I know. Strange.

I just sort of forgot about it really. Nothing personal. It's not that I don't have loads to say(because you know I'm filled with rants), but I just haven't been bothered to write them down. Sigh.

Anywho. The reason for this entry is that GerardBrennan has tagged me to do a list of my seven strangest habits. (Seven seems a very abitrary number. I wonder who came up with that?) I don't know if these are strange, (as they seem normal to me), but as Ben Stein always says, "I shall do my best," and I shall, to please you, my dear, faithful readers who are dying to know.

1.) I like to eat my foods in a certain order. This encompasses what I like least to what I like best. However, this does not just extend to your average peas, potatoes and pork chop meal. (Order: Peas, Pork Chop, Potatoes -<if mashed, otherwise they get bumped below pork chop>.) I also eat the outside of my hamburger first, because I like the less condimenty part least. I also flip over my donut and eat the underside pastry bit first, and then eat the icing. Of course, this is all capped off by my Smarties colour order which is: brown, yellow, green, orange, pink, purple, blue, red. (Unless I'm in England, and orange gets bumped up as it actually tastes like orange, and therefore deserves a better spot on the list. It's still underneath blue and red though, cause I don't actually like orange flavoured chocolate, but I appreciate the effort the smartie is making with it's different flavouring.)

2.) If I'm telling a story, I sometimes exaggerate my role a little. Not meaning to lie exactly, because every time someone says to me, "You didn't really say that?" (And they always do, because I only exaggerate when there's been a load of foul mouthed invectives slurring out of my mouth after someone has been a real jerk.) Anyway, "You didn't really say that?" I always answer, "No." Because I didn't say it, but it's what I wanted to say. Joel doesn't even ask anymore. He knows that I don't lie, I just expect people to know that I didn't really say such things, but that I just really wanted too. Ironically, I abhor lying, and I'm terrible at it.

3.) Contrary to popular belief, I'm a bit shy, but only in certain situations. I have a very difficult time ordering food in a restaurant. I can never look the server in the eye, and always stammer a little bit.  

4.) I have a three-time politeness rule that I'm not consciously aware of, it just comes into play whenever I'm at someone else's house. (Meaning - I don't do it on purpose, it just ALWAYS plays out like this, and it wasn't until Joel brought it to my attention that I was even aware of it.) Basically, if you offer me a drink, I will wait till you've offered it to me three times before I will accept. The reasoning is this: The first time I'm saying no in case you, (the offerer), were just being polite. And I don't want to be rude by accepting if you didn't really mean it. The second time is for the same reason. ("Are you sure you don't want something.") Again, I can't be positive of your motives here. Maybe you only have one last Ginger Ale, and you wanted to save it for yourself, but out of societal mores you feel the need to offer me that Ginger Ale. In good conscience, I cannot accept. The third time, I KNOW that you really want me to have a drink,and aren't just being polite, and therefore I feel that it is reasonable for me to accept it.

5.) I like to listen to words in conversations, pick a certain one out, and rearrange it in alphabetical order in my head, and then try and make up (max 3) new words out of it using all of the letters. (The word chosen obviously has to have some length to it.)

6.) I'll never take the first straw or napkin out of a dispenser. I'm always suspicious that somehow the person before me might have touched it and that they have pee hands.

7.) Obviously from numbers 1-6, you probably have the impression that I'm a very orderly, OCD-ish type person who is probably insanely organized. To an extent this is true. Except for spatial organization. My closet and drawers are a disaster. I can't for the life of me figure out how to make groceries fit in the area provided, so I usually just throw them all in. (even if I've only got like 6 apples and a can of soup.I'll stand in front of the cupboard for hours bewildered at where they should go. Eventually, I just chuck it in and slam the door shut. Unfortunately, the next person to open the door usually gets smacked in the eye with a tumbling force of chicken noodle.) Forget packing a suitcase or the car; we'd never get anywhere.


I think that's it. (Well, it's seven anyway, and since seven is the number, seven must be the number of strange habits that I have. Six is one short, and eight is one too far. Nine is right out.) Forget tagging. I never blog, therefore I don't know anyone. (Or, everyone I know, has probably already been tagged.) The buck stops here.

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It's only too bad there isn't much new to replace it with... ( warning: sad, self-indulgent post ahead)

Joel and I went to Kingston on the weekend for some work thing of his. (I don't know what exactly - I wasn't really paying attention. Boring library stuff I'm sure.) I tagged along because I thought it'd be a nice mini-break and I really like staying in hotels. (Even though I know they're really germy and full of things that strangers have touched. Not the best place for a germaphobe like myself, but I am nothing if I am not a paradox.) 

Most of you aren't aware that I went to Uni in K-town, but you are now. Cause I just told you. (And Yes, I DID go to Queen's AND that does make me better than you. :-)) Anywho, Kingston has changed. It's not the mecca I remember. The poutine tastes different and made me feel slightly yucky, the town itself seemed dingy and gray, (could have been the rainy day mind you), and they tore down half the houses on my old street. Which is such crap. Those houses were awesome. Sure, they were slightly disgusting and probably borderline condemnable, but c'mon. Where's the respect for history? Very disappointing indeed. 

Number two on my list. My car, Fast Eddie, is no more. Which saddens me more than the loss of a 13 year old mint green ford escort should. It's just I had that car for 10 years and I loved it. It was my first (and only) car.  And I'm now stuck without wheels until I can get a new one which totally blows. I can't even drive Joel's car as it's standard and I don't know how to drive standard. (He tried to teach me once but it was such an exercise in frustration. Especially after he admitted to telling me to do the wrong things.) BUT, if I do get a new car soonish, I totally want a PT Cruiser. They're the awesomest. 

And lastly - I heard that Cormac McCarthy just won a Pulitzer for 'The Road.'  Seriously? Am I the only person who thought that it sucked big time? What a bunch of drivel.

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I'm clearly not a big MJ fan nowadays because, well, you know... but when I was a kid, Michael Jackson was the coolest thing ever. My brother and I had his thriller album, (Yes - album), and that and a Hollies LP were our favourite tunes. (Unfortunately our thriller album melted in the sun when we left it on our deck. For those not in the know - vinyl melts.)

This brings me to one of my biggest regrets in life. When Thriller the music video came out I was quite young. My brother, at three years senior, begged to be allowed to stay up and watch it when it debuted. Of course this resulted in nightmares for months but it is now a cherished childhood memory for him. And for my parents. They like to remember his fear and laugh. Weirdos.

This is not my regret.

I obviously grew up, and in the land of MuchMusic and MTV had many opportunities to view said video and watch it I did. (Especially around Hallowe'en when it was on constantly. That and the Monster Mash. And I don't care what anyone says, the MM is lyrically gold.) 

But, and here's the regret: 

I never learned the dance. 

Everyone knows what dance I'm talking about. When MJ and the zombies are doing their super-cool choreographed moves and it makes you jealous inside. Jealous that you aren't one of those dancing zombies.

Sure, I could learn the moves now. It's possible. But where would I break them out? And would the young punks at whatever club I go to to showcase my skills even know where my super-fly moves are coming from? Probably not. 

And, as everyone knows, the dance only works when at least three people are doing it. Three people send a statement of awesomeness. On your own, you just look dumb.


P.S. I want to change my background settings to have blue background and white type so that I can feel like Doogie. (I used to type essays like that in high school - shameful secret that should never have been revealed or inspiring tale of fantastic-ness? You decide.)

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I like to think of myself as pretty fearless. I thrill at the thought of heights, laugh in the face of big vicious animals (not literally in their faces though, I'm not an idiot), and am psyched to walk through a haunted house. (What a lame example). However, I am not so arrogant as to say that I am without fear. Here is a list of things that scare the bejeezus out of me (in no particular order).

1.) Clowns
2.) Scary dolls
3.) bugs - especially those of the arachnid variety.
4.) Weird foods. (And by this I mean anything that isn't completely bland and plain. I'm Irish, whatdoyawant?)

Although it is ranked number three on this list, I'd have to give bugs the edge over anything else. (See, I told you. No particular order). I hate bugs. I loathe bugs. I shudder at the very thought of them. And, although it would completely destroy our ecosystem, I'm totally for ridding the world of them.

This brings me to why Joel is The Greatest Husband on The Planet. Many of you already know this, (jeeeaaaallllous Erin?), and think that I am very wise for snapping Joel up before he had time to think about it. I too, have congratulated myself many times on my coup d'etat. However, I'm not going to sit here and list all of Joel's virtues. This is because (a.) he would gain a swollen head, which is something I don't need, and (b.) he'd become a wee bit too comfortable in his position, which I also don't need. As all Seinfeld watchers know, it's all about hand.

I digress.

One of the reasons Joel earned the title of TGHoTP is because of his ability to kill bugs. He does so with a grace and ease I didn't think possible. He also does so without complaint. A LOT of people, (dudes included), offer a namby-pamby excuse about why they can't kill bugs, (they have a right to live on the planet too, wah wah wah), and refuse to do so. They'll trap it and put it outside. This does me no good, as I imagine the creepy-crawly slithering its disgusting self back to me. To GET me. I can't live like that. 

But not my Joel. He comes running. He comes running to kill. And it doesn't matter what time of day it is, or where he is, or what he's doing. If I start screaming, he comes to lay a smackdown.

I like to give Joel a hard time on his blog, but for his willingness to kill bugs, (even at *gasp* five in the morning when I used to get up for work, and the little bastards had crawled up the drain into the bathtub where they'd lie in wait for me. I'd get Joel up, even though he didn't have to be up for work until much later), and for many other things, Joel is the awesomest.

P.S. This blog entry was written after a vicious attack on my person by one of the aforementioned bugs. I am clearly delusional with gratitude.

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