3) When I get cold, I get a chill. Not just a normal, everyday chill, but a psychotic chill that makes it look like I'm having a seizure. My arms might fly up. It's not pretty. I look like a freak. It's most likely Terret's syndrome, who knows. I probably have some massive nerve damage somewhere that's causing my chills, but whatever. If you're around me and I get one of my chills, don't ask me what happened. Nothing to see here. Just keep walking.4) I get really bad headaches. A lot. I've usually got one at least every day, but it's not usually that severe. I'm used to the daily ones and can manage them fairly well. When you need to worry is when I get a migraine and want to cut off my head. Then you should steer because all I want to do is hide in a dark cave until the pain subsides. I'm a beast. Stay away.
5) I'm sarcastic. A lot. Probably way more than I should be. I don't know why; I just am. Of course, this gets me into trouble on a regular basis because people don't always know how to take me. Usually I'm joking, but apparently that's not always apparent. Trust this, though: I'm a fairly outspoken person - if I'm mad at you, you'll know it. I'll either tell you, or ignore you. However, if I'm joking with you or being sarcastic, we're all good. Stop being so sensitive, you big baby.
Friday, November 4, 2011
The More You Know....
Last night while I was hanging with my friend Shaunie (one of my Sundance boys), several things happened in the course of our time together: 1) He "playfully" punched me in my scarm (the special name I have for my scar arm) and 2) I got cold. Really cold. Which means, I got my chill. Now, had he hung out with me on a regular basis, I wouldn't have to explain these things, but the fact is that we don't hang out very much. In fact, anyone who doesn't see me regularly might not know the following things:
1) I hate being punched, hit, and slapped, even in jest. I don't care if it's playful. It's not fun to me. Ever. It sucks. I especially hate being touched or hit on my left arm (or "scarm") because it went through the passenger side window of my car when I rolled down a hill a million years ago and, in addition to my oh-so-lovely scar, there's still got glass in it. So, yeah. It hurts. Just leave it alone and we'll get along fine.
2) I'm quite possibly the pickiest person in the world when it comes to food. There are way more things I won't eat than I will. I hate ketchup, onions, fish, Miracle Whip, and mustard just to name a few. No, I don't want to try something new. It won't change my mind. If it's boring and bland (and either loaded with cheese or a bloody rare steak), mark me down for a yes. Otherwise, buzz off.
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