesome and he would flip his eyelids and chase me around the playground. Thank you, Tim, for scarring me for life.

eyeballs make me vomit

So what do you think: am I quirky? Normal? Just to the left of normal?

Dad, Larry: did I forget anything?