I am shockingly bad at anything beyond basic math. My geography also stinks.
Except for meats, I cannot eat anything cold that’s intended to be served hot because the very idea grosses me out. The reverse is not always true, however.
I am not a sports fan. Of any sport.
I like to compose music and sing the songs that I write lyrics for, despite the fact that my singing voice is slightly worse than Bernard Sumner. I can also read sheet music, but compose entirely by ear. On computer; I cannot play any musical instruments.
I dropped out of school halfway through the 10th grade.
I don’t play any musical instrument, have no singing voice to speak of yet have written, or co-written several songs. Decent ones too.
I have a deathly fear of things larger than they should normally be. I still have nightmares about those amazonian crickets from the dissection lab in ZOO-222 in college.
I have completely planned my life after I win the Lottery. High on the list is toi travel to various DopeFests around the country. You all are so cool, I wanna meet everyone!
I sweat All THE TIME. Not excessively, and I don’t stink, but any exercise at all makes me perspire. I’m told this is better than the alternative and means I hydrate well, so it’s all good.
I keep my stand-by fantasy life close by. In this life, I have retired from a long, Hall of Fame quality NHL career, and now play guitar in a country/rock/folk band that consists of me and four other people, two of who are beautiful blonde twin sisters much younger than I, one that plays drums and the other being the singer and to whom I’m married. We play county fairs and small bars, and Willie Nelson has covered several of our songs. This summer we’re opening several shows for Cheryl Crow. Come see us, ok?
That’s what I’m thinking too, but then I think, who’s really paying attention? So:
I have no sense of smell.
I used to be able to recite long stretches of the book Gone With The Wind, and the movie Grease.
At one (very brief) point in my life, I had 27 cats.
I was in a beauty pageant when I was 11. For my talent, I recited a poem I had written at the age of 9, called “The Rich Man’s Death”. It was totally deep.
[ol]
[li]I used to sing, and sing well. I made all-state in high school. These days, though, I only sing when I’m by myself, for the most part – no organized singing at all.[/li][li]I used to backpack a lot. My ex got all the camping gear except for my pack and boots when we divorced, and I’ve never gotten back into it.[/li][li]I have a bachelor’s degree in history, a master’s in library science, but I work with computers at a big corporation.[/li][li]I’m a booze snob. It doesn’t bother me at all when people with me drink cheap stuff – in fact, I kinda wish I liked the cheap stuff sometimes. But it doesn’t matter what type of alcohol it is – beer, wine, whiskey, what have you – I only go for the good stuff.[/li][li]I like to see new places, but I don’t like the act of travelling itself.[/li][/ol]
Really? Maybe this is for another thread (“Ask the anosmic”) but how did this happen to you? How does it affect your enjoyment of food? Can you enjoy food or do you just shovel in whatever you have?
I get the trots as soon as I hit foreign airspace except when going to the USA
I have a Greek Godlike body
I’m extremely handsome
I am very rich
I have a cat called Eccles
Damn it! I had a post all worked up, but it took me so long i got logged out (on a work computer, so I don’t stay logged in with a cookie.) I copy and pasted my response, but then flubbed that up when I had to google trichotillomania, and did it by copy and pasting. :smack:
Ok, a quick summary of my five things:
I have worn make up many times, more often than several of my female friends. (I’m male, in case you couldn’t guess.)
I have several sexual fantasies that, if acted upon, would make me quite the sexual deviant. As it stands, I have had a very bland sex life thus far, and if given the choice, would prefer tyo act on some, but not all, of those fantasies.
I think being a profesional writer would be the coolest job ever, yet I have a degree in engineering, have never written much besides one measly play in high school and a few articles for a school magazine, and am fairly certain that if I attetmpted to actually write something, it would suck so much as to make a black hole.
As I get older, I notice more and more that I stutter occaisionaly, and seem to have a few symptoms of adult ADD and dyslexia, though I will never bother to see a doctor about it and likewise, never claim to actually have them.
I have cut and burned myself before (but not anymore), and once punched a door hard enough that to this day, one of the knuckles on that hand is a little bigger than the corresponding knuckle on the other hand, and if i push on it right, it hurts and feels like there might be a small piece of bone moving around. That was in 2003. (The punchikng, that is, the cutting and burning go back to late 2000.)
1: I was mentioned by name in one of Herb Caen’s columns.
2: I have a surgical scar shaped roughly like Africa on my belly.
3: I think the Hoky Poky really is what it’s all about and we’re all screwed.
4: My coffee mug at work is made of wood.
5: I’ve never seen the spark plugs in my Jeep’s engine.
#5 is a red herring, actually. This engine has no distributor or ignition wires in the tradiitonal sense, and the plugs are covered by individual coil packs. I know where they are, but won’t need to change the plugs for another 36,000 miles or so and I’m not going to mess with them until then.
My friends and I once stole an entire parking meter, just for fun. We then hid it in some woods, and never found it again.
Quite often, I only eat 1 meal a day. Usually 2.
On crowded commuter trains, I’m usually the only guy who offers his seat to an elderly person, or a pregnant woman, or a parent with children.
I am always devastated upon hearing of the death or injury of any child, even one that I don’t know. Adult deaths, even those of close relatives, don’t bother me much unless children are affected. Children are always innocent. Adults rarely.
Just recently, I’ve become more attracted to larger hourglass-figured women than the swimsuit model types that I’ve preferred my entire life. I’m 36, is this normal?
(1) I couldn’t care less about professional sports, but if there is tennis on TV I physically cannot tear myself away until it’s finished. I don’t follow it, I can’t name any more than two or three players on the circuit at any time, I don’t care who wins, I don’t read about it in the paper, ever, but if I see it’s on TV - the rest of the day is a write-off.
(2) I played rugby through my late teens and early twenties. I only quit because I hated the position that I played.
(3) I (mostly) hate hip-hop music, but love hip-hop MCs freestyling with any other type of music.
(4) I can make a 3-leaf clover with my tongue.
(5) If I had it all to do over again, I would be a public transit engineer (instead of a social policy analyst).
I too, am shy. About as bashful with women as a Cathar monk in a biker bar.
I am currently homeless–I’m only squatting at a friend’s house until I leave Montana.
I usually keep a loaded assault rifle in the house, “just in case”. But it’s locked up and you’ll never see it, even if you ask.
I am a “Jr.”, son of a man with two birthdays.
I actually kind of like Afghanistan.
I have never touched any drugs beyond caffiene and alcohol. No pot, no coke, no Ex, not even gotten recreationally high on a bottle of NyQuil. People rarely believe me when I tell them this.
I am known as an “International Man of Danger”–mostly to myself.