|I think I may be safe|
I wish I could say it was completely appropriate or even made sense, but these days? Not so much. These days I find myself increasingly getting all worked up over seemingly “little” things.
Top Ten Bucket List of Weird-O Fears:
Pinterst Boards. (Just wait because it will TOTALLY make sense here in a minute.) So you’re monkeying around on Pinterest and you decide to check out the boards of someone who just started following one of yours, right? Seems like the cool thing to do.
2) Driving. Anymore driving scares the living CRAP outta me. It’s not that I’m actually afraid of the act of driving, but more that I no longer possess the amount of focus required to watch where I’m going, watch the cars around me for morons, carry on animated conversations with either passengers or myself, continually station-surf for the perfect driving music, and scream at people out the window while making rude gestures with the hand I’m not using for animated conversations and/or station surfing.
I MUST be losing y edge in my middle years…*sigh*
3) Teenagers. Teenagers today scare me. It’s not the not-quite-all-there clothing they wear, the BAD wanna-be music they listen to, their total lack or respect for anyone or anything, or even the way they all seem to move in herds with a “hive mind” mentality. Nope. What REALLY scares me about teenagers is that someday when I eventually snap all over one due to the above list of traits, they won’t be 18 yet and I’ll end up being charged with child abuse instead of simple assault and battery.
4) Toxic death from splash-back. (Hey, it could happen!) OK, ANYONE with any kind of bowel glitch at all, EVER knows the danger of “splash-back.” Please tell me you know what I’m talking about because I REALLY don’t want to go into a detailed description of this and I’m betting you don’t want me to either.
Anyway, as a female there are other “concerns” with splash-back and recently I have been fighting the urge to cleanse with a flippin’ fire hose just to make sure I don’t accidentally go all septic and shiz-nit, which doesn’t even make any kind of sense. But THAT is the very definition of an irrational fear, right? It’s IRRATIONAL!
5) That people secretly think I’m crazy. (OK, you can stop laughing now. REALLY!) You see, I am TOTALLY cool with people being open about the fact that they think I’m crazy. That kinda thing is rather freeing, since I don’t have to worry about trying as hard to appear normal or anything. It’s when I’m trying really hard and they’re being all covert about thinking I’m crazy that I get nervous.
Let’s make a deal. If we ever meet up live and in person? I won’t fake normal and you won’t hide that you’re convinced I’m ready for the Funny Farm. Deal? Cool!
6) More and more lately I find myself getting nervous about leaving the house. As far as this one is concerned? See #2, #3, #5, #7, #8 and #9. ESPECIALLY #9!
7) Panty lines. OK, I know this one SEEMS silly, but really? Ever since I was in Jr. High I have had this mortifying fear of panty lines. There are not even words to properly describe my overwhelming fear of these horrid little fashion faux pas. It’s like subconsciously I believe someone could die a slow, horrible death by panty lines. Which could possibly be the impetus for my love of Commando. No panties equals no panty lines. Right?
Wait, was that TMI?
8) Stupid people. Now, I’m not talking about IQ numbers or those who never had the chance for higher education. I’m talking about dumb-ass by choice. These people make me VERY nervous and glitchy. You see, I live in constant fear of the “perfect storm.” That would be a day when pain levels are high, my hormones runneth over, and I am faced with one of Nature’s true dumb-asses. And I lose all ability to NOT tell them exactly how big of a dumb-ass I believe they are being.
Please don’t laugh, as this almost occurred two weeks ago. At Wal-Mart. In the check-out line. It took all the strength of will I possessed plus hubby’s protective, loving (restraining) arm around my shoulders to quell the storm that was fighting to be released into the atmosphere.
Yes my friends, my HUGE fear is one day hubs won’t be there to help and I will be banned for life from Wal-Mart. (Or given a Medal of Honor by the Store Manager. I’m not sure which is worse.)
9) Zit-splosions. OK, I suffer from a serious fear of someone else’s pimples exploding on me. I am NOT even joking with this one, although I wish I was.
It’s bad enough that I can’t even talk to strangers who have giant puss-warts without reflexively covering my mouth and taking a step back.
My offspring and spouse fear the swift and merciless sweep of my popping hand on their faces, forcing them into hiding when one of these evil entities appear, lest Mom hunt them down with all the dogged determination of Fox Mulder hunting the poor little green guy who survived the crash and was only here looking for the perfect burrito anyway because, ya know, you just can’t find good burritos on Mars. (WOW! Kinda ran off on a tangent there, didn’t I?)
Anyway, I KNOW I’m not the only one who lives with this particular dark secret, because I’ve seen Osmosis Jones. Which, I might add, did NOTHING to help with this one. *gag*
10) OK, I saved the weirdest one for last. Posting. That’s right. I get the heebie-jeebies each and EVERY time I post! Maybe it’s because I screwed-up on such an epic level in a former-blog life. Maybe it’s that I’m afraid I’ll be laughing alone. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of people actually reading what I write and judging me by it. (PFFT! Like THAT would ever happen!) Or, it could be I’m just THAT screwy!