crazy me!

I get very involved with being me. It's just so .... exhausting and complicated. There are so many idiosyncrasies that make me the habitual, obsessive, neurotic and negative creature that I am. While a funeral could send me into a laughing fit, the most insignificant occurrence will reduce me to tears. I don't get it. Here are more example of things that even I don't get about myself.

Small things. I don't get this at all, but I have a strong penchant for small (miniature) things. Keep your phallic jokes to yourself. Doll houses, miniature play houses, complete with kitchens and tiny cafe curtains will make me foam at the mouth. Travel size toiletries....oh, I could spend hours looking at them, holding them. As 1953 as this sounds, I could lose myself in an old classic dollhouse, with doll furniture and teeny rugs and itsy bitsy cans in the cupboards. Oh, don't EVEN get me started on Recreational Vehicles. Anyone who knows me for more than 10 minutes, knows that I'm cuckoo about RV's. I'll go to the shows, I'll browse each and every RV. I'll imagine where my belongings would fit into each teeny tiny space. I'd give it all up to live in an RV, I swear. The swivel captains chairs and the make-shift dining room table alone are enough to put me into cardiac arrest. That's all I'll say about this issue.

Shamu. Killer whale, Orka, whatever you want to call it....but immediately upon her big entrance, I'll start bawling so fast, your head will spin. I don't know why there's a direct correlation between the mammal and my tear ducts. This, I cannot explain. I've also been known to cry when my 6 year old hammers out Metallica's 'One' on Guitar Heroes too. Don't judge.

Planning my own funeral. This has been going on for years. The obsession with my own death. I'm willing to bet that experts would call this narcissistic. Maybe. But, it IS my funeral. Why shouldn't it be all about me? I've got the venue, the music, the caterer, the photo slide show, my outfit, my eulogies and my head stone all perfectly detailed in this big ol' head of mine. I've only just begun telling my husband some of these details...what, with being 35 and all. It could be touch and go for sometime yet. Can't be too prepared, I always say.

There are a few things in life that simply embarrass me. Take driving for example. Not how I do it, but the act itself. Whenever I pull up next to someone in my car, like if I'm meeting them or something, I feel incredibly masculine. And masculinity makes me very, very uncomfortable. I drive a typical SUV. But, in my head, it may as well be an 18 wheeler. That's what I feel like when I'm driving in other people's presence. Isn't that silly?

When I was younger, I wouldn't eat in public. True that. Lunch in the school cafeteria was my most dreaded part of the day. Standing there, either waiting for food, or sitting at a table eating out of a bag made me so anxious that I simply never ate. I'd go visit my boyfriend at his college and I'd go for several days....wouldn't eat a morsel the entire time. Yeah, I was a real hoot by the 2nd day. I didn't have an eating disorder, or anything like that, I just felt that eating should be done in private. To this day, I still refuse to eat at a buffet. It still mortifies me to stand somewhere, shoveling food onto my plate.

My knees go weak whenever someone talks about their....(cycle). I am horrified for them. Trust me, I have A LOT of girlfriends and it comes up way too often. I'll just look away and ignore them....anything just shy of putting my fingers in my ears and humming. Believe me, I was this close to banning my husband at the birth of his children. I was disgusted at myself...and it was MY BABY! Girly parts embarrass me. I told you....complicated and exhausting!

On that, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!