Friday, September 13, 2013


I saw a commercial today for an amusement park, or with people in it at an amusement park, or for something being sold using an amusement park. I don’t remember. There were too many roller coaster shots.

Yep, put those on my “scared” list. Old fashioned coasters without loops or corkscrews or tall, tight banking are fine, especially if they are wooden. But these spinning, twisted, diving coasters? No. You go.

Tonight I learned about something called “lint flies”. Apparently, these nasty little things fly around during the day, land on you, and look like dryer lint. One of my friends thinks they are cute. I’m adding them to the list of things that I will swat if they get too close, unless I am too busy flailing and running away from a swarm.

I have been known to fly across the room and cringe against a wall when I see a moth. They won’t hurt me, but I own a goodly amount of good wool yarn, and while my left-brain knows that not all moths are wool-killers, my right brain is screaming, “Kill kill kill before it murders my yarn.”

Let me just lay it out. If it flies and might get in my nose, mouth, or hair, or bite or sting me, I want to be as far from it as possible.

My partner and I have several animals—2 dogs, 2 cats, 3 guinea pigs, a hamster and a fish. So my “ick” at cleaning up animal messes is a point of contention. I will do it, but eeewww.

Not manly in the least, I know.

Also not manly—I am seriously “icked” by raw fish. I’ve been fishing. Once. A few years ago, we went fishing in a friend’s pond. I boldly baited the hook with a piece of cheap hotdog and flung out my line (fishing line and cane pole). Within a few moments, I had a fish. No one prepares you for that.  It was dangling and wriggling and its mouth was gaping open and close, open and close. I pretty much turned my head away while my partner detached the fish and threw it back. He offered to let me do the honors. Not happening, y’all.

I’m completely terrified of any spider that is not a cute-and-fuzzy tarantula. I’ve finally come to a point where is no one else is around, or if I don’t want to embarrass myself, I can squish one. With my shoe stuck way out or a wad of paper. Timidly.

Right up there is something that I KNOW a lot of men are lying about when they say it’s…”wonderful, natural, beautiful”. Childbirth. Thanks to my friends and Facebook, which allows postings of pictures without warning labels, I have seen more about this subject than I ever, ever cared to. Please folks, give those of us who are a wee bit squeamish some warning. I have already told our dear girlfriend that if she ever decides to have a baby, I will be by her head.

Along with childbirth goes part of the inevitable after-effect–diapers. Don’t do them. Won’t. I’ve made this abundantly clear to my friends with babies of diapering age. I have changed a diaper. Once. There are some sights and smells that can never, ever, be bleached from your brain. Ick.

And let me tell you about the stupidest fear imaginable, and how the dumb things we do as children can stick with us forever. I cannot touch mirrors in the dark. If that is not “unmanly”, I don’t know what is. Too many games of Bloody Mary and too many bloody horror movies at a tender age.

Some things you never outgrow.

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