Don't worry, I like me this way

Minor issues

1. I have an intense dread of corduroy. I have incredibly bad reactions to corduroy pants, especially baggy ones in drab colors. Any colors. If they are well fitted the reaction is less awful but I do feel some discomfort. This is on other people, I myself object to wearing corduroy clothing. Although, having said that, I did have a pair of pale grey cord shoes from Royal Elastic that I adored.Shoes, OK; pants, NO. Unless you are my girlfriend’s 4 year old running around a playground.
2. I don’t like the numbers 4 or 10. It started as a Chinese superstitious quirk. Now I avoid the numbers 40, 44, 444, 14 as well. I don’t take pieces of fruit in 4s, 10s, 14s (no one should, by the way, anything more than 5 at a time looks like hoarding) or anything that I can add up to 4, like 2 and 2. I don’t hold stretches in counts of 10. I don’t book flights on the 4th or the 14th (or the 10th of course). I’d rather not stay in a guesthouse that is no.4. And on and on it goes. It drove my ex insane. All the more reason to continue I suppose.
   He leans to the side to fart. It’s not an artform honey, it’s gas, you don’t need a whole ritual to welcome it. Should we do a whole song and dance before we sneeze? Do we have drumrolls for burps? Should we frame the things you dig out of your nose? Answer is no. Of course he would say that just because I don’t have gas (it’s true, I’m biologically a freak of nature; I also never ever get bitten by insects), what would I know. In addition to this, he would also take the chance to remind me that he is always right, I’m always wrong, and everything that goes wrong in the world is my fault. And apparently I never get bites because I have sour blood. Both my exes had habits but whilst I didn’t kick up a huge stinking fuss about hygiene, eating habits, gas etc., I got told off for disliking a number. But anyway, I accept illogical behaviour in other people; in fact, sometimes it can become my favourite thing about people. Ah well.
   There are buildings that don’t have a level 13 but leave it blank, so what’s the problem? I don’t go about my day pretending 4pm doesn’t exist.
3. I like to write lists. And to cross-reference. And to put everything in categories. And to have everything alphabetised. I dream of having an index (yet another list, a super list, if you will) of all my lists, and cross reference all my lists with each other, and order all my lists in categories, and have all the categories ordered and color coded. I find databases appealing.
   In my family, it is entirely hereditary. My father does the exact same thing. His sister does it too. We even write our lists in the same way. It’s a little scary, but it’s a great alternative to proving paternity, aside from DNA tests and monogamy.
4. I’m attracted to spectacles and calculators. I developed a crush once on a guy at uni the instant he pulled out the big calculator people use for graphs, the only thing holding me back was that he didn’t wear glasses. This changed when he admitted to wearing contacts. Never did anything about it though. Shame.
   I would just like to point out that whilst I dislike the number 4, I don’t skip over it in a list. That is just dysfunctional. If I were, say, constructing a building, I would not skip over the numbers 4 or 14. Just like you shouldn’t force religions, gym memberships or insurance policies on others, you shouldn’t be bombarding them with your own severe lack of sense everyday either. Share your wisdom by all means, but don’t ram it down peoples throats until they hand you the shovel themselves.
5. I am physically addicted to owning (not just reading) magazines. I don’t like reading magazines in newsagents or bookstores. I dislike borrowing them from friends too. It has to be mine before I read it. In addition, I want to put them in alphabetical order, categorise them and write a list of all the categories of magazines that I have (Art, Fashion, Health, Makeup, Photography, Finance etc) and also have subcategories (Fashion – USA, Europe, Asia, Australia) and then in each subcategory alphabetise the titles. And order each issue by date. I want a database of my magazines. Cross-referenced, of course.
   I’m even worse with books and CDs.
6. I don’t like seeing shorts (knee length or anylength) worn with sneakers and socks. I don’t cope well, unless it’s for a good reason (tennis, basketball, football, that’s about it). I don’t like most leather jackets either. There is a great one by Ralph Lauren for men though in a dark tan colour that I highly admire though... very soft and excellent cut, absolutely plush.
7. I am allergic to vodka, cheap champagne, and certain songs including ‘End of the World’, ‘No Woman No Cry’, ‘Ordinary People’, ‘If You Leave Me Now’, and ‘Wonderful Tonight’. Any exposure at all will result in severe nausea, migraines, tantrums and tears.
8. I have issues with indecision. Especially in males. I don’t like to be around to witness the miracle of deciscion. I don’t want to hang around waiting for the light to switch on. I would rather, quite frankly, go floss my teeth, which is the most boring thing to me in the world, but something I find far, far, FAR less painful. I don’t want to know until after the ‘EUREKA’ moment has been had. I don’t even like seeing such behavior in my own self. This is where obsessive list-making comes in handy (i.e. list of pros, list of cons, list of choices, list of outcomes, and everything cross-referenced). Tick, tick, check, check. Sorted.
   And you thought I was a hypocrite didn’t you? I’m not. Neurotic and impatient, yes. But not hypocritical. I would never do it to you, so why would you put me through it?
9. I have trouble responding to stupid or obvious questions. A prime example is "Are you asleep?". Why would you bother? Even if you were just making chit chat it hardly seems worth the imminent risk of being bludgeoned to death with a chiro-approved pillow (overpriced block of foam). The only physically possible answers would either be a half-snort/snore or a very irritated "not right now, DUH" anyway. INNIT? This is NOT one of those habits that I find charming and delightful in anybody, not even myself. I do it myself once in a while when I take stupid pills instead of vitamins. (I call people on their home numbers and ask them where they are when they pick up.) I’m still upset with myself.
10. I sometimes discuss, quite cheerfully, the fact that my breasts are smaller than they once were, and should I just keep my hands on them at all times to make sure the rest of them don’t take off too etc.