Dangling Bananas and the Cleanliness of 'The Precious'
...I know, I know.
I may seem all gumdrops, pink sprinkles, and Virgin Strawberry Daiquiris...But really, I can be a little judgmental...A tad bit cynical...Even a dash pessimistic.
Yes, it's true.
Iain and I joke about my "obsessive compulsive" behaviors that aren't exactly obsessive compulsive, but more like "Cate's fucking neurotic".
CFN in medical terms.
Once again, I know I'm shocking you to the very core..Me? Neurotic?
Yes, it's true.
For example....
I don't like watching people eat bananas.
I would be more comfortable watching you pee, then watching you eat a banana.
Bananas are gummy, and slimy, and when people open their mouth to take another bite, rest assured there is half chewed banana slime dangling from the roof of their mouth...
DANGLING BANANA.
How disturbing does that sound?
I'd like to blame it on the phallic nature of the fruit...But I really have no problem watching someone eat a bratwurst or hot dog.
(Although I do snicker when I see women strategically buying cucumbers at the grocery store...)
It's just the bananas...
I also hate bad smells.
(I know, I'm crazy like that...)
I know that there are some people out there who do in fact enjoy certain foul smells such as rubber glue, red onions, or their own farts.
But I have a nose like a pregnant woman.
I have to use unscented deodorant, lotion, and moisturizer, as "Morning Country Meadow" or "Magical Rose Petal Showers" make me almost preferable to the natural aroma of BO.
If you're a big fan of Bath and Body Works' 'Sweet Pea', I know.
Wearing Fredrick's of Hollywood 'Eau de le Petite Prostitute'? I know.
And for the record -and according to Oprah- I should ONLY be able to smell your perfume if I HUG you.
When you get off the bus, I should not still smell you three stops later.
If you're standing next to me on the tube, rubbing your fingers on your scalp, and then proceed to sniff your nastified digits I will not only see you and gag uncontrollably, but will be able to smell your foul, dandruff-ed head that you haven't washed in 3 weeks.
This talent usually proves to be more torturous than helpful...Except for that one time where I could have won the 'Guess the Mysterious Smell in the Mini Baby Diaper' game at a baby shower if I had only spent more time writing my answers down, and less time scowling at everyone.
Perhaps my biggest smell nemesis is metal; Coins, cheap jewelry, or any piece of metal on any form of public transportation.
I even have to smell the zippers on jackets when shopping to make sure they won't leave a metallic smell trail on my hand.
(Old Navy is notorious for smelly metal.)
The smell of metal on my hands is perhaps the worst.
Keys are the devil. The first thing I do when I get home is wash my hands to get the money/key/door handle smell off and out.
I wash my hands BEFORE I go to the bathroom, no matter what...
Why would I put the nasties I picked up from the outside world onto the toilet paper that's gettin' all upclose and personal with "my precious"?
Maybe I'm just not a fan of metal in general because the shrill screeching of metal on metal makes my teeth feel like they're going to tear themselves out of my skull.
Knifes screeching against a plate, foil scraping a baking sheet, even a fork or spoon audibly clashing against someone's teeth or bowl,
"OH MY GOD! WHY? Why would you do that to me??"
To which the common reaction, mostly from my Mom, is,
"What? THIS?"
EERERRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHIIIIIIICCCCCCKKKKKK.
Which then causes me to curl up naked in the fetal position whilst chanting nursery rhymes to sooth my broken soul.
Perhaps it's because I've had root canals and cavities my entire life and it reminds me of teeth cleanings. Ya know, that part when they scrape your teeth with a fucking metal stick...
And never mind all the drilling and pounding and pulling that makes me want pull off my skin.
Another one of my obsessive-compulsive-annoying-neurotic-tendencies is my problem with what I like to call "Used Oxygen".
Our primo cuddle position includes my head on Iain's chest, with his warm "Used Oxygen" breath being released into my hair, instead of my face.
It's not a personal thing, it's not "I don't like YOUR used oxygen", I just don't feel like I'm getting the best air quality when stuffed under a duvet and the only regular new batch of air I'm getting has already been in someone else's lungs.
I understand this whole "Used Oxygen" theory is complete bullshit, but it's warm. It's used. It's not the fresh, colder air that exists and roams free outside the folds of a duvet.
But there are some stupid things that I do enjoy...Such as:
Drinking Yakult and imagining what all the "live" creatures are doing inside my stomach.
Doing shots of Sambuca even though I know I will most likely throw it back up again.
Getting sloppy dog kisses despite the ass breath.
The line "Or you can IM me if you want! IM is good! I'm still SweetCheetoKisses on AIM!" from GoFugYourself.
OooOooOooo and cat chins, especially if they're white.
All in all, I suppose I'm just really lucky that I'm with someone who isn't offended by my problem with his "Used Oxygen" and doesn't mind that I tell the Internet about my need to keep "the precious" clean with sanitary toilet paper.
Comments