Category — What a Goober I Am

I was in Chicago years ago with a group of friends to play a massive game of Rails. (Some of them had figured out an ingenious way to connect different Rails boards to make “Around the World Rails.”) We were taking a break and I was full of my first taste of Chicago pizza and nut brown ale, stretched out on the carpet with a friend giving me the most heavenly back massage. It was amazing and I was putty in his hands. I had just moaned something about how RELAXED I was. Then he pushed just a smidgen too hard. Unexpectedly.

I farted like a thunderous Hollywood sound effect. Like a trumpet sounding the return of Jesus Christ. Like a factory whistle at quitting time. This was not a one-cheek sneak.

There was a stunned silence and then everyone started howling. And in the first lull of laughter, I blurted out, “Maybe TOO relaxed,” and they all cracked up again.

Mortally embarrassing moment + joke = me. Yeah, and I got to hear every possible wisecrack about “the windy city” that weekend, too.

What’s YOUR embarrassing story?

Technorati Tags: fart, butt trumpet of glory, embarrassing story

Photo credit: Mag3737 some rights reserved

I just noticed the other morning that I always, but ALWAYS, break a Q-Tip in half before I throw it away. This useless little step identifies the swab as trash, but I’m mystified as to why that little quirk arose. Were people rooting around in my trash one day, looking for salvageable Q-Tips, and I needed to ward them off? ::eye roll::

I started keeping a list of what other weird habits I have and mentioned it in passing to my husband, sofor the past week or two he’s been helpfully adding to the list of other weirdnesses:

If I get a run in a pair of pantyhose, I’ll sometimes catch myself tying a knot in that leg before throwing it away. THIS, at least, has an origin: In my dirt-poor college days, I would cut off the snagged leg and save the rest of the hose; when I had two such pair, I could wear them both and look like I still had an unblemished pair of hose. Anyone who didn’t have under-the-skirt privileges couldn’t tell the diff between this ingenuity and new stockings. And any season pass holder who DID get to lift the hem … didn’t care. *wink*

I always keep the heel of a loaf of bread in place within the bread wrapper, digging behind it for a fresh slice, even though I never eat it. I’m convinced that the heel bookends the next slice and keeps it fresher and moister.

Soap is where my cheapness abides. I almost can’t stand to throw away a soap shard and will lather away at a sliver of soap before I give in and open a new bar. At least I’ve weaned myself from the habit of lumping the skinny piece onto the damp new bar like a little soap parasite.

Funny come first in the newspaper. Unless there’s been a mind-bending disaster or scandal, I always read the paper in a specific order: The comics, letters to the editor, Lifestyle section, and then all other sections in alphabetical order, skipping sports and classifieds. And I never, ever, ever read ads or inserts except the day before Thanksgiving.

Cereal pours better when the bag’s out of the box. I pull the wax paper bag of cereal out of the box before filling my bowl. (That way the bag doesn’t slide out when I’m pouring.) And I always tear open the whole top of the bag, not just a miserly corner of it. POURS BETTER, you know.

“Flat” ain’t where it’s at. I won’t drink the last inch or two in a two-liter bottle of soft drink because it’s always lost its fizz. But I keep the bottle around because my mom, who lives with us, will drink diet Coke of any fizziness level.

Some foods have to be cold. I won’t put the ketchup packets in my fast-food bags with the burgers because ketchup HAS to be cold for my hot fries. Preferably, I get to bite into my burger while the pickels are still chilly too.

Okay — ‘fess up. What are YOU weird about?

Technorati Tags: Quirks, weird habits

I was talking with my older daughter, Ginny, a few days ago and reached in my makeup bag for some Chapstick because my lips get so chapped in the winter. I was looking at her and not at my hands. Boy, that Chapstick was really dried out — what a piece of junk! I looked down, and I was faithfully slathering a stick of WART REMOVER on my lips. It never actually burned, but I was howling for a tissue while I rubbed at my mouth. Ginny couldn’t get up to grab a tissue for me because she was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Yes, the ol’ kisser is nice and shiny smooth today … NO WARTS!

Technorati Tags: warts,  Chapstick,  goober