I was doing something weird in the kitchen last night* (nothing like that; it had to do with English muffins–which is not a euphemism, either) and I thought, “I wonder how many quirks I have. And I wonder how many people do similar things.”
It feels a bit self-absorbed to make a post entirely devoted to my own strange ways, but maybe I can justify it with the thought that some equally odd people will see how weird I am and say, “I’M NOT ALONE!” Also, all those
boring normal people out there can be jealous glad that they’re not more like us weird ones. ;)
To begin, here are some peeves. I don’t like saying “pet” peeve because a pet is something you canoodle and care for and appreciate. A peeve is an annoying nuisance that you’d quit if you could (because it’s often irrational) but you can’t, so you keep it.
As you can see, mental stability runs in the family.
- Sameness of Order
When a couple comes to the cafe and they both order the exact same thing, it really, really bugs me. Seriously, I will assume there’s oppression going on. I always look suspiciously from the wife to the husband, wondering which one holds the gun in the relationship. Yes. I’m that close-minded that I don’t believe anyone in their right mind would willingly order the exact same thing as their partner. Especially when it’s something like a half Med Veggie and a cup of black bean soup with a whole grain baguette.
Customer: And the same for me, please.
Me: *incredulous* The exact same?
Me: *suspicious glances* Oookaaay…
My only hope is when they bring their child with them and he/she orders something different. I really felt like crying for joy when the last order of three older sisters broke the pattern.
- Feet UN-fetish
No one touches my feet. I have kicked people in the face for threatening my feet. I have twice enjoyed foot massages, but one was by a professional, (a professional pedicurist, you gutter rats!) and one was when Europe would have killed me dead had foot rubs not been initiated by the girls who were bunking together.
- Open Door Syndrome
I do not have an open door policy. Certainly not a literal one. People shouldn’t stand in doorways with doors open, either. Come in or stay out. Make up your mind and. Shut. The. Door. I really love our office in Panera. The door is always closed.
- Yogurt Floaties
Dear coworkers: I love you. I really do. Well, depending on who you are… I love most of you. :P But please stop putting the yogurt scooper in the water basin BEFORE you rinse it in the sink! It takes about five seconds or less to make sure those horrible floaties don’t haunt the top of
mythe barista basin. :(
- Change is Bad Except When it’s Good
When my pen is not in use, it’s on my apron string. The ice pitcher is always on top of the ice chest. The chalk marker… it could be anywhere, and that is part of its consistency; being inconsistent. :P But really, I do not like change. I’m sure plenty of other people resist change, but I have an odd way of loathing the very thought of change… and then quickly adapting. I adapt like… *snaps fingers* So it’s very confusing being me when a lot of changes go on in my life. Changes Iiii did not initiate nor approve, I should say. It makes me nervous just thinking about change.
- Say Goodbye. “I SAID SAY GOODBYE, FOOLS!!”
I hate it when people leave and don’t say goodbye. Even if they’re just leaving church, or leaving a party, or leaving work for the day. I need that closure! What if it’s the last time we ever see each other and we never had a proper goodbye!? Some people hate saying goodbye–I hate not saying goodbye. That last line in caps was in reference to a funny thing a coworker did when her goodbye went unheard by two managers. She turned around and with a total anime expression yelled, “I SAID GOODBYE, FOOLS!” Aaah, Haley. Gotta love her. <3
Now some weird things I just do.
- English Muffin Conflict
I can never decide what tastes better: an English muffin with just butter, or one with butter and jam. So I always butter each half and only put jam on one side. Then I alternate bites so I get my pure, lathered in butter muffin and my slightly fruity sweetened and buttered muffin in the same sitting.
- Read, Not Reply
I’m really bad for doing this, but I read pretty much all my messages, comments, etc, right away. They’re never unread for longer than the length of my work shift. (Even less if it’s a Facebook comment that sends updates to my phone.) But I hardly ever reply right away. Or within a day. Or a week. Some messages sit for months. I know. I’m a selfish word horder.
So I don’t know what all this makes me. Slightly OCD? Severely ADD? Whatever. I’ll take pills if they taste like chocolate and make me act like I’m on a caffeine high! :D
*It was no longer last night since I started this post weeks ago.