I'm the recipient of another tagging, thanks to the ever adorable Heather.
Here are the rules of this particular tag.
-Link to the person that tagged you.
- Post the rules on your blog.- Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
- Tag six people and at the end of your post, link to their blogs.- Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
First the jingle. Habits and quirks, habits and quirks, our habits and quirks drive people berserks. And now on to: "Freaky things you wanted to know about Babs, but were afraid to ask."
1. I have to rub my belly 3 times before I go to sleep. I think this goes back to when I was little, I would always ask my older sisters to rub my belly to help me get to sleep. Either that, or I think I'm Buddha, and I'm rubbing it for good luck. Not that my belly is Buddhaesque, his is just the first good luck belly that popped in my head.
2. Whenever I'm at a restaurant, I watch couples and try to decide if it's their first date, if they've been dating for awhile, or if they're married. First dates are always the best ones, because there's a greater chance that due to nervousness, somebody's going to knock over a drink. Or laugh and squirt pop out their nose. Or even fart, burp or queef. You have to admit, some chick queefing on the first date at a restaurant would be pretty damn funny. And, I'm sure, given time, she'd see the humor in it, too.
3. I always start my way from the back of a magazine and work my way to the front. Same way with crossword puzzles. I always start with the challenger puzzles and work my way to the easy ones.
4. When I get really stressed, I rub either the left side of my forehead or the left side of my neck. Sometimes I do this so much, I get a rash from it. Like diaper rash only on my head.
5. I don't do this as much as I used to, but sometimes when people are talking I find myself "typing" their conversation. It's not like I hold my hands out in front of me and type on my imaginary keyboard. But, I'll type against my legs. Jesus Christ, that's just weird, and there's no telling what kind of condition people think I have when they notice me typing on my legs.
6. I think I've written about this before, but I always have to get the third newspaper in the stack. I have no idea why. I don't grab the third magazine from the stand, but now that I think about it, if the magazines were stacked, I'd grab the third one. What's the deal with me and the number 3?
So, there you have it. It took me way too many days to come up with such a lame list, so I'm going to tag 6 people who can come up with a less lame list than I did.
Take Care,
Babs the Third.
My list is pretty much as lame as yours, because I share many of the same quirks. So, rather than writing a whole post of my own, I thought I'd take up some space here at Flumadiddle.
ReplyDelete1. I also have to rub your belly 3 times before I go to sleep. That accounts for my insomnia all these years, as I know neither you nor your belly.
2. My wife and I also watch couples at restaurants. The other night, we were out with four friends, and the six of us watched a couple at a nearby table argue and argue and argue. We were all riveted, and pretty soon other people noticed us watching and watched, too. It was like the whole restaurant was the studio audience at a TV drama. As it turned out, that night was the couple's wedding anniversary and he'd told her that, if he had it to do over again, he wasn't sure he'd marry her. She went ballistic, but that quiet kind where the person whispers really loudly. Anyway, there was no farting, burping, or queefing, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a shooting when they got home.
3. Sometimes the only thing I read in a magazine is the crossword puzzle, but only if it's somewhere near the back. Note, however: When I fill it in, I don't actually write the letters backwards.
4. I've never done forehead or neck rubbing. Do other body parts count?
5. Well, I don't actually simulate typing people's conversations, but I do picture what the dialogue would look like in script form. I'm not kidding. Years ago, when I took a playwriting course in college, one of our assignments was to write a conversation we'd overheard. No fair taking notes. It was the best writing homework I'd ever had, very revelatory about the kind of writer each student aspired to be. Turned out that the people who admired Tennessee Williams overheard conversations fraught with sexual tension, the people who admired Neil Simon heard conversations loaded with one-liners, and the people who liked Edward Albee or Harold Pinter heard conversations that made very little sense. I'm sure if there had been someone in the class fixated on Shakespeare, he or she would have overheard a conversation spoken completely in iambic pentameter.
6. I grab the fourth or the fifth. The third is still too close to the top for me. I wouldn't want to get exposure-to-the-air cooties. Of course, if the fourth is the bottom one, I might take the third because I don't want I-touched-the-shelf cooties, either.
Exterminator said,"As it turned out, that night was the couple's wedding anniversary and he'd told her that, if he had it to do over again, he wasn't sure he'd marry her."
ReplyDeleteGood one - LOL.
OK, Miss Babs, ya got me. I've been all over the world, speak four languages, know venacular and slang in many others, but I confess myself to be stumped.
ReplyDelete"Queefing!!??" That's a new one on me.
@ Sarge - it's a female only fart. Get the idea?
ReplyDelete@ Babs - When I get really stressed, I rub either the left side of my forehead or the left side of my neck. Sometimes I do this so much, I get a rash from it. Like diaper rash only on my head.
I'm guessing your whole left side is a bloody mess right about now!
By the way, ever read any books on obsessive complusive disorder? Just wondering. No special reason. Read my comment 3 times before answering.
Babs said: What's the deal with me and the number 3?
ReplyDeleteBabs last post: The Trinity
A fellow leg-typer!
ReplyDeleteI honestly hadn't even realised I did it until you mentioned it. Aaaargh! Another quirk! Come to think of it, I also sometimes count the syllables of peoples' sentences against my leg with my fingers. If I start, I can't stop until the end on a sentence that has a multiple of five syllables, ie. they have to finish when I tap my pinky finger. Sometimes it can take a while.
I am obviously more OCD than I ever admitted...
Once again, I am at a loss... Babs? Quirky doesn't even BEGIN to tell the tale. YOUR WHOLE BLOG IS A GUMBO OF QUIRKS!!!
ReplyDeleteAnother post well done!!
I thought I was the only person who types without the benefit of a keyboard, but I do it against the thumbs.
ReplyDeleteGreat column from Mark Morford today that I thought you might like.
I'm just a freak and there's no way around it....list or no list!
ReplyDelete"YOUR WHOLE BLOG IS A GUMBO OF QUIRKS!!!"
ReplyDeleteBut with stinky, um, "sausages".
Couples I don't bother observing. Singles I enjoy, though. It's like live Discovery channel, or those old Mutual of Omaha nature shows. Big fun.
Ex - Imagine how creepy cool it would be if you could see in script what I was typing on my legs.
ReplyDeleteSarge - Well, I guess Evo covered this one for me. A bit more subtly than my "vaginal flatulence" definition.
Evo - Thankfully I can wear my Phantom of the Opera mask when I go out in public, so I don't look like some kind of bloody freak. Trust me, I've discussed my fascination with the number three with my therapist. He says it's just a quirk. But, I always make him say it 3 times.
Heather - I've done the syllable thing, too.
Lifey - Aw. That's so sweet. Thanks.
Kat - Another leg typer. YAY!
Carla - But, your freakness is why I like you so much.
Philly - I think someone should come up with a Mutual of Omaha dating show.
Thank you all for youe elucidations! I kind of figured that was it. In my youth in that time and place, we referred to that process as "squishing".
ReplyDeleteIt's odd the way such things can affect your life.
My one-day-wife-to-be went to college and I went into the army, and we broke it off, and I was close to home for a while and would come home on pass, and I took up with a young woman I'd known at a distance in high school. Very different stratas, she, and I, but we liked each other and things started to actually get somewhere. Then, about the fifth time we went out, we'd gone to dinner and were on our way to a movie, and...it...happened.
It wasn't me! It wasn't a "squeef", a "squish", nor was it a fart. If there is a Gabriel, and he, indeed, sounds The Last Trump what I heard would surely be a warm-up note. In courtesy, I made no mention of it even though I wondered about my car's upholstry and worried that the glass in the windshield might warp, and even that it might seep into the engine well and starve out the engine.
Nope, I ignored it, I made no comment, just asked where she liked to sit in the theater. Didn't hoot and laugh, didn't gasp and gag (REAL hard work!), didn't jibe and make sport by asking if we should go back and complain because there must have been old tires in our meal.
She shreiked at me to take her home, told me she never wanted to see me again, told her parents she was not at home to me. I could maybe understand it if I had been the one to do it. But for a fart, what wiould my life have been like, I wonder?
But, I have hope. A young lady I reenact with, very lovely, well brought up, polite, had a farting episode last year while we were on our way home. We'd stopped to eat and she bent over to tie her shoe and "unstoppered". A woman in line complained at such insolence, said, she couldn't believe this young lady would do that in front of her. Stace says, "I apologize, I didn't know it was your turn. Bill, you wait, please go ahead, ma'am."
It was refreshing!
Bravo Sarge, bravo!
ReplyDeleteI'm not convinced that Buddha has a 'good luck' belly.
ReplyDeleteI was going to ask what the heck queef means but seeing the comments - I'm now afraid to.
Pop on a first date? I don't think I could survive a first date without alcohol.
Okay. You type people's conversations back at them? Dear god. You're right out of a Candid Camera episode, aren't you!
Sarge, I love your friend's quick-witted response. Absolutely perfect!
ReplyDeleteShe's quite a gal. I wish I could live long enough to see how she and some of the others come out.
ReplyDeleteSarge - That was a great story. Loved your friend's response.
ReplyDeleteFwig - I know, I'm a freak. But remember, you adopted me.
I had to actually Google "Queef" I only knew it as Varts. I think I read it in one of those sophisticate 60's magazines that concentrated on sex and all constructs thereto. I rather like Queef better than Varts.
ReplyDeleteRoyce - Varts? I mean, I can see how the word originated, but it sounds so crude. Not that expelling air from your hoo is dainty, but queef is definitely the better word.
ReplyDeleteIt is, in some odd way, reassuring to know that someone, somewhere else, is also tapping away with their fingers as they replay the syllables they have just heard someone speak. LOL... I try to make my hand stop it at times, thinking if I just RELAX it will all stop. Then there are those days, weeks, months, when I just quit worrying about it and happily let my fingers do their thing. Besides, if they're tapping then they aren't picking at my lip.
ReplyDeleteDoesn't it all just make you laugh? We are all such interesting creatures.