February 18, 2011
Taking some inspiration from a toilet brush and a hair appointment, I'm going to talk a little about hangups today. Hangups: You know, those seemingly irrational things that bug the piss out of you.
And I'm not going to explain the 'toilet brush and hair appointment' remark. Because it's my blog, and I'll do what I want. Plus, it makes me sound interesting to make vague associations...and junk.
Strange people touching me- I don't mean just inappropriate groping. I mean completely asexual situations. Professional massages- Never had one, never will. I do not want your nasty hands on me. Go away. Hair stylists at salons- I always wash my hair before I get a haircut so they won't wash it. It creeps me out. They are massaging my head with their hands. Eewww. Shaking hands with people I don't know- Nope, I'm not a germophobe, not at all. I just don't want to shake your hand. And if you aren't married to me or if you didn't squeeze me out of your hoo-hoo, you're only getting a one-armed hug. And, of course, people who think it's perfectly okay to pick me up because I'm small- Right. Yeah, that's cool. Just go ahead and spin me around while you're at it. You know, cuz I represent the Lollipop Guild and all that....
Mani/Pedis- This is actually sort of justified. I'm a medical transcriptionist. At least once or twice a day I get the privilege of hearing about fungus and toenail removals due to manicures and/or pedicures. The doctors describe this shit in detail. And they use words like "ooze" and "serosanguinous drainage" and "odor" and "ulceration" and "gangrene." Yeah. I'll pass.
Makeup- Okay, this shit is just gross. I have yet to find a brand of makeup that doesn't feel gross on my skin. I've tried Almay, Neutrogena, Bare Minerals, Prescriptives, eh. It's all gross. After a couple of hours, I'm ready to pull a Poltergeist. And I can't just wash it off, I have to get in the damn shower to get it off. It's greasy, heavy, and it actually starts to sting my skin. I have fairly mild melasma; I have adult acne; I have crow's feet. And I don't fucking care.
Hairdryers and hair chemicals- I have insanely thick hair, insanely thick. And I hate the way my hair feels when it has been dyed, hairsprayed, and/or blow-dried. It's gets 80s big, heavy, and witchy. My hair has natural wave, and when it's allowed to air-dry naturally, with no mousse or hairspray, it actually looks like the girls' hair on the commercials for hair products that promise to make your hair look.......like mine already looks naturally. I use Suave shampoo and conditioner, a buck fifty a bottle, and that's it. And I swear to all that is good and holy, if one of those over-painted hair stylists start comin' at me with their chemicals and instruments of hair torture, I will run, and she will not get a tip.
Dog hair- Let's get one thing straight. Basset hounds shed all fucking year round. It doesn't matter how expensive or super-duper Westminster-approved the shampoo you use is. Basset hounds are going to shed enough to stuff a fucking pillow in a matter of weeks. So it almost seems like my own brand of personal torture, considering I have such a dog hair hangup, to allow that little hairy hooker to continue to live in my house. But I have. For 11 goddamn years. Because she's just so damn cute. I've been known to vacuum multiple times a day. I'd vacuum the furniture, and not with the hose attachment. I'd put the whole fucking vacuum cleaner on the sofa because the attachment just wasn't doing it for me. And I have an incredibly shameful admission (are you ready?).....I was secretly happy when she slipped a disk in her back because that meant I had a REAL reason (other than my personal hangup) to no longer allow her on the furniture. I mean, you know, it was a $4000 reason....but....at least there isn't a fine white layer of dog hair on my couches anymore.
Conformity- I don't mean this in a fashionably rebellious sort of way. I mean this in a pathologic sort of way. It has grown into a completely reflexive attitude. In the beginning, as a teenager, it was just fun. Refusing to conform, pushing the boundaries. But instead of emotionally maturing, it's gotten worse. To the point where when I hear stories of kids getting suspended because they've dyed their hair pink, my first reaction is to say, "If I were her mother, I'd burn the motherfuckin' school down! You don't fucking tell my goddamn motherfuckin kid what to do, I will dig your grandmother's body up motherfucker!.....grumble, grumble, grumble......" I remember getting a postcard in the mail from the county once, informing me that it was against the rules to have a basketball goal set up by the curb. I was steaming fucking mad! It was all Sarge could do to keep me from putting the basketball goal smack in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Needless to say, the basketball goal now gets rolled back up next to the house when the kids are done playing. Grumble.... grumble....grumble.... Stupid ass motherfuckers tryina tell me what to do....I'll show them a thingertoo!
Talking on the phone and pointless "chatting." This one sort of makes me feel guilty sometimes. I know my mom likes to talk on the phone more often than I do. But I just don't seem to.....(and this is strange)....know how to do it. Really. I don't know how. I used to talk incessantly as a kid, but as an adult, silence is golden. If I'm at a social event, I really have to pay close attention to my body language and attitude. I can very easily fall into "sarcastic mode" that I don't even try to hide. Mainly because I have zero desire to talk to people I don't know. And I don't even know how to fake it. I really don't know how.
Them- "Hi! I've heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you!"
Me- "Yeah."
Them- "So you're Sarge's wife?"
Me- "Yeah."
Them- "So, Sarge tells me you guys homeschool. That's so interesting!"
Me- "Yeah."
Speaking is for saying things that need to be said. It is a necessary function of being human. If I have nothing that needs to be said (like, "OH MY GOD.....I'M ON FUCKING FIRE!!!"), then don't expect a conversation. Unless I'm blogging. Or you can email me. Then, I'll write you a book.
Oh, one more convo (and this one really happened....like, yesterday)
Sarge- "Hey sexy, whatcha doin?"
Me- "Nuthin."
Sarge- "Miss you."
Me- Miss you, too"
(Crickets).....
Me- "Okay, well, I don't have anything to talk about, soooo......bye!"
Could you imagine having to put up with me?
7 minions who have sucked on my crap:
I hate the phone, too. I won't even answer it. I like to play "phone tag" with people instead. They call, leave me a voice mail, I call back, and leave a voice mail for them. It can go on for days.
Text me, people! Text me! That way there's no need to fill in those small moments of silence with ridiculous conversation about the weather and shit!
I despise talking on the phone! I'm with LB and the texting...I am the Queen of Text!
Makeup I wear on my eyes...thats it. Otherwise my eyes disappear into the back of my head & I look like that weird, fucked up creature on Hellboy 2 who has it's eyeballs in it's wings. Only I don't have wings...
Conformity is for the weak just as rehab is for quitters.
I'm totally jealous of your hair now...if I didn't use all that crap in my hair I would have a white girl fro...
The reason I live in a subdivision (but with no HOA, LOL) is because otherwise I might be living next to Bobby Joe and his 16 meth-cooking cousins who use Rebel flags as curtains and leave a minimum of 10 dilapidated cars in the yard with three feet of grass around them. There ARE county-wide ordinances here but the Metropolitan Planning Commission will usually only take action when it involves a subdivision. And as bourgeois as it sounds, I'm not rich enough to eat the depreciation on my house if I live next to a hoarder. All that annoying grown-up shit, you know. Thank God many of my neighbors are from the north, elderly and anal about yard upkeep. The other half must be part of the Witness protection program. I don't see them come, go, say "boo" or mow the yard. But I am on a waving basis with their yard people and cleaning ladies.
I don't know if I'm a conformist. All I know is I wouldn't thrive in jail. What does piss me off are laws addressing someone else's effed up perceptions of smart behavior-texting while driving, etc. No, I don't and I wouldn't but are we collectively so damn stupid we have to be given punitive measures for not using common sense? And when people make their own rules. No, you are not "better" than me; therefore you do not have the right to run the red light when I have the green.
My mantra therefore is: take care of your shit and I'll take care of mine. When it goes outside this parameter, I am known to get slightly confrontational, or as my son says, "Write a strongly worded letter." And truth be told, I am one of those people who come across as insipid until you receive a diatribe from me.
My dogs shed so much even my "pet hair" Dyson has a hard time keeping up. But I've never owned a dog whose ass was allowed to touch the furniture. I thought I would like a cat at one point but realized that you can't train them to stay on the ground. Feet in litter box--feet on kitchen table, feet on the kitchen counters--the stuff of nightmares. But like you, I love my dogs enough to block out some of the annoyance.
Mark me jealous of your hair as well.
And you know, it may not be so odd that you don't like strange people touching you. I mean, aren't massages for folks who can't get groped at home?
Barb- Lay off Bobby Joe. He's my cousin. And my dad. Cuz that's the way we roll in Alabama.
When I cut off all my hair a few months ago to donate to Locks of Love, it was actually the first time in years that I'd had a haircut. The stylist says, "I can't believe how healthy your hair is! What do you use?"
Me- "Umm...shampoo and conditioner."
Stylist- "WOW."
Yeah, I don't have much to brag about physically, so when I find something, I exploit the shit out of it.
I am completely freaked out the mani/pedi thing. I love pedicures. I almost fall asleep in the chair everytime. How will I be able to relax now when I'm freaking out about fungus?!?!?
I also HATE talking on the phone. Not very good news for my family that lives 6 hours away.
I despise talking on the phone myself...especially since I have to do it for a living...
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Suck on my crap