I don’t have the “dreams for the future” gene. When I was a little boy, I wanted to be TV star Red Skelton. Then a teacher told me I was never going to be a comedian. From that day on, I never had an answer when somebody asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I can’t snap the fingers on my right! But hoo, can I snap that left.
I lack the Perpetuation of the Species Gene.
I mean, hey, I like to practice, just in case the world should need repopulating and there is no one left but me and that beer chick in another thread, but I just cannot fathom making another person willingly to carry on the genetic code and such.
I was coming here to post that exact same thing.
I’m right-handed (mostly) but I cannot snap the fingers on my right hand. Watch out with the left hand though.
I lack the Flirting Gene. Can’t do it. Can’t tell when other people do it.
Oh boy.
My mom says I have an X-chromosome with a short leg, because I’m so unladylike.
I don’t do ‘mom’ or babies (but I’m not a bad babysitter)
I don’t do socializing (I can, if we share interests, but talking about non-geeky stuff? No idea)
I don’t do fashion, or clothes shopping, or makeup, or -god forbid- shoes. I wear the same pair of shoes for weeks or months.
I also can’t motivate myself. This is the one thing I wish I could most change about myself. But I can’t. I’ve tried. Where’s a bleeping genie when you need one?
I lack the “salesman” gene. My Dad, he’s the sell ice to Eskimos type. Me, I can’t sell bottled water in the desert.
Form-filling gene. I cannot fill out a form to save my life.
I lack the Pissed Off gene. I dated a verbally abusive girl in my college days. She would yell at me over the most trivial things and I’d usually respond by saying, “Gee whiz, you seem upset.” Then I’d laugh at my own bewildered dorkiness, and she would get more pissed off.
I lack the “Pets Are Just Little People” gene. My friend told me his cats were peeing on his furniture and he was wondering what he had done to make them angry. I wanted to say, “Cats pee on furniture because furniture is where cats pee, they’re only ‘angry’ at you if you are currently standing on their tail.”
Myself, I seem to lack the Sports Fan gene. I’m not unfond of occasionally playing sports; I just can’t watch them or engage in any sort of meaningful conversation about them. Dunno why. I mean, all my friends, most of my family, my girlfriend, fer cryin’ out loud, they’re plenty into their various sports, but me? Couldn’t even get myself worked up over the World Cup. Just never could understand what was so fascinating about sports.
I lack the [del]gullibility[/del] “trust unknown sources” or “readily believe” gene. My wife will watch something on TV and get all worried about whatever danger of the week are pushing on the news programs.
Also lacking is a Recreational Outrage gene, especially for politics. I’m liberal, and don’t like Bush but just can’t get worked up into a rage.
I think my sports gene has combined with my smartass gene. I nearly got smacked in class last Friday when I mentioned that people in this town take football way too seriously, especially when the university baseball team is light years better. Saturday was the long-awaited game with Our Bitter Rival. I supported Italy in the last game of the last World Cup–in a pub full of France supporters. (Let me tell you, that was FUN after the head-butting incident! I got to use my Smile of Smug Superiority without fear.) I’m not even going to mention what happened when I was in Greece in '96 and expressed a wish that Germany not be ground into the field.
I think I need to stay out of Europe during World Cup years. One of these days it’s going to get me killed.