Identify 30 things that make me weird/unusual

Nothing makes me happier than a foggy, drizzly, over-cast day. I am a very pale, Irish girl, and the sun and I do not get along. Granted, I do live in California, but at least I am in the foggiest, most “miserable” part of it (Pacific Grove), where we don’t have more than 2 weeks of sunshine all year, and it is usually in September. Long Live the Grey Sky!

It’s called the English language, and your 600 dollar piece of machinery shouldn’t give you the right to butcher it. Without effective communication, we are no better than animals, and as an English major, I actually take offense to people using nonsensical abbreviations in their messages to me. It is nothing more than pure laziness. I am not a 10 year old, nor am I an idiot, and this is not a secret code, so please stop replacing syllables with numbers and completely eradicating vowels all together. And remember kids, the next time you “txt ur peeps”, you’re making yourself look like a fool.

There is something wonderful about hunting for treasure amongst piles of junk. I feel like a cotton archaeologist! A kitchenware-tologist! Slowly collaborating, peice by peice, a fabulous collection of vintage and victorian nicknacks, funky clothes, and elaborate jewelery. There is a kind of a rush in it for me, finding something fabulous amongst someone’s rubbish, and it is all the better when it costs next to nothing. Plus, there are about a billion reasons to feel good about doing it. Most of the thrift stores in the world give all of their profits to charity, they employ the underprivlidged or people needing to perform community service, yard sales help people declutter their homes and make a little extra cash for that dream vacation or college fund, or whatever have you, and you are recycling and helping the planet by not consuming other resources. FUCK YEAH!

Even before I became a marine, I had a weird obsession with gas masks. I have about 30 right now from every era and a variety of different countries. I even have a giant one tattooed on the back of my leg. I find them fascinating, and a symbol of a terrified subculture in a pure and innocent time, living under the threat of a nuclear or chemical holocaust. A lot of things have started to embract this, like the fallout game series and various films, but I can honestly say that I was a freak before they came out. I have been collecting for several years. I think they are beautiful.

I know, it isn’t fashionable to not spend 6 dollars to get my starbucks fix every morning…. but that stuff tastes like DEATH. If you need half a cup of cream and sugar to make it taste good, don’t put it in your body. To me, there is nothing more pathetic than someone who claims that they can’t even FOCUS without a couple cups of joe. Crack heads can’t focus without crack, but that is no excuse for them, so why is it acceptable for coffee junkies? There are a lot of things I don’t like about it, from the slave labor it take to produce it to the long line you wait in to get it, to the massive caffiene surge that throws your body out of whack, to the high rate of addiction and high price. But I am willing to put all of those things aside for something that is amazing (like chocolate, for example), but it just tastes like ass crack.

I love the smell of exhaust. My father built and restored classic American muscle cars for my entire life. I have an ingrained sense of pride in my vehicle and a huge respect for the amount of power and enginuity that each of them has, and I need to burn enough fuel to get that engine ROARING. I need a car that can perform. I need a loud muffler that you can hear 5 blocks away. I need a V8 with so much torque that it will twist a chasis if you don’t watch it. I need to chirp tires in 2nd gear. I need a car that is made of metal and will survive hitting a brick wall at 100 mph. I have NEVER in my life owned a car or truck that got more than 20 miles to the gallon, and I am fucking proud of that. I would rather die than drive a hybrid. Hippies; eat a dick.

Actually, that is an understatement. I DESPISE THEM, filthy little dirtballs that they are. I don’t even like babies… I have absolutely no desire to have children. All of my friends that have children are stuck in their pathetic little lives, never really living, never doing what they wanted to with their lives, and perpetually broke and/or depressed. NO travel, no upper level college (online schools are a fucking joke), and NO CAREER. Most of them are trapped in shitty relationships with the fathers of these children as well, somehow thinking that exposing the children to their misery is really “better for the kids”. Dumbest thing I have ever heard. Also, I know you think it is rewarding to have children, but to me it is just narcisism. It looks like a mini you and is doing cute things (like drooling on itself or defecating, because that it all they do), so you swoon. But here is a news flash. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR KIDS BUT YOU. Everyone else is just listening to your story because they are trying to be agreeable.

That’s right ladies, I am a freak of nature. I have never met one single other woman in the world that ACTUALLY enjoys the taste of beer (not light beer, but beautiful, full calorie, malty, fattening, delicious heavy beer). And I don’t mean I order a guinness or newcastle at a bar and choke it down to impress some dildo, I mean I buy a case or two at the grocery store and enjoy one after work, in the bath tub, or while doing laundry… any excuse is a good one when the reward is beer! So there you have it. Frothy, bitter, delicious beer, YUM!

I know that it is a rare genetic mutation in that the melanin pigment didn’t develop equally in my eyes, and it is very rare in people. One of my eyes is green, and the other is brown… and I think it’s awesome. Fuck wearing contacts, I am proud of the way that I am.