Not always. There’s Gagundathar version’s and mine: I don’t want to splat, but I do miss the high planks at pools, pretty much all of which have been removed for safety reasons. It was just 10m, but that free fall and then a splooosh! into cool water was neat. I don’t get the urge to kill myself jumping from a bridge, but I do get an urge to jump into bodies of water from a height. And leaving the fucking car in the middle of, say, Seville’s Quinto Centenario, blocking everybody would be a huge finger to traffic
Watching someone whose dog is loose and who doesn’t pick up the dog’s shit has in recent times started to produce an urge to call the person a pig and give them a Crazy Old Woman Rant about people who leave their shit all around the place (if it’s the dog’s shit and it’s your dog, it’s your shit). I think I’ll wait a few more years before I start acting on it, though…
I don’t talk at my TV when watching a movie, but if it’s set in the past - the middle ages, the American old west, a peasant village in the countryside - and there’s a wedding scene - I want to tell the happy bride “you shouldn’t have gotten married, you’ll get pregnant and die in childbirth!”
When I see someone with well-developed deltoid muscles, I have the urge to bite them. Just sink my teeth right into their shoulder, like it’s prime rib.
Sometimes when someone is walking in front of my car, I have the urge to “slip” off the brake and run over the person. I would never do this of course, but I think about it constantly.
Most of the above. Thank goodness I have pretty good impulse control. Except for the craft thing. If I qualify as a hoarder of any sort, it’s that I’ve convinced myself over the years that the Muse is demanding a slightly different medium. Some women need new shoes every season that they wear once, if ever. Me, I have dusty packets of colorful or shiny things with pricetags from Dick Blick or Hobby Lobby. I don’t actually make anything at the moment, mind you. There’s laundry to do, you see, and the water bill is due, and… Oooh but it would be awesome to grow mushrooms this year, look at this coupon I just got!
Also–not sexual (I swear!)–I find myself staring at other people’s pants flies. To see if they are undone…? This only started happening a few years after being married and having small children. If I catch myself doing it, I continue on my glance to inspect my fingernails, but I’m sure I still look like a creep.
ETA: I have the unrestrained urge to scream weird things and make nasty faces whenever I see or hear Kathy Griffith. If this is sexual, it is in entirely the wrong way. It is a very irrational hatred and I should probably bring it up should I ever have the luxury of analysis.
Maybe it will help quell your urge to know that you can’t actually do that, as it doesn’t work like it does in the movies. This was discussed in another recent thread - cops have something called retention holsters that require certain actions in order to release the firearm before it can be removed from the holster.
I often want to squish things. Not in a steamroller way, more in a stressball way. Mainly animals.
Edit: Also, whenever I’m writing up documents at work I get the urge to make them “funny”. Luckily I have yet to do so, as I don’t think my sense of humour would be appreciated (if it was noticed).
What you need is a good game of Katamari Damacy. It’s a game for the PS2, and the object of the game is to roll a ball around, over various objects, animals, and people, and have them stick to that ball. Complete with sound effects. I never really got into it, myself, but it was very, very popular. My daughter loved it.
What you need is a good game of Katamari Damacy. It’s a game for the PS2, and the object of the game is to roll a ball around, over various objects, animals, and people, and have them stick to that ball. Complete with sound effects. I never really got into it, myself, but it was very, very popular. My daughter loved it.
As for your second item, go and read Iggy Pop’s rider. Yes, all 18 pages of it.
There’s a freeway overpass I use on my way to work, and sometimes I just want to gun the engine and fly off into the sky like the nazis from The Blues Brothers.
I often want to scream at people doing jerkish things: parking badly, littering, or merging at 25% under the speed of traffic.
If this is the same Foothills Parkway, I have the almost irresistible urge to turn the handlebars to the mountains and not return. Leave the keys on the desk, a note on the door, and a picture of my ass to be kissed.
It’s a good thing I head away from the Diagonal or I would be gone already.
I have a recurring fantasy of being able to snap my fingers and cause the windshield of cars with car-alarms or even the ones that just honk when you lock them to smash.
It’s a good thing that I don’t really have this power.
When someone is driving like a maniac, passing with inches between bumpers and speeding and just generally causing near-accidents, who I then see pulled over, I have thus far been able to resist the urge to stop my car behind the cop, walk up to the maniac’s window and give them a Nelson Muntz-style “HA ha!!”, then walk calmly away.
