Saturday, March 10, 2007

Weirdness Abounds

You may keep your cries of "Girl, where you BEEN?!" to yourself. I've been around, resting, reflecting, know, the usual. I've got a bunch of stuff that I need to blog about, including but not limited to: the best place to eat on the National Mall; the great furniture hunt of '07; support hos 2: the revenge; traveling with my mother; etc. Feel free to put in your votes for the post you'd most like to see.

Right now, however, I'll focus on rising to the challenge set by the music-diva Beth, and I'll tell you that this isn't the first time that I've been brought back to the world by a cup of coffey... [I've obviously been away from this for too long; that's the best pun I can manage.] Despite my rustiness, here we go with


  1. Is it cheating to start with one that I've talked about before? It's the one that comes to my mind first: I'm germaphobic. I'm not quite to the Howard Hughes stage, but that's the go-to joke for Mr. Fluff. I would rather do the pee-pee dance for an hour than use a public restroom (and the thought of a port-a-potty fills me with existential dread). When I wash my hands in a bathroom not my own, I use the paper towel I dried my hands with to open the door. My college boyfriend made the mistake of taking me to a petting zoo, where he touched a donkey. I refused to let him hold my hand for the rest of the day. I resent people who cough in public. I worry about the cleanliness of food made in restaurants. A LOT.
  2. I hate Seinfeld. I am apparently the only person in the free world and the developing nations who feels this way, but I loathe that show. I hate the way in which all of the marginal characters (which is everyone outside of the main four) are simply targets for ridicule for their human characteristics and at the worst moments, even their deaths are made trivial (e.g., George's girlfriend). I don't care the Elaine's dance is brilliant, or that the chemistry among the characters set the stage for all cast-focused sitcoms, or that it was arguably the first postmodern television show. I hates it.
  3. In a moment of perfect contradiction, I love really mean humor, particularly when it involves profanity. Billy Bob Thornton in Bad Santa makes me laugh till I pee myself (unless my option is a public bathroom, then see #1). Dan Savage, particularly his take on Rick Santorum? Deep love. David Rakoff, as quoted in Sarah Vowell's essay on the Disneyland Main Street Parade: "Look at all of the Communications Majors!" Awesome.
  4. I have a freakishly long torso. My height is average (5'6"), but my inseam is about 28 inches (if I weren't wearing heels, which I always am, but even then the best I can do is a 30 inch inseam). I'm consistently searching for tops that don't look like some weird late 90's belly shirts. Honestly, who wants to go there?! And before you get all racial on me--as in "isn't that an Asian thing?" (which, for the record, one of my colleagues did once!), I actually get it from my very Caucasian father, thank you very much.
  5. In my head, I have a really low voice. I know, skull acoustics make everyone hear her own voice differently than it sounds to others. But I'm firmly convinced that I have a semi-Marlene Dietrich voice, so when I hear it recorded (like when I call home and hear it on the answering machine) I'm often shocked by how chirpy it sounds. About a year ago, I was convinced that a message was actually from a friend of mine in high school, rather than my own. That's the length to which I will go to avoid the truth.
  6. I'm anti-touch. I consider myself generally a pretty warm person, but I really don't like to be touched by people. I'm not a big hugger, hand-shaker, back-patter, excited/scared hand-grabber, nudger, etc. I've had the occasional facial and pedicure, but I tend to avoid them. I can't bring myself to get a massage. (Naked touching is just too much for me to contemplate.) On airplanes, I like the window seat so that I can scrunch myself as far away from the middle-seater as possible. I cede the armrest immediately. While all of these avoidance strategies are adamantly in effect for strangers, they often hold true for friends and family as well. I dread the required pre-bedtime hug as much as my poor nephews do.

So there are some of my weirdnesses on display for y'all, just as a welcome back gift. I'd tag others, but I'm so far behind in my blog reading that I don't know who's done it already. If you haven't and you're feeling brave, jump in. Let me know and I'll retrospectively tag you!

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Anonymous Anonymous said...

I apologize for the impromptu gadzooks-I'm-happy-to-see-you-it's-been-months-let's-introduce-our-iPods-to-each-other hug I foisted on you when you returned for a visit from Ascesis U. My bad.

Sunday, March 11, 2007 10:36:00 PM  
Blogger kfluff said...

Here's the rub: 90% of the time (here I'm getting all mathematical), the people who apologize about the touching aren't the ones that really bother me. It's people who have no idea that they're freaking me out that are the main offenders. Perhaps you remember "The Factor", Anonymous? She of the back-rubbing, shoulder-grabbing, boundary violations? No matter how many times I moved away, blocked her hands, etc., she was all over me. eeeuwww.

Monday, March 12, 2007 8:24:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

All those months of therapy to purge The Factor--poof! Right down the drain.
Double eeeuwww.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007 11:57:00 PM  

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