Fizgig, you already used it, but since i was thinking it already, i’ll say it.
I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. However, I canwhistle it precisely.
Also, I have absolutely no concept of the measured passage of time, with the sole exception that I know exactly how long lunch hour is.
I have a time-related can’t do too.
I cannot remember when certain kinds of event occurred.
So, I can remember the years when major events occurred, but lesser events escape me totally. I could be asked " Do you know which year such and such a tune was in the charts?" If I can possibly relate it to another event then I have a chance, but otherwise it’s a wild guess. 1983? 1990? Dunno.
I guessed at a famous murder being 1996 in a pub quiz and got funny looks. It happened in 2001 :rolleyes:
As for pinning down when in a year something occurred, I have no idea and I simply guess, even for stuff which happened last year. I always have good recollection of the events themelves, and sometimes can take clues from these images (hairstyles, fashions, or seasons if it happened more recently).
I don’t think it’s simply that I’m dumb…or maybe it is;)
But then I have an immense memory for chemical reactions and other chemistry stuff. I knew I shouldn’t have read Oliver Sacks. Now I think I have a brain tumour.
Other stuff
[ul]
[li]I cannot lie in bed in the mornings like normal people, unless drink was involved the night before. I get bored and too hot.[/li][li]I cannot (legally) drive. Just never got round to it (I’m 31!).[/li][li]I can’t watch TV in a messy room. It drives me nuts.[/li][li]I cannot bring myself to run for a bus. The embarrassment would be too much if I missed it.[/li][li]I can’t whistle properly.[/li][/ul]
But I can clap one-handed. Ha.
I don’t rollerskate or blade, cannot dive or do somersault in the pool without half-drowning.
I do not tie my shoes well, and consistently fuck up hambuger helper, reducing it to a bigger ghastly inedible mess that it already is.
But i do make good lasagna.
Spazzes of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose!
I can’t…
[ul]
[li]Ride a bike. I love walking, so that evens out.[/li][li]Swim. I’ve always had severe ear problems (apparently, my eustacian tubes are both dead-end streets) brought on by even mild wetness in the ear. (Normally, the middle ear’s fluids drain out the eustacian tubes into the sinuses. Popping' one's ears usually means opening these tubes to equalize pressure inside and outside the ear. I don't have that, so the fluid that builds up when my ears get wet just *keeps building up.* It goes from annoying to mildly painful to extremely painful to severely painful to sickeningly painful to nauseatingly painful to being so painful I cry in joy when my eardrum ruptures and fluid gushes out. (The rupturing coming after I've harbored fantasies of finding a knitting needle and just easing that baby up there to make a tiny little prick ... ) To me, there are few things in life more satisfying than popping a bubble or releasing pressure in another way.)[/li][li]Snap my fingers. I can pop my knuckles pretty loudly, sometimes, but that's just not the same, somehow.[/li][li]Dribble a ball. Of any kind.[/li][li]Catch anything but a cold.[/li][li]Throw with any kind of accuracy.[/li][li]Roll my tongue. Trilling r’s is no problem, though.[/li][li]Pronounce the Scottish `ch’ correctly. I end up with a mildly gravelly aspiration. I have an Austrian relative, however, who hits his consonants harder than a stock car hits a wall. When I was with him, I constantly expected him to down small pebbles, or maybe to crush small nuts in his larynx. Seriously, I thought the phlegm was racing the bits of rended flesh up his throat every time he spoke.[/li][li]Tolerate narcotics. Here’s where I make myself ill … I cannot stand the very thought of any painkiller stronger than Advil. It makes my skin crawl and my mind retch to images of nerves turned to white goo.[/li][/ul]I’ll stop for now.
Well, I can trill my R’s and roll my tongue (note to Flamestrette…we need to chat about Outlander…I’ve gotten my SILs and my boss hooked on that series) but I can’t whistle. I can pucker up my lips and blow, but that’s about it.
I also have a horrible sense of direction. Ivylad likes to say he can take me to the mall, spin me around twice, and I won’t know which direction we were going. I’ll go into a store, browse around, and come back out, completely confused about which direction we were heading. I also need directions written out…I can’t follow them if they’re drawn.
But, Giraffe, I thought your tongue was 18 inches long and prehensile? 
Well, it involves putting your fist around the neck of the bottle so the cap semi-sticks up out of the hole between your thumb and curved forefinger. You take the lighter in your other fist so just the bottom half of it or so extends from the same space as the bottle is in your other hand. Hold the bottle at approximately solar plexus level and using a smooth underhanded motion, like that of a samurai sticking a blade in his abdomen, stick the lighter in the gap between the cap and the underside of your index finger’s bottom phalanx and with a determined wedge and grunt of satisfaction pop the damned thing off the bottle like the worthless piece of twisted aluminum it is. Grin toothily, toss the lighter back to its owner with a nonhcalant flip of the wrist, and swill heartily from the just-opened bottle. You are now officially cool. Incidentally, that would be be me sitting over there in the corner, staring at you with murderous envy, fingers bruised and lighter broken.
Add me to the list of those who can’t whistle or snap his fingers.
My life feels so incomplete without these abilities.
katrina There is p-i-e on the c-o-u-n-t-e-r 
I wish I could juggle and play the piano and guitar.
Cannot process numbers in my head. On paper it isn’t much better. Math and me are ships sinking in the night and that is just fine.
I cannot resist a bowl of nachos or ice cream.
I cannot juggle live cats.
I can’t follow orally given directional instructions. But…
I can’t get lost. I can always find my way back. Even in a dense forrest or off trail back packing in the moutains. I don’t have any explanation for this, no “tricks of the trade”… I just don’t get lost. Usually. Except when trying to follow someone else’s directions. Even then, I get myself back to the starting point and try again. And no, I can’t give directions either. Just follow me… (Yeah, sounds like Glory Road, but 'tis true)
I can’t remember important dates, like birthday, anniversary… I can remember the phone number of a friend from 20 yrs ago, but not my sister’s birthday.
I can’t swim. I can’t type properly. I can’t build things (I have crap finger/brain coordination). I can’t dance.
I can’t cook. I can’t keep plants alive. I can’t, as it recently turns out, keep goldfish alive.
I can’t keep a place tidy no matter how much I try. I can’t fold clothes properly. I can’t tie a knot in a thread so it won’t get pulled off the needle. Oh yeah, I can’t sew.
I can’t colour coordinate, in either artistic ways, or clothing ways.
I’m sure there’s more.
Wiggle my ears.
Whistle doin’ that thing with two fingers in your mouth.
Break the SDMB habit.
OpalCat says:
“I think that’s about it, I can do everything else.” :eek:
I’m not even going anywhere NEAR that line!
I cannot swim. I have lived in Florida over half of my life, but it’s simply a fact. Love the water, but don’t be asking me to save your butt if you’re drowning, cause we’re both going to drown. I’m an edge-eel in the swimming pool, bloody toes and all. Fortunately all of my children swim like they were born to it.
And like XJETGIRLX, I can’t reach anything above the first shelf either.
However, I do have many other talents, but too numerous to list here.
Oh, and I’m bad at that math thing, too.
I can’t stick my tongue out. Honest.
Neither can my mom. We used to torment her when we were younger by saying stuff that would normally make a person stick out their tongue, and then mock her when she couldn’t…it was slightly amusing.
Cheap thrills…
I’m in the minority in the Doors house. I can stick out my tongue; Airman and Aaron can’t.
Robin
I can’t play any game that involves any system N64 or better. The 3D sort of thing just completely screws me up (well, I can KINDA play that Mario Racer game for N64, but that’s it). With Goldeneye, my strategy had to be hide as well as I could and then pick people off–see, my aim was excellent, but my ability to navigate and walk was, to say the least, piss-poor. James Bond walked like he had too many martinis.
This extends to certain puzzles that involve spatial relations, and–sometimes–judging distance while driving (fortunately, I’ve learned to adapt to that; I leave too much space consistently).
I can’t rollerskate, either. Or rollerblade. Or ice skate. My dad thought my ex boyfriend was beating me because, one time, when I got back from a vacation with him, I was covered in bruises. He had tried to teach me how to ice skate. I kept on falling. He got pretty banged up, too, 'cause he’d been having me hang on to him.
One more thing I can’t do:
-Get a date. I SUCK at talking to women. I never know when they’re flirting with me. Someone will point it out later. I just think the girl’s being nice.
I can not:
Roll my R’s.
I would therefore make a bad:
Swedish speaking person.
Lowtax, I love you.
At the same time?
At the same time?
Amazing how much mileage a simple phrase can get.