Ah ha! I knew it! You were the one who killed Country Bear Jamboree at Disneyland!!!! Nah, I'm just kidding. They creep me out a little too. Quirk: I love a thin layer of potato chips on my sandwich. I'm very picky about this, though. They must be Ruffles Reduced Fat (they're crunchier and more potatoey than regular Ruffles), and they're only for certain kinds of sandwiches. Off the top of my head, turkey subs, bologna sandwiches, and the Subway Cold Cut Combo require a layer of Ruffles, with mayo either under or over the layer of potato chips. Quirk Part B: Knowing how weird it is, I never add them in public.
What exactly is "ruffled" when talking about sandwiches....? Regardless, it actually sounds rather nice.
It's the chips that are ruffled. They're thick and corrugated, much better than thin, greasy Lays brand. (These are American chips. We call those other things fries.)
When I find a smell disturbing, my nostrils will open wider, rather than closing somewhat. IDK why this is, but my mother also does it. Perhaps that is genetic? The little toe on my right foot is only 1 inch long, despite all my other toes growing normally. I have small holes in the tops of both my ears called preauricular sinus.
I still have nightmares about the animatronic band at Chuck E Cheese. Fuck that John Lennon looking robot thing. And your keyboard prop. Where's an EMP when you need one.
I laugh when I get hurt. Mostly kicks in after brain realizes we haven't taken lasting damage. Broke my little finger? Not so funny. Slip and fall down some stairs? Fucking hilarious.
Oddly, it's not the big animals that bother me. I've never been to a Chuck E. Cheese, but we had a Pistol Pete's here when I was a kid. They had one of those bands. I thought they were great when I was little. It's only as an adult that I can see how freaky the gaping mouths that disappear into the throats and giant eyes sleepily blinking out of sync really are. It's like they all have massive electronic concussions or something. Still, they don't bug me like the almost human ones do. I only discovered this phobia in 2010 when, at the age of thirty, I went to Disney World for the first time with three friends. It was a blast, one of the best weeks of my life, but oh the simulated humanity! Every time we went on one of those educational rides with animatronic people on them, I ended up in a seat where one or more of those robots repeatedly looked me directly in the eyes. You know how they bounce when they hit a mark? The father on the Carousel of Progress ride in Epcot would swing his neck in my direction, lock his immobile eyes with mine and stare into my soul while he swayed back and forth like a cobra. It was just as if he could see everything I'd ever done wrong, and was going to snap himself loose from the stage, skitter into the audience on previously unseen, mechanical spider limbs, unhinge his jaw, and devour me whole. Once inside, I would not be ground to death by gears. No. This mechanical man was hollow and housed in his gullet the very bubbling fires of hell! At least that was the impression I got. The Man from Uncanny Valley. ETA: I should use that, right? I'm sitting down to write a short story immediately.
Poor thing is probably freezing. As much as I like the look of the Maine Coon, I'd never pay a penny extra for a cat that wasn't a mutt. Almost every trait you desire (except the extreme ones like complete hairlessness) is available in a feline with the genetic purity of a Motel 6 comforter at Spring Break, you just gotta go looking for a while. More importantly, pick one with the right personality for you. My first looked like the aforementioned Maine Coon, but his mom was just a cat, as presumably was his dad. She got out one night Next one was a calico, then a black cat with a lighter gray undercoat, then the daughter of a Siamese show cat who got knocked up when she took a mini-vacation from her pampered palace. She almost looked like a Russian or British Blue, but with her mother's long lean lines and voice.
I make weird noises. Last night my fiance was squeezing me at intervals because he knew I would make one o-x. "Eppo" or something. I don't care anymore, but I used to keep my food separate. I didn't like my food touching.
*scratches Chuck E. Cheese and Pistol Pete's off the catering list for the next WF gathering* I grew up in a small town that didn't have either, so I Googled to try to see the nefarious John Lennon dude. Didn't see that, but you'll both be happy to know Chuck E. Cheese broke up the band in November 2018. I won't link that article because there are pictures of a few of its various incarnations. The thing that gave me nightmares as a kid was Three Billy Goats Gruff. Every damn time we crossed an Interstate bridge I squeezed my eyes shut tight and hoped that damned troll was sound asleep or out for the day. Do you know how many Interstate bridges we had to cross to get to grandma's???
I was already aware of this. Not even from my toxicology studies, but just from people telling me I was going to die because of my eating the core. That's why I just eat the entire apple all at once, no chewing.
I have OCD. Hardcore. "Never go outside and not take a bath after coming back home" bad. I have my keyboard exactly aligned with my monitor on the sides.
When I'm typing for any amount of time I have to have F5 key lined up with the center of my monitor just so I don't have to keep my head turned slightly for hours.
Some of my tics I would rather not discuss here. (I suffer from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, so a lot of things that I do are strange.) I do, however, unconsciously raise and move my eyebrows.
