Friday, February 09, 2007

I'm not weird, I have amusing quirks

Yes, I caved in. The "6 wird things" meme has been around with some really funny weird things, and I have been tagged by a couple of friends, and of course I've been thinking about weird things about me that... well, I sort of had too. I don't think I'm a weird person per ce (I'm a big big nerd), but I have some amusing quirks, so I figured - oh, well. If you're reading this you probably know me long enough so that it won't really damage your fragile psyche. You can take it. Right?

1. I'm a very picky eater. Not a very healthy thing for a vegetarian to be, but I am, and for strange reasons too. For example, I love my veggies, but I'm very particlar about them. Some things just don't get a pass in my world. The main thing that grosses me out, is weird texture. I can't stand stuff that's mushy. I also don't do stuff that smells funny. And sometimes, something might look just outright suspicious. Please don't ask me to define that for you. If I look a something and I just can't trust it - it doesn't go in my mouth, period. I've been known to take stuff apart to avoid hitting offensive food. The biggest evil on a plate - peas, cauliflower, beans, cooked baby carrots, broccoli and gulash (a Hungarian meaty stew). When we have kids, poor Ant is the one who's going to have to tell them to finish off their greens. I'm just going to sit there and make a bad example of myself. Oy.
I did get better at it (I now eat zucchini, eggplant and even artichoke), but it takes a lot of courage and determination on my/Ant's behalf. He'll never get me to eat broccoli though. Ever. Even when we're married. Mark my words.
2. I hate going to the doctor. My dad says that until it's green and falls off, I don't go, and he's not wrong one bit. I grew up a healthy kid, and never got into anything serious or phobia inducing (and my uncle's a dentist, so no much trouble there). I think I'm secretly a hypochondriac. I just dread going to the doctor with something as small as a cough, and come back with some mystery diagnosis. When I have to get bloodwork done I literally lose sleep over it. My record of doctor avoidance is when I fell badly while ice skating and did somethinng to both my ankles. I was a cripple for two months, in enourmous pain, and when I finally scheduled an appointment, it stopped hurting, and I canceled it. I never found out if I cracked or broke anything, but ever since I have a strange bump on my left ankle.
3. I can't figure out people's age. I can mis-figure it by a decade. I blame it on having two baby-faced parents and having been one myself until a few years ago. Sorry, but when your dad looks for years like your older brother (and that's no empty compliment, believe me), there's no way you'd be able to tell a person in their 30s from their 40s. For the most part, anyway.
4. Also on the people front, I can't remember people's names. Ok, I can't remember a lot of specific details like dates, street names and such. History classes, as much as I liked them, were a nightmare around exam season. I am, on the other hand, great at remembering faces and getting from one place to the other using visual ques alone. But names? Nope. I think my memory works on patterns and by association. My spelling is horrible too. I speak three languages and I use the spellchecker extensively in all three. OSX's dictionary widget is my friend.
5. If you knew me only by the way I organize my library, my computer files or my work you'd never believe it - but I'm the messiest person alive. My desk, if I ever get to clean it, remains uncluttered for maybe five minutes. I believe in the pile, on the desk or (for the lack of space) on the floor. I rarely miss paying a bill or lose things, and if I do, it's mainly just because I can't remember where I put it (don't ask me how the camera ended up on the DVD case on the other side of the apartment, I have no clue). Once a year a go and do a massive cleanup operation and throw away things, and file other things away (in a precise, particular order). But between those annual cleanups? Habalagan hogeg*
6. I'm the only one allowed the clean the bathroom. My sister and I started participating in the weekly house chores when we were little. Over the years, we took up more and more responsibility, until at some point - I was taught how to clean the bathroom. And it had turned into quite the pet peeve. I was the only one cleaning the toilet in every dorm room/apartment I ever lived in. I don't know why, but it just has to be done my way. When we moved in together, it became clear very quickly, that Ant is a persona non grata in the bathroom if he brings Clorox with him. My way only, sweety. Sorry.

Suki would like to add: "She also chases me around the house, talking Hebrish** gibberish and flashing this little silver box at me a million times a minute. That's weird".

* In Hebrew "disorder rules", pretty much.
** The joy of every bi-lingual kid: the mix of Hebrew and English. Often in one sentance, sometimes in the same word. It totally messes up your syntax.

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2 Comments:

At 7:19 PM, February 10, 2007, Blogger Dawbis said...

will you please come clean my bathroom? i can't stand cleaning the bathroom... i make my husband do it! hehe.

 
At 1:26 PM, February 12, 2007, Anonymous Menachem Rath said...

Hmmm... I wonder how you'll feel with a child of your own who has his/her very particular eating habits. I'd love taking your kids to a Ruth's Chris steakhouse Ant is welcome too. Come to think about it, they have the most delicious shoe-string fries you ever ate. And nice green veggies...
Revenge is at hand!!!

Love,
Dad

P.S. the famous 5-year limit is off, but there's no need to rush

 

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