The sound of filing, especially metal filing. I can’t use or be around someone using a metal nail file. Also the sound of two coins rubbing together, especially if they have rough edges, like quarters. Brrrr!
Excessive makeup and halloween costumes, especially with those colored contact lenses that make the eyes look reptilian.
I had one roommate who was a biology student. I spent many an hour paging through her textbooks helping her look up citations, and unfortunately coming across the horrifying photos.
Then, later on, I had another roommate whom I mentioned to that I thought sloths were freaky, and she professed that she loved sloths and thought they were totally adorable. She would harass me by surprising me with sloth photos when I least expected them–Slothrolling me, if you will.
BARF!
Chalk.
I cannot describe to you how much that stuff freaks me out. I can barely walk when I start to think about it–I actually feel this overwhelming tingling and I feel too weak to move. Touching it, scratching my nails on it, twisting a big piece of sidewalk chalk between my teeth…
Now I’m going to be compulsively thinking about it for days.
This intense feeling extends to things that only feel a little chalky: cotton balls, felt, fleece, dry skin, the list is endless.
I love this thread. Apart from the poop and stuff, there is not a thing here that bothers me. strikes WonderWoman pose
My two older children hate the metal handle on one of our paring knives, and a broiler pan for the toaster oven. Both these items have gotten kind of dull from years of being subjected to the dishwasher, and have some sort of odd texture. I’ve noticed it of course but I had no idea it could be squicky until they both freaked out one day when we were unloading the dishwasher.
I’ll have to see if it’s possible to terrorize them with sloths, too. 
<whimper> That is precisely the kind of structure that would send me into a panic attack if I were looking at it in person, so thanks for sharing *that *:eek:
Not real crazy about the boiled eggs either ftr.
You should probably stay away from Family Guy, then. And definitely don’t click this link.
Or people who lick their fingers to count money. I have to resist the urge to tell them how gross money really is. Also, feet. I don’t know what it is, but they are just weird. My feet are tolerable, but heaven forbid someone else touches me with their bare feet! Even my fiancee and best friend since third grade know to keep their feet to themselves.
I thought of this post while on the subway today. A guy was eating marshmallows right out of the bag, but thanks to the heat here, it seems they all stuck together, so he had ripped the bag open and was biting directly into the gooey mass of half-melted marshmallows and washing it down with water from a huge water bottle. He looked rather content!
Beautiful young vibrant women who have some gigantic tatoo or more wrapped around their bodies. Yecch. Turns me right off.
Milk and people drinking milk. Milk mustaches. Anything, really, to do with liquid milk. (Not milk products like ice cream or cheese, though. They are yum.)
Oh yeah: Also the word “milk.” Ew.
Oh, and bananas. I’m not a big fan of any soft fruit, but I can’t stand bananas. It’s not the flavor, although that’s not so great, either; it’s the texture. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.
The “strings” when you peel a banana. There are…strings. Ick.
I won’t look at a clock from the time I go to bed until I am ready to get up in the morning. If I have to get up in the night, I avoid looking at clocks. When I wake up in the morning I turn on the radio and listen until I hear what time it is, then I can get up and look at clocks and go about my business.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
My sister, when we were younger, liked to touch everything with her toes. Things. People. Me. I called it her ‘monkey feet.’ Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Oh, I hope she outgrew it. I’m sure she did. Right?
This makes me upset on your behalf. One of the reasons I never tell anyone IRL about my stomach-poking phobia is that there are so many idiots who would then take it upon themselves to poke my stomach, even if it would never have occurred to them to do it before.
I guess I could use it as a litmus test for weeding people from my life – “Getting poked in the stomach upsets me to the point of tears [waits expectantly]”
Yesterday a woman in the parking started twitching and screaming like I had never heard anyone scream before. I thought she was having an epileptic fit.
Turns out there was a dragonfly on her arm.
This. Thank God for white boards.
I feel the same way about velour. Just thinking about it is enough to make me feel that texture in my mouth. I wouldn’t take a car with velour seats if you paid me to.
Gotta go brush my teeth now so I can stop thinking about it.
Oh, that reminds me. I get totally squicked out by milk bubbles. Foam is fine, so no problem when it comes to a latte, but a kid blowing into hisstraw to make big milk bubbles, or worse, a baby making milk bubbles with his lips makes me need to shut my eyes and concentrate to suppress the urge to gag.
I’d forgotten all about it until the that post.