I can’t actually think of 25 whole things, and have spent the last couple days struggling to come up with just 10. So you get those.
I am also supposed to tag 25 people to do this as well, including the people who tagged me. Which is dumb, because they already did it, unless of course the whole point is to extinguish the meme more quickly, which is kindof smart. And so in that spirit, I tag nobody.
Chances are, if there are any things other than these that you don’t know about me, I don’t know them either.
1. I have a compulsive need to shove cotton swabs in my ears after showering. I HATE the feeling of water in my ears. I know it’s against the directions of “swab gently outside your ear only, DO NOT INSERT OR YOU’LL GO DEAF” but I can’t help it.
2. I have really good teeth. The braces when I was younger helped with the whole aesthetic impression of them, but the teeth themselves are crazy strong and healthy. I have basically adopted a habit of brushing once a day (mornings) and flossing only when I have popcorn or pulled-pork stuck in them. My dentist has given me the technical OK to go forth and continue with this plan, but to please floss a bit more. Not because my teeth need it, but because it hurts his soul to know that there are any more people out there not flossing.
3. I developed an annoying (but mysterious and non-contagious, according to the dermatologist) rash on my bikini area for a while. I thought it was due to waxing. Turns out, it was the brand of toilet paper I was using.
4. Our wedding vows included a line about “accepting what I know of you, and trusting in what I do not yet know.” Yesterday I found out this applies to Neil’s distaste for any form of baked cheese. Gratin. Mac & Cheese. Most Casseroles. Baked Brie. Deep-fried mozza sticks. I am (understandably, I think) devastated.
5. I am really not dealing very well with getting older. I’ve always been a bit sensitive about the furrow in my brow, but now that most people I meet peg me in my early 30’s rather than late 20’s (and that phrase “Mature for your age” can go bite my ass) I’m getting extra uppity about it. I seriously consider botox on a near weekly basis.
6. I have an unnaturally keen sense of smell. And it makes life difficult when preparing raw meat. If I detect the tiniest hint of fishiness in a piece of raw fish, or any sort of barnyard smell in strong meat, I’ll detect it even when the meal’s fully-cooked. And won’t be able to eat it. This made the switch to organic meat especially painful. But I just keep forcing myself through, hoping I’ll develop some sort of smell-tolerance.
7. Speaking of switching to organic, I’ve focused a lot this past year on eating more real foods. And I try my damndest to not ingest much in the way of “fake food” or chemicals. I still occasionally purchase and eat pre-packaged things (and would never be so impolite as to turn them down as a guest in someone’s home), and am certainly not a pinnacle of perfect health, it’s just my own little issue du jour. That said, if I know of a person who drinks a lot of sodas (especially diet), I am quietly judging them. If you drink a lot of pop, without realizing you are killing yourself in so many ways (or realize, and do it anyhow) I judge, in my head. I still think you’re a good person – just one who’s either ignorant, or hates him/herself.
8. I own a lot of books I haven’t read. And I feel really guilty about that.
9. I really don’t like beans. Oh I want to like beans, I really, truly do. But something about the texture contrast between pasty innard and slightly shell-y exterior just sets me on edge, like nails on a chalkboard, in my mouth. I like refried beans well enough, because that particular texture sensation is eliminated. But I have a very tough time enjoying any other bean preparation, and that includes in things like Chilli.
10. The grossest for last. Another foodie confession: one of the darlings of molecular gastronomy is “foams” – I can’t stomach them. They have the exact look and texture of stomach bile, after a night of too much drinking, and you’re dry-heaving for the 17th time, and you burble up some stomach acid and a bit of the water you tried to choke down. Go ahead, try enjoying your foam after reading that. I dare you.