Tagged February 19, 2007

I was thrilled to be tagged by the luscious (no seriously, check her out) Meta as this is not only Monday but a HOLIDAY Monday and I’m still in a little bit of denial about the fact that right now I’m at work and not in bed, snuggling up next to a certain dark, handsome, rugged man.

Being tagged = good because being tagged = Clink doesn’t have to come up with an idea all on her own and therefore being tagged = you don’t have to read some more drivel about me freaking out about growing up. Yay!

I’ve actually done this before, the “Six Weird Things About Me.” (Except last time, it was five.) However, seeing as I am a very strange person, another six ain’t no thing. In fact, I could probably do this every day for the next five years and still not run out of weird things about me.

Anyway:

1. I can’t wear tights or stockings. Not won’t. Not don’t want to. CAN NOT. There’s something about the feeling against my skin and the slight sag at the crotch and the icky control top that makes me shudder (including right this moment) whenever I think about it. It dates back to when I was younger, before my parents decided that they’d much rather play tennis or go to brunch on Sundays, when they forced us to go to church. There was nothing worse than sitting in Sunday School, holding in a primal scream because OMIGOD TIGHTS ARE SOME MEDIEVAL FORM OF TORTURE AND AM I REALLY EXPECTED TO LEARN ABOUT THAT BURNING BUSH UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES? I have a horrible memory, but one thing I do vividly recall from my childhood is racing back to my father’s car with his keys, ahead of my entire family, so that I could jump into the backseat, rip off the tights, curl them into a ball and breathe a huge sigh of relief. To this day, I will go bare legged in sub zero temperatures and risk frostbite and subsequent amputation rather than put on stockings or tights.

2. I watch a plethora of shows that I am way too old to be so invested in (see: Hills, The and Fever, Maui) but the ones I am most embarrassed about are DeGrassi and Insant Star on The N. I only recently revealed my obsession to M and he thought it a bit odd that I am so obsessed with the goings on of Canadian teenagers but seriously people? There’s some great television being made up north (in addition to some amazing snack cakes – I still dream about May Wests, which no one outside of Montreal has ever heard of but OMIGOD IF YOU LIVE IN MONTREAL AND CAN GET THEM, EMAIL ME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD).

3. I sometimes have dreams that include other bloggers, including ones I’ve never met and some who I have no idea what they look like.

4. I am psychotically superstitious when it comes to my alma mater’s basketball team (note to them: You are playing tonight and, for the sake of my sanity, you MUST WIN because the loss on Saturday? It hurt my heart and even though everyone is saying you’re in the tournament already, I am not so certain so let’s get another check in the win column, ok?). If I’m watching a game and they’re winning, I won’t move a muscle and I CERTAINLY will not change the channel during a commercial. If they’re losing, I will shift positions, put on different clothes, change channels, turn the TV off and on and possibly even switch rooms because CLEARLY I am in control of the ebb and flow of the game. Also, I watch the game on mute because otherwise I tend to yell at the announcers, in response to their idiotic or biased commentary, more than is considered socially acceptable.

5. We all know that I’m afraid to fly. That’s nothing new. However, I have a ritual whenever I board a plane: I kiss my hand and then touch the outside of the plane before stepping inside. Once I’m situated, I put on M’s noise-canceling headphones, hold the Pink Dog, do my cross and then, in my head, I talk to my dead grandfather and dead uncle up until take off. During take off, I count 30 seconds because my sister once told me that the first 30 seconds after take off are the most dangerous. After that, I’m able to calm down for a bit until, of course, we hit some turbulence and I inevitably start to cry and declare impending doom.

6. Speaking of flying, whenever a family member or close friend is flying, I track their flight online for the entire duration. I’m essentially on the edge of my seat until the computer tells me: landed, taxiing to gate.

I, uh, probably shouldn’t do any more of these things because reading over the above seems to just reiterate my secret fear that I am TOTALLY FUCKING INSANE.

Happy Monday, y’all.