There is also a long list of people I could do without, including Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin (though I'm pretty sure they're really the same person), Martha Stewart and her ubiquitous wares, Brangelina and their 86 kids and the lady who does the Slumberland TV ads because her voice is just So. Fucking. Annoying. And Denny Hecker. I mean, the money isn't yours, man. Let it go. I think I'll save that list for another blog because I'll probably need a little time to figure out how to bitch about them without sounding like I'm planning their deaths.
If I allowed my naturally cynical side to take over, I could come up with a never-ending list of things I wouldn't miss. However, I'll limit myself to 5 items...this time.
- Seafood and fish: I know you want me to like it. I want me to like it too, because I know how nutritious it is and I'm wary of the rancid burps that apparently come along with taking a fish oil supplement. But more than that, I wish I liked seafood to get people the hell off my back about it. "You don't like shrimp or crab? Oh my God! How...how can this be? Rob, come here! You'll never believe...Suzanne doesn't like seafood! Oh, what a crying shame." People keep telling me how nummy lobster is or how I can prepare fish so it doesn't taste "fishy". I'm not saying you shouldn't eat it, just that you shouldn't eat it within 50 yards of me. The simple fact is that even the suggestion of a hint of a whiff of a smell makes me gag. If you ever want to torture me - and believe me, you will - prepare me a dinner of crab cakes, clam chowder, shrimp salad, salmon rolls and a nice big slab of walleye. Threaten me with lemon meringue pie and coffee for dessert and I'll do whatever you want. Mission accomplished.
- Wasps: Granted, I don't know a lot of people who are fans, particularly those who are allergic. I have only been stung twice in my life, both times on the playground at work. Don't think I didn't try to get some worker's comp out of it. The first time was three years ago and I kind of had it coming. I felt something in between my sleeve and my upper arm and when I tried lift the fabric to make an exit for him to escape safely, the little bastard got me. Clearly I was asking for it. The second time was two years ago and I was assaulted in a sneak attack on my butt. It was totally unprovoked and more than a little embarrassing since I went around massaging my own ass for the rest of the day. As if that weren't enough, Ian was stung in the neck seven times when he was about five. To this day he demands we immediately vacate the area anytime a bug appears on the scene. I'm getting tired of apologizing to the fireflies for our rudeness.
- Perfume samples in the Sunday paper: Yes, I'm touchy. It aggravates me when I pick up the Macy's circular and multiple nausea-inducing samples fall out. They float around and defy capture all the while spewing their odors and singeing my nose hairs. While this may be useful in the years ahead, it's not something I have need of right now. The closest I getting to wearing perfume is using a citrus scented body wash and even that is only for special occasions like royal weddings and Wayne Newton concerts. I generally don't care for the way perfume smells on other people, either. I work with a couple of women (and one man) who wear fragrance regularly and smell heavenly. The rest of Earth's population, not so much. Besides, I really have no desire to smell like Paris Hilton, classy though she is. The only possible good that could come from these little odor-soaked papers is if we all save them and then place them strategically around the Tropics Trail at the Minnesota Zoo. Because as nasty as perfume is, it still beats monkey pee.
- Ewwww words: Many people seem to have words they'd like to see obliterated from the vocabulary of the human race. "Moist" is a popular one (hi JM!). I don't remember the genesis of my revulsion, but I cannot hear the words "tender" or "caress" without wanting to slice off my ears. It doesn't matter what context "tender" is used in: tender kiss, tender steak, tender joints. All bad. I know Jackson Browne has a song titled 'Tender is the ..... something, but I don't know what because as soon as I hear my trigger word the radio station gets changed. "Caress" just seems so creepy to me. Is it like groping? Is it like fondling? Is it like getting a too-personal massage from your cousin Dean? I can't ever buy Caress body wash. I can't imagine having to see that word as I'm washing my lady parts. Upon reading or hearing the phrase "tender caress" I get the vapors and have to take to my bed for a solid week.
- Hard candy: Butterscotch lovers of the world have nothing to fear from me. If it ain't chocolate, I ain't interested. Hard candy is, frankly, confusing. Do I chew it, do I suck it, do I suck it then chew it? Ugh. It's all too much. Then there's my aversion to the way the inside of my mouth feels and tastes after oh, say a Jolly Rancher, for example. Puckery and sour is no way to go through your day. My grandma used to keep Wint-O-Green Lifesavers in her purse and dole them out when we kids would get on her nerves. Which was pretty much all the time as I recall, so I've had enough of those to last me till my dying day. Probably well into the afterlife, too. Also, does it strike anyone else as weird that they smell exactly the same as Ben Gay? I feel like candy should not taste like a topical analgesic. I will make exceptions for borderline candies like red vines and melty mints. Though not chocolate, they are still pretty darn tasty and will continue to receive special consideration until such time as I arbitrarily deem them icky.
1 comment:
I get most of your dislikes, but what do you have against white Anglo-Saxon protestants?
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