I’m usually pretty well adjusted. Not many odd things unsettle me. I can watch eye surgery on the health channel without getting the willies. However, the Wawa coffee commercial where the beds are driving around in traffic with their sleeping occupants gives me the worst case of ebies.
First, the brass beds are ugly. Second, it’s just the thought of being out in public in a bed; too vulnerable. Third, it’s a bed in traffic. Fourth, a bed is rolling down the road and I can’t jump out cuz I’m not wearing shoes. Fifth, we’re the damn bathroom? First thing I do when I get out of bad is use the can not pour a damn coffee! Sixth, my bed (and bedroom) is my sanctuary - I don’t want the damn thing rolling down the street with me in it. Seventh, ummm… seatbelts, airbags, a fucking roof please!
Face paint. The county-fair variety. It gives me the willies, especially on children. It has since childhood. I don’t know why. The more face that is covered, the willier it gets.
Mullets (the haircut, not the fish). Especially on really young girls.
Plumber’s crack. Get some pants that fit, or get suspenders so they don’t fall down, just don’t show your buttcrack to the whole world. Remember, kids, don’t do crack!
Stepping on squishy things. :eek:
Barbara, who’s in the cubicle right next to my office, singing along with the Bee Gees. “More than a Woman.” Not really the best way to start off a Monday morning.
Optical illusions totally skeeve me. I never could stand it when they “clicked” and you saw what was wrong, or they started swirling, or whatever. Then one day about 10 years ago, I was happy-assing around, looking at a “fun with science” book at B&N. It was geared towards kids, and it was full of experiments, fun pictures, etc. I was thinking it was pretty cool, until I got to the picture of Elvis. He was upside down, and you were supposed to try and firgure out what wrong with his face, then turn it over. Well, I glanced at it for a second, and it looked OK to me, so I flipped it over… and his eyes were upside down. To this day I can’t tell you why I flipped out about that, but oh, how I did. I screamed (in the bookstore!!), dropped the book, and couldn’t even pick it up again. I got my brother to pick it up for me. That turned my dislike for optical illusions into a full blown phobia. Seriously, I get short of breath and have to close my eyes whenever I see one.
Somewhere on my computer at home I have an ad for a gay film festival in Australia that features a singing penis. It is completely hilarious and deeply disturbing at the same time.
Clowns, but everybody hates those. The really odd one that freaks me out is… you know those plastic singing fishes on plaques people put on their walls? Can’t stand them, they bug me right up the wall. shiver
That commercial for Arby’s (?) with the little baby having an adult conversation with a guy. His mouth is superimposed (a’la Clutch Cargo) so it looks like he’s speaking ‘adult’. I have the worst fear that I’ll dream about it some time. Lots of little babies speaking ‘adult’. And I’ll have to take my own life if that happens.
I hate those painted faces too! I already dislike clowns, but I would never willingly get my face painted, or hang out with people who did. I can’t stand bands who paint their faces, or even wrestlers–but that everyday, trashy, carnival face painting (made worse by horrible evil face-painted clowns like the ones in House of 1,000 Corpses) is just disturbing. Even Queen Amidala in the Star Wars movies in her full white kabuki-style makeup–Natalie Portman is very cute, but done up like that: so not hot!
Talking babies are stupid. Not funny, never funny, not an impressive use of CGI, annoying, hackneyed, occasionally unsettling, just STUPID.
The sound of two pieces of styrofoam rubbing against each other completely skeeves me out. I don’t even like to think about that sound. It’s like…well, it’s like nails on a chalkboard which is nearly as bad.
Getting stuck in traffic when I’m under an overpass. For some reason, my mind wanders to "what if the bridge collapsed. I’m in this car and I can’t move more than an inch in either direction and I’ll DIEEEEEEEEEEE.
Yesterday I was walking by my computer and decided to take a glance of myself in the mirror above the printer. The mirror had been removed. Expecting to see yourself, and seeing a big blank space instead can be really disturbing if you’re not expecting it. I spent the rest of the day avoiding that small space on the wall.
Silverware. Many things about silverware creep me out, really.
Like, when I’m eating and my teeth gently scrape the metal - yuck! Makes my brain vibrate.
When I’m eating ice cream (especially apparent in sorbet) the metal spoon seems to penetrate the flavor to where it tastes like I’m eating small change.
The sound of silverware scraping a plate sends chills up my spine!
Driving over railroad tracks. It’s like I can feel the tragedy and death associated with getting caught on one of those things. Similar feeling to driving over birdges, just creeps me out thinking about if I had a temporary brain laspe and I drove off the side. It scared me so much that when I was younger I didn’t want to learn to drive because I was afraid I’d do that.
This is kindof TMI, but getting er . . . um . . . intimate in the dark with no blankets to cover me, especially when I’m on top. A bug fell on my back once and ever since then the thought really grosses me out.
Those little wooden ice cream paddles. They freak me out so much that I cannot stand to see someone else using them. I will gladly stop what I’m doing and get them a real spoon.
I’ve mentioned this on the boards before, but talking toys freak me out. There’s just something fundamentally wrong with an inanimate object talking like it’s a living thing. Makes me wonder what else it can do that it shouldn’t be able to…shudder
I’m freaked out by any discussion of bowel movements or using the bathroom. And to make matters worse, friends who know about this hang up go out of their way to describe their bowel movements to me. If they’re telling me a story in which they go #2 at some point, even if using the facilities isn’t crucial to the story, they will still throw it in in all it’s gruesome detail. It’s not that they enjoy grossing me out… they just feel they need to cure me of this hangup, and they figure repitition is the best medicine.
I can’t believe I’m even typing this. I even freak out myself!
You know when you’re using a plain wooden pencil (not mechanical), and you go to erase something, but the eraser is all worn down? The metal ‘holder’ scrapes against the paper and makes this godawful noise. I cannot stand that.
Also, I’ve got this bizarre foot…thing. I seriously can’t even think about walking into a bathroom in stocking feet without shuddering: I need shoes on. I also hate going into water (like a pool or the ocean) without sandals or water-shoes on. All other times, I love to be barefoot.