So first of all, I know, I know. It's been MONTHS. Months. And you thought you were over me, you no longer looked to see if I was around, no longer cared if I cared. And then suddenly, here I am again. Consider this your bloggy booty call. I'm back. For tonight, at least. Just looking to have a good time is all. Guess I just didn't want to be alone tonight. Alone with these bizarre thoughts running through my head, that is. No, I haven't been drinking. I just can't stop thinking about you.
Here's what's on my mind: I thought I was pretty normal. I had a few hang-ups but nothing too major. Or so I thought. I have a friend who is in the same boat as me. The staying-home-with-two-girls-and-trying-to-deal ship. We talk a lot. Confide in each other. But over time it has become clear that maybe I'm over-sharing. She has pointed out that maybe my little quirks are more like a little bit of crazy. Neurotic. There, I said it. Neurotic. Yeah, I gotta touch of the neuroses.
Well, first came the banana incident. We were road tripping to some sort of children's activity, and my friend, let's call her Elaine, said she was going to snack on a banana. "Did I mind the smell?" This is where I paused. I ended up telling her that while the smell didn't bother me, I had this thing, where I had a really hard time looking at someone while they ate a banana. "huh?" Yeah, it's just so PHALLIC. It makes me uncomfortable. Like I'm a peeping Tom or something. Is that weird? Uh, yeah.
Ok, then there was the lunch incident. I was at her home around lunch time and she offered me something to eat. Pasta with chicken. As I said no, she noticed that I had to stifle a gag. "You don't like pasta with chicken?" Uh, no, I like pasta and I like chicken. Just not together. Hmmmmm.
Then out of the blue, in the middle of March, Elaine asks me if I like yogurt. Well, yeah, just not in the winter. "what?" Well, I eat it. But only in the summer. Oh, okay....
And then there was that time at the gourmet restaurant. They offered pomme frites (yeah, french fries) with mayonnaise. And so I drilled the waiter. Was it homemade mayo? Real mayo? Or some crappy Hellmans. Because that, I don't like it. But homemade stuff, yum-o! Elaine's eyebrow went up rather high on that one.
Okay, then I was having a bad day, and I kind of went off on her about how much I hate deli meats. That yes, I may have an all out fear of them. I can't even get myself to buy them at the grocery store for my husband and kids. They are that gross to me. (ACKK.. I'm gagging as I type this). It's their slimey feeling smelliness that gets to me is all.
I mean, we all have our hang ups, right? I guess mine are just centered around food. Hey, I'm not judging you for your issues with public toilets. Oh wait, that's me... yeah, so if I have to spend more than three minutes in one I start to go into a panic attack. Or you, you don't like to splash water on your face... oh wait, that's me, too. Hmmmm, well you, you out there, you're still afraid of the dark! Crap, that's me, too. And reader number 82, you twitch when someone touches your nose! Oh no, that would be me, as well.
Oh my god! I'm freaking nuts, aren't I? It's not just a few food quirks. I'm certifiable. Ah well, I gotta go. Need to make sure all the doors and windows are locked before it gets too dark out there.