|No accounting for taste...
||[Sep. 9th, 2008|09:04 am]
Most days, at some point, I think to myself "what the hell is WRONG with me?"|
(Like the eyebrow cracking of yesterday -- no black eye, thankfully) But sometimes it's not about my ability to damage myself in strange mundane ways, or my odds-beating habit of putting my boot on the wrong foot EVERY damn time...
Like, men in uniform.
Nope. Auto-turn-off. Cops, firemen, soldiers...the UPS guy was the only one who came close, but I suspect that was a combination of him just being major eye candy, plus he brought me stuff. That'll make me overlook the uni. Oh, and midshipmen. But only if they look vulnerable and easily frightened. But that could just be bringing out the meangirl in me. I don't know why it is...issues with authority?...but I feel very left out when I'm with a group of women grooving on the boots, or belt o'stuff. I just know that if it were up to me, firemen would NEVER get laid.
Candy. At Halloween I'm a prisoner of Spree, but that's mostly because I need a slow steady influx of sugar to keep me going at mach speed for three days. And I'm powerless in the face of Peeps, which is dumb because they really don't taste like anything, beyond Yellow #3, and they've got that gritty sugar thing which is unpleasant, but, as I chomped my way through an entire package of the Ghost Peeps yesterday, I was unable to stop until every last one of them was gone. But, most other candy....unless it's got fat in it, I can pass up sugar every time...even cake. Unless it's got icing and then I suspect that it's the sensual texture of the icing that gets me. Oooh, that fatty mouthfeel...But as long as it's not chocolate, I can have pounds of candy downstairs waiting for Halloween and never have a twinge of want. Don't even get me started on gum. All that work for a dash of flavor and you don't even get to swallow. The point would be......?
Cars. Not only am I hopeless at identifying them -- car, big car, little car, station wagon, truck, van are the categories I've got, I'm a witness stand nightmare. And I could identify only about half of the brand insignias...Subaru because I'm geeky enough to know what the Pleiades are...Jaguar, because, well it's a jaguar on the hood. And an old car, a cool car, a fast car...leaves me totally cold and uninterested. Carrying capacity, especially as it relates to greyhounds, it my only criteria. I haven't had good luck with guys who are "into" their cars...so, right there, your flashy car is something I'm going to have to overcome.
Mixed Drinks. If there isn't rum in it, the only reason I can get excited about a cocktail is because I'm grooving on the person mixing the drink. And even then, it had better not be a big time-consuming operation, because I want you to pay attention to ME. My attention span is cork-pulling. If there's going to be decanting involved, you'd better be witty as hell or have some fabulous appetizers laid out, because the time for the wine to breathe was before I got there. There's a woman in my life who's smart enough to mix the drinks ahead of time and I adore her for it. There's a man in my life who does love the cocktail mixing and all of its accoutrements...but he's proven he's worth waiting for. But for the rest of it, the pomegranate-green apple-kahlua-sex-on-a-fuzzy navel, stuff. Blech. Rum, rocks. Single Malt, dash of water. Beer, take off the cap.
Sports. Rather do it than watch it. Period. If I played it, I can watch it for a little while. But since my sports were swimming, field hockey, badminton, three-day eventing and polo...there's not a lot of that going on from a televised spectator sport point of view. Soccer I can barely tolerate -- mostly because it's only 90 minutes long. Everything else, my eyes glaze, my mind wanders and I'm wondering where I left my library book.
Don't get me wrong, none of this makes me feel superior -- instead I feel a bit odd. Like I opened up my brain, looked for the port that was labelled "candy" or "football" and thought hmmmm, I guess my brain didn't come with that option. Why the hell would you load a brain with a "Peeps" port and not "Sports"? Damn, does nothing come standard anymore?