This post was inspired by Gabbie Hanna's video "Finally Telling the Truth..". She gave a run down of all her weird quirks and I thought, YEAH, IT'S THURSDAY, LET'S SET THIS SHIT FREE. So, here we are.
I pick my nose. And, by picking my nose I mean, I pick it all the time to the point where I have scabs INSIDE MY NOSE. Picture a hinged door— those are the kind of boogers that hang out in there. They fly open everytime I breathe and the feeling can only be explained as the baby of an itch and being tickled— the twitchy kind.
I have a weird moral code. I can't lie, I can't break certain rules and I can't cheat. All of these things give me anxiety— and ensure I'm one step behind everyone else, quite literally.
"What? You can't jaywalk? Like, you're going to walk all the way around when you can just cross here?" YUP.
"OMG I just bought this top I love it so much, don't you just love my really
cuteugly new top!? [LOOKS THE OTHER WAY & SLOWLY MELTS OUT OF THE ROOM].
I only believe in cash when I find it. If I see a dollar or a quarter on the ground in my apartment that definitely belongs to my boyfriend, I take the dollar. I can't NOT take the dollar. I also feel the urge to hide it somewhere.
In college, when I was drunk all the time, I used to hide all my valuables and was never able to find them— until I graduated. When I moved out, I found so many things under my mattress, wrapped in socks, buried in a corner of my closet or wedged behind the tv.
It is important to note I would never take anything other a dollar. I feel nothing when it comes to five dollar bills— just dollars. I really like dollars.
I hate double dipping. I would NEVER double dip, even alone. I think it is repulsive.
I also hate soda. All soda. I don't like looking at it, I don't like the smell, I don't like anything about it. I hate it so much and I have no idea why. Also, ginger beer is fine.
I have OCD and most of my things fall under perfectionism or checking behaviors. Every night before I go to bed, I run around and make sure all the doors and windows are locked— many, many times until it "feels right". It also takes a bit to leave the house because, locking things, and OMG I SUDDENLY FEEL LIKE I USED THE OVEN. Then, I remember I do not actually have an oven in my tiny San Francisco apartment, but decide to double check anyway.
I eat very fast. By fast, I mean I literally inhale my food. I try to eat slower when I'm around other people, but even that speed is remarkably fast. It's gross, unattractive and I'm very sorry about it.
..That was a trick. If you know me at all, you know I'm actually not very sorry about it. In fact, I feel nothing. You can't get upset over things that are never going to change.
I don't really believe in washing my hands. I only wash my hands at work or before I hold a baby— because no one wants to be that person who gets a baby sick.
Aren't you glad you get to call this weirdo your friend?
You may even get a part two, or three.