If you handed me a hammer, I’d ask where the electrical cord was.
If my car has an electrical problem, I just start at the wires until it gets dark. I swear the amount of wires increases as I watch them.
I’m the anti-idiot-savant. I live day to day without any problems, then, the fridge stops fridging. I investgate, and I feel a dampness on my collar. Oh boy…it’s my brains leaking out of my ears.
Bob Vila is a mysterious god to me. I think, " he still has all his fingers…he’s good"
I…umm…uh…I can’t swim. There, I said it. I would like to learn how…me thinks it would come in handy should the canoe tip over. Actually, I have taken lessons (yes, “lessons”. Plural) But I never could do it. The instructors said I had good technique and form and stuff; but they couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t stay on top of the water. There were little kids swimming circles around me. Its embarrassing when friends go canoeing or boating or skiing or swimming and I’m afraid to go because I can’t swim.
I can’t whistle at all, not with my fingers, not with a blade of grass, and certainly not with my lips. I can’t bake a pie to save my life, other than that I’m a good cook, I can bake anything under the sun EXCEPT pies. I can cook all sorts of yummy main courses, but if you ask me to make a pie I’m hopeless.
keep my cool arguing politics with Libertarians. Sorry guys, I guess it’s like the Christians when they meet an atheist. “What do you mean you don’t see it like that?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”
make loud, piercing whistles either with my lips and tongue or lips and fingers. Wish to God I could.
dance, either. I figure I must look like Al Gore or something when I boogie down. 'Course, I’ve wanted to take swing dancing for a while now, so maybe that’ll change.
I can’t do math. Oh, I can do the simple stuff, I worked in Accounts Payable for a year, so I can do that kind of math. But moving up the levels to geometry, calculus, etc. and I’m clueless.
The worst, though, is word problems. I can’t read a paragraph and turn it into an equation. I just can’t do it. I choked on the word problem portion of an IQ test once, I was on Problem 2 (of 10) when time was called. I just filled in random answers before going to the next section.
I also can’t whistle with my lips. I can through my teeth, though.
I can’t snap my fingers. (“But all you do is…” “NO! I can’t!” “But if you’d just look…” “NO!!! I have been trying for over TWENTY-FIVE YEARS, I can’t DO it, now just LAY OFF already!!”)
A lot of the time I can’t rock (in a rocking chair, or what have you) to the beat of the music. Now, don’t get me wrong; I have an extremely good sense of meter. That’s the problem. I used to ALWAYS walk/rock/sway to the beat of whatever music was playing, but people made fun of me for it, and I trained myself out of it so well that now I almost CAN’T unless I concentrate. Which is why…
I can’t dance unless I’ve been drinking.
I can’t make that loud fingers-in-the-mouth whistle (though I’d love to be able to).
I can’t get over my social phobias.
I can’t finish this post on the grounds that it will get too embarassing.
(At least I don’t feel so lame anymore for not being able to whistle with my fingers.)
I can’t pop chewing gum.
I can’t eat peas or beans because the shells will make me gag and I’ll puke.
I can’t seem to get Windows to work smoothly and flawlessly without having to reboot everyday.
(What? You mean it’s not just me?)
I can’t lay in a hammock without one foot on the ground. This is no doubt related to me being prone to getting seasick, and not being able to read in a car that I’m a passenger in without getting queasy.
I can’t let my wife drive the car when I’m in it
When we go on a trip or even if we just go to the store, I cannot, for the life of me, let her drive the car. Don’t get me wrong, she is a great driver. She has never got a ticket in the 20 years that she’s been driving, but for some unknown reason, I can’t let her drive me around. I have tried, but it makes me crazy! Once, I was really tired driving on a long trip, and I let her drive. She drove the car for about 15 minutes and I insisted that she pull over so I could go back to driving. Obviously, this has been a big problem for me.
Sober, drunk, possessed by the ghost of Isadora Duncan, I just can’t dance.
I lose my sense of direction when I’m inside a vehicle. On foot, on a bicycle, even inside buildings, I can usually maintain my orientation easily. Put me in a car, and I have to switch to lemming mode–“I go straight ahead until someone makes me turn or we drive off into the ocean.”
Hamadarling, you need some flashfingers powder(I forget what my supplier calls it, exactly). You put a small amount of one powder on your thumbtip, and a tiny amount of the other on your middle finger, then press them together for a second. Then when you make the finger-snapping motion, even if your fingers don’t snap, you get a bang like a firecracker, a flash of fire, and some smoke. That way, next time someone badgers you about it, you can agree to give it one more try. Then you laugh at him when the bang makes him jump out of his skin.
I can’t drive a car. Anytime I get behind the wheel of a car, I get so frightened that I can barely move. And people ask me why my 16 year old brother drives me around…
Don’t know whether that was intentional or not…oh well.