Confessions of a Weirdo

Who the fuck eats the green Mike and Ikes? Or the green lifesavers? Why do they even make that flavor? Or, is the question really: Who still eats this tooth-rotting shit? This is where my hand shoots up from the back of the class, and you all look at me in either disgust or admiration for admitting a gross habit. Unfortunately for my thighs and ass, I do love candy, just not the green ones. I like all the candies that make you say, “Is that even food?” I love Now & Laters; Bottle Caps; Spree; Bullseyes (caramel creams); and Circus Peanuts (orange, peanut-shaped, marshmallow-like). I think in the meats department, that’s akin to liking Spam. My parents ate Peanut M&Ms, Snickers, Charleston Chews and Reese’s, so I know it’s not a hereditary disorder. 

I like all the candies that make you say, “Is that even food?”

I also like really bad TV shows. Ray worries about me, when he walks in and finds me watching some documentary on teenage abduction; hoarding; women with the biggest hips in the world; kids born with no brains and men who date blowup dolls. I don’t really think I’m the audience they are targeting, because I have a college education. I’m so glad I can help their ratings, though.

Now, let’s move on to my obsession with gadgets. I have a mini ice pick in my freezer to separate the ice when it clumps together. I wish I could explain why it’s satisfying to make that stabbing motion from the shower scene in Psycho and watch the cubes break apart. I use a sheepskin shoulder pad on my seat belt strap to stop the chafing on my neck, which made me paranoid that my kids thought Ray had given me hickies. I have a zoom lens I hook right onto my iPhone that makes me look like the total loser that I am. I even have a boot-remover device that I bought at a western store. You stand on the back of it with your opposite foot, as you put the heel of your boot in the front of it and pull out your foot—no bending over or struggling required. It doesn’t discriminate: It works on fuck-me boots as well as cowboy boots. And, you know those metal zig-zag taco holders that restaurants use? That’s all I’m ‘gonna say. 

Does this make me anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive or attention-seeking? I really don’t think so. Let’s just say I’m a little strange, or how about interesting or unique, since that sounds better? I tried to bring Ray into the fold a little bit, when I bought him one of those electric shoe cleaners they have at golf clubs, you know where you press the button and the black and red nylon brushes rotate around as you put your foot underneath. He was polite and thanked me, but it’s still in the box in his storage closet.

One more thing—I know I mentioned only sugar candies above. Please don’t take that to mean I don’t like chocolate. Unfortunately I did inherit my parents’ chocolate gluttony. If you put a bag of Hershey’s kisses near me, I can assure you I don’t need a wand to make them disappear.

I dedicate this blog to Amazon, who enables my strange buying habits. When you don’t have to leave your house to buy a 1950s retro candy box or a pickle grabber tool, it’s pure bliss. How great it is to live in the United States of Amazon. 

*All names have been changed.

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This entry was posted in confessions, errands, idiosyncracies, pet peeves, shame and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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