One more…Matte finish paint on cars makes my skin crawl. I imagine scratching my fingernail on it accidentally. :shudder:
Ketchup. I don’t like it. If you want to eat it, I can live with that. My son gets it everywhere and I have to clean it up. If it gets on me, I have to physically restrain myself from hopping and down, and shrieking “Get it off! Get it off!”
The hairdo styles most old ladies have.
Nose studs. Nobody looks good with one and it’s just a steel booger if you ask me.
Old ladies with nose studs.
I thought I was the only one!
Krupe’s 8th Law states: No one is the only one.
(Whether that’s good or bad is beyond the scope of the current incarnation of the law. Perhaps a corollary can be found.) 
This. Yes. I know exactly what you mean. I live in horror of accidentally touching a car with a matte finish.
So, I Googled “car with a matte finish” and I still don’t get it. Maybe the images do not do it justice, but you’re talking about a car that isn’t “glossy”? Is that a thing?
(I had a crazy neighbor with a mostly primer and bondo car who painted his vehicle with a paintbrush. That was unique!
ETA: thanks to this thread I’m now living in mild horror of experiencing a warm toilet seat.
Me too! Even (especially?) at sports events. The Mariners fans have started the “K, K, K!” chant when Felix Hernandez gets two strikes on a batter (less frequent later in the year). I just want to scream, “Shut up and let him pitch.” I also object to “Defense, Defense” at football and basketball games. I’m pretty sure the team is already working on that.
Nigella Lawson
Theres just something wrong about her, but i cant work out what
Not just you. This is actually one of my anxiety trigger points. No rallies or marches for me, thanks. All those people being unified and passionate gives me the walking heeblies.
One that I know is common, but divisive: Don’t read my name off my name tag and use it in conversation. Just. No. It’s MINE. I get to decide whether someone can use it or not. If my work forces me to wear it I will, but I try to flip it backwards or obscure it with stickers and pins til it’s illegible - and creepy creepers still lean in to figure it out and try to use it. Uuuuuuuuughhhhhh. So creepy and gross.
Overly made-up and manicured and ‘slick’ tv personalities - especially the botoxed ones who can’t quite emote properly anymore are another. They look like creepy semi-animated dolls or computer animation (which is odd, because I don’t mind dolls or computer-animated people).
Round buildings. My Google fu failed me just now, but there’s this cylindrical Sheraton hotel in one of the New Jersey nether regions near to the NYC border, standing alone next to the highway. Every time I passed it (when I lived in said state) it would fill me with a feeling of vague dread and apprehension that I could compare to no earthly sensation. It just seemed too wrong, somehow.
At first I pictured cars with do it yourself spray can paint jobs and they do look like something one would not like to touch. Then I remembered I had a car where portions of the gloss had worn away and it is indeed a gross feeling when you’re scrubbing along and suddenly the sponge gets caught up on the sand papery surface.
I tried to find a sufficiently oogie picture of the dreaded fiddlehead fern and was shocked and disgusted to see that the majority of the photos seemed to show them in a cooking context :eek: You mean to tell me people eat these furled fronds of foulness?
When I worked at McDonalds, I would trade my nametag with other co-workers. Somehow it was better if they creeped on someone else’s name. Especially if you traded tags with someone of the opposite gender. Creep: “So…what time you get off work…errr, Steve?”
Mannequins.
Stop looking so vacant and aloof, you frozen bitches.
This post is kind of creeping me out :dubious: 
For some reason, this makes me feel better. I am not alone.
What is it about them, I wonder? This horror is affectionately known as “the beer can”. It’s right in the middle of downtown and you can’t not see it. A little further up the interstate is this beauty. I’d rather live in the shadow of the Tower of London and all its attendant ghosts than have that thing in my sight every day.
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That strange obsession with maintaining eye contact during a conversation. Seems to be more common among Americans than other nations. They even seem offended if you don’t look them in the eye when you talk to them.
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Shaking hands.
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Firm handshakes. Like it’s not a real handshake if you’re not hearing the sweet sound of cracking bones.
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Flip flops and sandals without socks. I don’t want to see other peoples’ ugly toes. I think it’s indecent, almost obscene, to display your toes in public. Especially if you’re a diabetic, overweight, paint your toenails, or suffer from some other deformity.
You cylindrical building haters will be happy to know that this onewas torn down a few years ago. Not only was it round, it seemed to float.
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Bleached teeth, like those of Donald Trump. They look unhealthy and unnatural.
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When people append my name at the end of every other sentence. Do they think this will cause me to feel close to them?
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Neat, clean homes, where everything is perfectly arranged. In my experience, the neatness of the home is inversely proportional to the number of books present within it. No, cooking recipe books don’t count as books.