T.M.I.

Awhile back, Colt tagged me to post 6 quirks; I haven’t posted for two reasons:

First: I just couldn’t think of six quirks that didn’t revolve around public restrooms or the bathroom in general. What can I say? I try to drink 100+ ounces of water everyday, so I spend a lot of time there. Enough time to analyze way too much about myself relative to the surroundings.

Second: I admit that, in general, I’m just not a huge fan of the game “Tag." I blame it on the fact that I have short legs, which means I'm a very slow runner, which ultimately resulted in my always being "It" during recess-tag. Not that I didn’t try. Growing up, I thought I was fast – my legs were moving just as quickly as anyone else’s – but I just can’t cover much distance in my strides. I was forever chasing other kids to no avail. (It's nice to be the one being chased occasionally! I don't even want to consider what this did to my emotional/social development...) Anyway, I realize this has nothing to do with blog-tag, but I can’t get over the stigma of that word. Tag. I hate it. (Can this count as a quirk, Colt?)

Anyway, lest Colt think I’m ignoring him, I’ll do my best to list a few more “quirks.” (Please note that some will be about public restrooms. You’ve been warned.)

• I loath the sound of cracking bones. It’s like finger nails on a chalk-board. (This sucks considering all my back/neck problems and the hours of time I’ve logged at the Chiropractor.)
• I subconsciously love the feeling of things between my fingers. My grandma had these curtains with fringe and I still sit in the same spot in her living room and run that fringe through my fingers. Also, I never noticed this, but Kenny pointed out that I run pages through my fingers while I read. Thinking about it, I always have...despite frequent paper cuts.
• I get stage fright in public restrooms when there is someone in the stall directly next to me. I don’t like that they can see my feet and figure out who I am later. I don’t like that they can hear me doing my thing. Also, I have to rip the bottom portion off the toilet paper off and not use it. The idea of those sqares of T.P. being touched by the stall's previous occupant grosses me out, and I can't use it.
• I’ve thrown up maybe four or five times in my entire life, but have a super sensitive gag-reflex. Particularly when eating foods of a certain texture or seeing loose hair (see below).
• When detached from one’s body (human/animal) hair grosses me out. Showering at the gym is out of the question for this reason. When our drains get clogged, Kenny has to clean it out. Can’t do it. No way, no how. (I blame the month I worked at a tanning place. Cleaning out those beds... oh, the horror.) Props to all the hair dressers out there. I could never do your job.
• I get really embarrassed for other people. Not myself, so much, but for others. I usually have to look away or cover all but my eyes. Watching The Office is brutal. (Brutal, but totally necessary if I’m to make light of my own work environment.)
• Because this post needs a photo, I'll end with this quirk: I heart old men. Actually, elderly couples holding hands while on walks melts my heart and brings me to tears (so sweet), but Old Men... they're something else. Especially when they're fashionably quirky (think bow ties and checkered blazers). Like this guy. I just want to sit cross-legged at his feet and stare at him and make him tell me stories about his life way back when. And then I want to raid his closet.

I tag...YOU! ALL OF YOU! If you read this, consider yourself IT. You can’t outrun me here, sucka!

Picture Credit: The Sartorialist