No, seriously, be expecting a call from the Pope soon. I already talked to him, and he said he was cool with the fact that you're not Catholic. He said they're trying to open things up to "the masses".
Anyhoo. I know that I've got some strong opinions on some strange stuff, and those that love me, know me, and deal with it. Bless their little pea-picking hearts.
Iyam what Iyam, as Popeye would say, so I thought I might share with you some of the things that make me what Iyam. Enjoy my neurotic-ness.
Oh, and don't judge. You're neurotic too, I promise.
~ I refuse to buy a car that has the gas tank on the passenger side, on sheer principle. It's inefficient engineering and it shows that the car maker does not take the convenience of its' consumers into consideration. Soapbox down.
~ I cannot stand the sight or touch of popcicle sticks or unfinished wood of any kind. It literally causes a physiological reaction where my lips get dry and I start to break down in chills. Just thinking about it while writing this has made my lips dry up and tingle. Seriously.
~ I hate the sound of fingers scratching the fabric on the roof of my car. I recently not-so-gently reminded The Hubs of this when he haphazardly grabbed the Oh Shit handle and it sent me into a tizzy.
~ I can't stand it when The Hubs takes my car somewhere without me. The next time I drive it, it's on a different city's radio stations, he leaves the odometer on one of the trip meters instead of the main number, and he knocks off my seat belt hook, which usually lands under the seat never to be seen again. Every. Single. Time.
~ Background: At work we have one communal women's restroom with stalls, and one separate single restroom with a locking door. When ever I use the single room, I check the lock at least twice before doing my business. I will literally walk away from it, and back to it to double- and triple-check that it's locked. It's the one place that I really see my OCD come into play. Oh, and emails and blog posts.
~ I re-read emails and blog posts multiple times before I send them, and then even more afterward. It's a VERY obsessive compulsive behavior, and I don't know why I do it.
~ I love the southern tradition of eating salted peanuts in Classic Coke. I grew up with it, but people 'round these parts seem to think it weird. Huh.
~ I only like Andes mints after Olive Garden, and York peppermint patties after Skyline. They will sit around my house for months afterward if I have extra.
~ Except on very, very rare occasions, I refuse to see a movie that has a reputation for making people cry. The Notebook? I've heard it's awesome, but I've also heard that people cry like a baby at the end. Sorry 'bout your luck, Nicholas Sparks. Million Dollar Baby? Wouldn't see it even though everyone else was. (However, I've seen movies that I didn't know would make me cry, and were totally worth it. i.e. Pay It Forward, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, etc.)
Okay, I think I've shared enough of my neuroses for now. Do you still love me?