Collection of Quirks

What are your quirks? I've recently been thinking about the things that I hate, that make other people go, "huhh? That bugs you??"

Here's my list!

- The Macaroni Sound - you know, the squishing, squelching, disgusting sound of cheesy macaroni being stirred in a big pot. PUKE!!!

- Potato Eyes - there's a story to this one...when I was in college, my mom gave me a box of potatoes. I put them behind the door in my dorm, in a nice dark, cool corner. When I went to get a potato to cook a while later, I lifted the lid to get a beautiful, round, red, potato, and I was bombarded with CREEPY POTATO EYES!!! They had started sprouting in the box and all I could see were potato stalactites (or is it stalagmites?). Freaked me right out. Now, I can't even touch one of those furry purple potato eyes. My husband bugs me about it all the time, and has been known to chase me around the kitchen with a growing potato. *shudder*

- Sometimes my fingernails feel like they are 'sticking' to the skin underneath, and I have to pull the skin away or it gives me the heebie-jeebies.

- I am terrified of the dark. I've been able to control it since our baby was born, and I've had to stumble around in the dark with no choice in the matter. But often, when I'm coming back from the nursery, I do that silly "I'm-not-actually-scared" run/walk and then dive into bed. My understanding husband will cuddle with me and gently say, "Snakes?" And I nod, make sure every appendage is safely under the covers, and snuggle into him.

- I HATE cold dishwater or bathwater. Especially the dishwater that you've been soaking that disgusting casserole dish in. It gives my belly the woopie-wawpees. This is another thing that my stellar husband will rescue me from, no questions asked. He's the best :D

- I get really bugged when someone switches the song on the radio halfway through. If you hear the first couple notes of a song and don't like it, you need to change it NOW. If you're too stupid to recognize that it's a song you don't like, you deserve to be forced to listen to the whole thing.

- When I'm cutting sweet potatoes, I NEED to eat some of it. I've tried to resist, but my mouth waters like crazy and I feel all weird inside unless I take a nice big chomp of crunchy yam. mmmmm!!!

- I'm very picky about bananas. I love to eat them, as bananas. But I HATE them in fruit salad (what a way to ruin a good fruit salad! The poor grapes, apples, oranges and kiwis don't deserve such torture!), smoothies (the first time I got a Booster Juice, I accidentally ordered one that had a banana in it, and I almost cried. My husband can also attest to this. He even offered to switch smoothies with me, but his had a banana in it too. Tragic!), and cereal (ICK! Cheerioes and bananas? Gag me!). But, I love banana bread.
I also will.not.eat a banana that has any black on the skin. I believe this is hereditary, because my mom always comments on how my dad is a princess when it comes to bananas. If you ask my dad about this, he would probably say "I have no idea what you're talking about. I have no recollection of this!". But it's true. Because of this affliction, when there's a banana with black on it, I will strategically place it in the fruit bowl so that my husband eats it. [insert maniacal laughter here]

These are all the ones I can think of for now. This might be a recurring blog post theme as I think of more!

Comment with your quirks!

Towels with a Capital "T"

My Gramma had these Towels. Your grandmother probably has them too. These Towels are not your ordinary Towels. When Gramma looks at these towels, she hears beautiful harp melodies and angel voices singing. These are thee Towels.


My Gramma's Towels were white, with flowers along the bottom. She always had them nicely folded on the bar in the bathroom - all orderly, with the bath-sized ones on the bottom, then the hand-wiping ones, then the facecloths. They looked quite nice, if you were into white Towels with flowers.


There was an unwritten rule about these Towels. You must. not. touch. these Towels. Why, you ask? When I was younger, I didn't get it. They are just towels - with a lowercase "t". A couple times, I was tempted to dare to wipe my wet hands on them, but I chickened out at the last second, for fear of the Wrath Of The Touched Towel.


I have since realized, with terror, that the Towel is hereditary. It skips a generation and infiltrates into your psyche. I HAVE THE TOWELS! I got a set of hideous orange towels from my mom's friend. Ok, they're not hideous, but they definitely aren't my favourite coour. But, it's a SET of towels. A set, I tell you! Four of each! Matching! This is very exciting to me. The rest of my towels are a conglomeration of mixed up styles, sizes and eras. I love each of them individually - but to me, a set of towels is especially thrilling. They are all set up nicely on the bar, bath-sized ones on the bottom, then the hand-wiping ones, then the facecloths. They look quite nice, if you're into orange Towels.

Politeness Polka

You've done it before.


You're walking up the steps to go to the post office. You see someone inside, walking towards the door, so you move aside so they can come out of the door first. They do the same. So, you take a step towards the door in order to open it for them to come through. They do the same. You both gesture, through the door, that the other person should go first. You both laugh, and gesture again. It's a neverending dance in front of the door.


It's like the Polka - without the sweaty pits and accordion music.

People Are Silly

My sister Ace wanted me to start up a blog. She thinks I'm funny. I think I'm probably over-opinionated, but she insisted that I start this blog. So, here it is.

At first, I had no idea what I would write about. Ace claimed everything I say is hilarious.
I love pipecleaners.
Are you laughing yet?

Anyway, I didn't have anything to write about. Until now!

I am a beginner violin player, and have started practicing with a church group. After I played in public for the first time, I received some very nice compliments. They were lovely, but I found something very odd about them.

Every person accompanied their compliment with a "I'm playing the violin" miming action.
Example: "I loved your *extends left arm, pretends to hold a violin, and then pretends to draw the bow across the strings*! It was so lovely!"

One man even hummed along with his action. "Oh, I didn't know you hmmm-haa-hmmmm-ed!*crazy violin playing* Good job!"

People are silly. And I love it!