That caught your attention, didn’t it? Mine, too.
I thought this would be a high-lair-ree-us topic for a blog. Until I realized that I’m a prim and proper girl. You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Then, I thought, I’ll ask Guitar Boy (aka hubby). Surely, he knows the disgusting side of me. You can’t be married for long without revealing your true nature. Surely he would give me a list of any number of suitable anecdotes to share.
He walked into my office just as I decided I needed him (he’s handy like that). Seriously. I am not making this up. I think, “I need Guitar Boy” and ::poof:: there he is. This is an amazing talent and I have yet to figure out how he does it.
“What disgusting things have I done?” I asked in a very upbeat voice so that he’d know it was no trap.
“Nothing.” The reply was too quick and too polished. He was avoiding the trap yawning in front of him. Clever, clever boy.
“No. No, honey. I’m serious. This will not get you in trouble. What disgusting things have I done?”
“Nothing I can think of. Can I go now? Oh, wait. The fact that the acid in your fingers literally eats the letters off keyboards, eats through the plastic keys and also burns through guitar strings faster than is humanly possible is…well, not disgusting, but it is just plain wrong. You’re a freak, but not in a disgusting way.”
That makes me feel tons better. At least I’m not a disgusting freak. Still, this put me back to square one—trying to come up with a high-lair-ree-us story about being disgusting. Or even a disgusting story about being disgusting. I figured this would be character building. This would be me, revealing a bit of myself to the world as a break from my business-like, propeller-head image. Putting it all out there…so to speak.
Instead, this is me recognizing that I don’t like to touch, eat, play with, or keep disgusting things. I left this blog up on my screen and went to exercise. I decided that a little blood to the brain should help me remember. No. I apparently am the prissy girl that everyone hated in grade school. But I have managed to come up with a few things.
I am afraid everyone here will have much better lists. Here is mine, and I only have them because my evil family made me go to our cabin on the White River when I was in school:
1 Frog gigging (did not go well)
2 A weird game of “touch the dead pig laying by the shore.” There were rules and points.
3 Fished around the bottom of a seriously nasty bog/smelly swamp for my eyeglasses.
I cannot put an entire package of crackers in my mouth and burp the alphabet (my sister). I cannot dislocate anything for the amusement of others. I am “that girl.” The one with the slightly wide eyes and the frozen smile when others are doing disgusting things and I can’t think of why it’s funny or fun. ::sigh:: I bet you guys have done high-lair-ree-us-ly disgusting things as youngsters or oldsters, right? Or are there some prissy girls like me out there? Do we have Neanderthal Guys following the blog or are you guys civilized?
The LEAST disgusting thing I’ve done lately is publishing the newest in the fab Parker Blue series. (cover above) The book just came out in the last week.