Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Issues with Tissues

We all have our idiosyncrasies, those little characteristics and habits that are particular to our day-to-day lives, some good and some bad. I consider myself to be quite idiosyncratic, aside from your usual page three fear of heights, clowns, spiders and whatever else, I am quite picky in the activities I involve myself in and how I do them.

Tissue Phobia
I know myself that this belongs in first – I avoid tissues, always have. It isn’t a germ thing, clean tissues bother me too. It’s that soft, flaccid ply of paper that can be torn apart, soaked and fused together into a ball; describing it to you right now is even making me a little ill. It’s been a prominent issue since before I can remember. At the behest of this phobia, I am forced to make use of hankies, as it is my only option. It’s not only restricted to tissues either; when I was younger I would often eat at Red Rooster, and there would be those little wet towelettes and they would similarly make me want to be sick; what a disgusting invention. Serviettes are fine as long as they remain dry, that goes the same for paper.

Public Pools and Beaches
Public pools is another big one – I don’t take public pools very well. I don’t know about you, but I don’t enjoy swimming in water that hasn’t been changed in months which is the home to thousands upon thousands of other people’s filth, fuck that! If I wanted to unintentionally swallow a mouthful of somebody else’s piss and step on used bandaids, I’d go stick a used needle in my arm. School was the worst with forcing me into a pool, I am a fine swimmer but if the pool isn’t in someone’s backyard or in a complex of units or hotel rooms, you most likely won’t find me in it.

Going to the beach isn’t such a big deal. I love going to the beach with mates, and to me, nothing beats sitting on the sand and watching the waves crash. What I have always had an issue with, however, are those beaches that have moored boats just behind the waves, most likely leaking out oil and other chemicals, or some old sewerage (most likely no longer running I will add) pipe running into the surf (one of our Sydney beaches have this), like I said I can think of other fun and colourful ways to get diseases.

Can I have a sip of that?
Ah, no. It’s called meningococcal, and it sounds awesome and all but it doesn’t appeal to me, so I try my hardest not to share drinks.

Twenty-Minute Late Rule
It would seem that I have befriended every chronically-tardy person in Sydney, and for that, I came up with the twenty-minute rule. Only applied to those that I deem notoriously late, the rule is simple: If our meeting place is a place other than my home, if the person has not communicated to me that they would be late and if they have not shown up within twenty minutes of the time that we were meant to meet, I leave and consider myself ditched, no questions asked. At times I have broken the rule and called them on the twenty minute mark and then ended up staying, but for a select few I haven’t been so generous.

Boxers and Briefs…together
Yerp, I wear both…together. Well, I am slowly phasing out this unnecessary habit and am making good use of trunks, but for years now I had always worn both. The way I saw it was, the briefs would offer me the support and protection I required and the boxers would allow me to comfortably wear my clothes over my underwear. I know it’s strange and to be truthful, I can’t really justify it.

I am a guy that loves his cereal. I can have it no matter what time it is (like Jerry Seinfeld). I also find it boring just eating one cereal at a time; I usually mix every cereal that I can find in the pantry. My standard bowl contains Weet-Bix, Nutri-Grain, Honey and one or two bananas, but it varies at times. Although sometimes I eat my cereal cold in the summer, I have always found that the intricacies of my cereal bowl in the morning are better enjoyed hot (and not just the milk; everything), especially in, but not restricted to, the winter. I guess I got the idea from porridge, but pin pointing a definite reason or even the age in which I began microwaving my cereal would be difficult.

Fear of Cows
Just kidding. This is my mother’s doing - I am a soy drinker, but I am in no way lactose intolerant. My only intolerance with dairy is the way that it causes me to have minor cold symptoms, and I suspect it has been the culprit behind some of my flus, so as long as I have thirty cents more in my wallet, I can easily avoid it.

Peas and my fake disease
My gosh, I have an ill-loathing for peas. Tissues and dirty beach pipes may only be enough for me to dry-reach but peas have actually been successful in being spat out with the rest of the meals I’d eaten that day. I am not a foodie like some are, but personally when I am eating texture can sometimes become a more distinctive trademark than taste is in some cases, and this solidly applies to my hate for peas. That little squishy burst of whatever the hell it is in my mouth, I can’t stand it, its torture. Love corn; hate peas.

Problem with this is, I also like my fried rice, and what does fried rice commonly have in it? Peas! Usually I have no trouble with asking for fried rice without them, plus it usually means that they will make a specialty batch for me which improves the dish, but on the odd occasion that I get refused (which has happened!), I have been lost-for-words mid-argument; this is where my fake legume disease was born. Even though I know that legume diseases only in normal cases extend as far as peanuts, but what I do know, however, is that if I were to be in their position, I wouldn’t want to be arguing with someone that claims to have a disease, I mean, the cost of making a new batch of fried rice is considerably less than a loss of business and a discrimination lawsuit if you ask me.

Right, right, right
When telling long stories, I am often told that I say ‘right’ a lot at the end of a sentence, for example, ‘So I just said whatever and got into the car, right?, right? It’s a bad habit, and I think that I do it just to make sure that you are still following.

Food of the sea and boneless meat
I am what you might call a poultrarian. Basically, I have never eaten seafood and now as a result, if the meat didn’t breathe air, then I don’t eat it; once again, my parent’s fault, not that they don’t love their seafood. I also prefer to eat meats that don’t have bones in them, but it’s simply just an ease-of-eating thing so it isn’t a big deal.

Fear of Heights
Any need to explain? Looking out the window of a plane has never bothered me and I do one day want to skydive but when it comes to looking down that little gap at the centre of stairwells or looking straight up at skyscrapers, I get a bit tense and a little dizzy.



  1. haha i love this, for some reason these sort of little things have always stood out to me about you. It makes you fascinating and just a tad crazy :P

  2. Yeah I dont like meat with bones still attached, mostly coz I feel ripped off and get way less meat than if those bones werent there. Which is why i usually never eat drumsticks. oh oh andddd i cant eat gristle/fat on meat it grosses me out..usually dont eat chiken skin either it looks too greasy

  3. mmm Chicken Drum sticks. Dark, juicy meat on a handy, easy to gnaw on, bone.

  4. i can't say i understand the fear of tissues and the loathing of peas, ryan, but to each their own, right?

    speaking of 'right' - i have the same habit, except with 'yeah'. haha.

  5. I see why these,maybe fears of yours.
    But pee's Ryan, pea'sss. Oh come on.