1. I constantly calculate the overall cost of a gallon of anything. .25 ounces of Chanel No. 5 costs $95.00. 1 ounce of the stuff, therefore, costs $380.00. There are 128 ounces in a gallon. The cost of 1 gallon of Chanel No. 5 comes to $48,640.00. Before tax.
I refuse on principle.
2. I'm crazy-ticklish.
I make myself quite vulnerable, telling you this. My son and his friends are infinitely amused at my response to someone walking up behind me and poking me in the ribs. An instinctual, gutteral, altogether UN-Princess-Di sound, like "HUhnggggg!" comes screaming out of me, and I jump 3 feet into the air.
I've been known to accelerate wildly if you grab my knee while I'm driving. Just don't do it; you might lose your life.
3. I'm allergic to my cubicle.
I'm not sure if it's psychosomatic or mere dust on the carpeted cubicle walls, but 8 a.m. Monday mornings bring me to such sneezing and nose-blowing fits that I'm sure my coworkers want to kill me. Gone are those cute little sneezes I used to emit. It's more like BLAHhhhhhhhhhhh-BLOOOOO!; scaring holy hell out of all my poor coworkers. I'm sorry. It's incontrollable.
4. I'm terrified of heights, but I love rollercoasters.
Stand me on a kitchen chair to change a lightbulb and I want to vomit. Looking over the edge of anything, my knees, calves, and pee-hole tingle. Yes, my pee-hole. I can't even view heights on a television show without feeling nauseous.
Still, get me on a rollercoaster, and I'm in heaven. The initial climb makes me a nervous wreck, but the dooooooownnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn is a thriller. Upside down, rightside up, freefalling, front row...I'm there, screaming and laughing and loving it. Whoo Hooo! Let's get back in line!
5. Since my son left for the army, I have a recurring dream: People walk into my house.
They're everywhere, and I cannot get them to leave. If I get them out the front door, I turn around to find more have come in the back door, or are just standing in the bedrooms. I resort to violence in every dream, to get them out of my house.
I have two interpretations for this dream: 1) I fear someone walking in the door, and having no protection; and 2) I am protecting my solitary existence.
6. I make Gourmet Ramen Noodles.
I can make 19-cent ramen noodles worth your while: I add peas, shrimp, and thai chili paste, and then scatter green onions and pepper over the top. I don't imagine there's that many varieties in the Asian grocery store just so you can add water, jack.
7. Can I have 7+ weird things? I might have more. I e-mail myself all the time. Memos, blognotes, reminders: "Get bday card," "make a will," "don't forget the ramen noodles in the 'weird' blog."
8. I try to write all of my dreams in a Dream Journal. It took me 10 years to fill the first one, and it's full of strait-jacket material, such as "I'm crawling down the yellow line in the middle of Bradley Avenue..." and "I've sprayed salt water all over the slugs in my living room, and now they crunch under my feet when I try to walk."
Sweet Dreams, ya'll. I tag you, even if you've done it before.
Hmph. I know you have more.