Not exactly a phobia, but...
Eating in the dark - I just can't. I mean, there could be just anything in there and I would bite into it completely unawares. This is not assisted by Mrs Greencloud who dislikes bright light 'a-la Gremlins.'

I can only just bear it if I've prepared the food myslef in the properly illuminated kitchen, and therefore know that nothing untoward is contained therein.

The cause may be my biting into a cheese pasty (pastie?) and observing a green lump therein. I no longer eat bakery food.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 14:34, Reply)

Telephone conversations fill me with dread
Which is a bit of a bugger because speaking to 'people' on the phone forms a small but integral part of my job.

It depends on the circumstances - friends and family are usually OK, but when it comes to talking to a complete stranger, the thought of having a conversation with a disembodied voice just fucks with my head sometimes. I have on occassion found myself getting quite flustered because I can't get a gauge on what they are thinking or how they are reacting. I much prefer talking to someone in the flesh, so I can read their facial expressions / body language.

Curiously I don't have a problem with conversing by email, probably because I'm in less danger of coming across as some tongue-tied, inarticulate fuckwit.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 14:25, 8 replies)

Another! Now rats!
Oh, yes, I had forgotten!

When I was a kid it was commonly believed as the truth amongst the girls in my school that rats could eat your ear during your sleep and you wouldn't notice until the morning, when you see yourself in the mirror, bleeding and without ear.

The idea was that these rats would blow in your ear, keeping it cold and making it insensitive.

I believed it for a long, long time. I still have my problems to sleep if I think there might be rats around.
(Aberracion Life's getting very complicated, but a lot of fun., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 14:10, 4 replies)

i cannot sleep
with my feet or any other bit of me hanging off the edge of the bed. i am always convinced that something is going to grab whatever it is and bite it off.

spiders, moths, daddy long legs, ants (not singular but a whole long line of them creeps the fuck out of me), cockroaches, beetles, in general anything with more than 4 legs. and clowns.

balloons bursting. which was great when i tried to be cultured recently at the royal albert hall and they released about 5,000 balloons at the end - i was jumping like a flea on a cat on a hot tin roof. although i was also pissed.

as i've ranted before, other people's saliva on, in, near, around or within 5 miles of my food. or toothbrush. or face. i spent thu night talking to a very nice and good looking lawyer, but my god i just wanted to tear my lips off my face and scrub dry them on the carpet by the time he'd finished spraying me with every sentence. or his lips, which might have been a more permanent solution. ugh and i couldn't wipe my eyes/face/lips/neck/boobs because it would have looked rude... i'm rocking just thinking about it... if we're shagging, great, you can pump as much of any bodily fluid wherever and whenever turns you on the most, but can anyone else please leave them in their own bodies and not squirted over my face, thank you very much.

leftovers or people sharing food. this is connected to above. as happens so often, i watched a couple yesterday lunchtime eat half their own main courses and SWOP. wtf? if you want two meals, order two meals. then go to the gym. i couldn't eat my own lunch after that.

when i was little, strange showers used to terrify me, like the ones in the ladies changing rooms at the squash club, which were dark, dank and mouldy. ditto huge pipes. god knows what could come out of them. these days though i'd be more frightened of people who don't use them.

jellyfish. one minute you're swimming in the caribbean or similar, the next it feels as if a long strand of rusty barbed wire has whipped around your feet.

hmmmm i am beginning to scare myself now.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 14:00, 5 replies)

Have to agree with the wasps
Pure stinging evil, with wings.

They are usually the size of an Alsatian (dog, not a border-hopping Frenchman - that would just be ridiculous quite frankly) and like nothing better than waiting for me to relax on a fine summer's day (and I live in Austria - we have plenty of those) before unleashing hell on me.

They are insect terrorists.

They once forced me to abandon my son in his pram because I had to run away screaming. My bemused wife was there fortunately, and I was later able to reassure her of my child-raising skills by explaining that I was trying to draw the killer beasties (yes, plural, because there were definitely more hiding somewhere nearby - waiting to sting me in the eyes, crawl in my ears... ugh) away from my precious baby. I think my wife was secretly impressed by my manly heroic behaviour, definitely not disgusted by the sight of a grown man screaming like a boy-band groupie whilst running away and doing the funky chicken simultaneously.

I have slowly got better now. I once managed to shoo one away calmly, and I've even progressed to killing the odd one now. Though I live in fear of the inevitable retaliation from the yellow/black devil's mates.



And as for Hornets.... *faints
(dahogga is exiting stage left, pursued by a bear, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:58, 2 replies)

b3ta cured me!
Like Sonic James Doom (see his post further down), I used to hate the idea of anyone hearing me go to the loo. Splashes, farts, rustling of loo paper...anything that could be heard outside of the safety of my cubicle was A Bad Thing.

If I was sitting on the loo and heard someone else come in, I would stop mid-flow (my pelvic floor muscles are second to none!) until they went away again. I'd freeze, sitting there in absolute silence, trying not to breathe too loudly. If I'd started pooing, and someone came in, I'd try to stop it. Sometimes, a bit of poo would fall into the water with an audible "plop" (made louder by the absolute absence of any other sound from me), and I would be absolutely mortified. This went on for years, and could be quite annoying, especially in public loos, or loos where I knew there to be a queue outside.

Then I found b3ta.

It was the "toilet stories" and "shit stories" QOTWs, however, that helped me to get over this. B3ta made me realise that bodily functions should be celebrated, not supressed! We should be proud of our ability to do poos shaped like cocks, pee for over one minute without stopping, or fart the national anthem! B3ta made me realise my true love for all scatalogical humour, and now when I go to the loo (at work, naturally), I choose the most accoustically-enabled cubicle, and wait for a build-up of gas, until I let it all out in one long, rasping aria of farty joy, grinning all the while.* I award myself extra little points if someone else is in the bathroom at the time, or if I can hear giggling coming from the men's loo next door.

I still don't fart or burp in front of my boyfriend though. That would be unladylike.



*This is why I found myself grinning like an absolute mong when I was in Phnom Penh with food poisoning: www.b3ta.com/questions/shitstories2/post135111
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:57, 10 replies)

Have you Seen the film "the day after tomorrow"?
That kind of stuff leaves me shaking with fear.

The sheer fact that there's a producer out there who thinks it's releasable is bad enough, but the storyline and physical impossibilities of some of the scenarios in it is just amazing.

Shoddy movies... They suck my will to live.

I should set the Wombles on them.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:56, 15 replies)

CO2
I can't sleep if all the doors and windows are shut. I know that it's stupid, but you see, I start thinking that I'm going to suffocate during the night with my own CO2 and can't sleep. No way.

I have more. I'm a coward. I can't stand someone coming next to me saying "Braaaains" or even worst "Cereeeebro". I hate it. If you try with me, I'll probably kick you!
(Aberracion Life's getting very complicated, but a lot of fun., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:50, Reply)

I absolutely hate seeing Paramedics walking about
I've been in hospital too many times that it just brings back some really horrid memories. I appreciate what they are doing of course, but their presense just suggests that something is wrong with someone, not nice :(

Last year some emergency 4x4 ambulance was parked up in the carpark just outside my house, waking up and seeing that there just got my back up every time.

As for hospitals...
( Firkinfedup last shat on your wife's tits at, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:48, 3 replies)

Walls Feasts...
..can't explain it, but when I was a kid, the thought of those lollies used to give me the fear. Even when the ads were on TV (usually often over summer) I'd have to look away so I didn't catch a glimpse of them.

Fine now though. Must have repressed something in the interim.
(mcnelson, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:47, 1 reply)

PARENTS PAY ATTENTION!
My own phobia is being cleaned with someone else's spittle. I'm sure I'm not the only one. Remember when you were a kid and your Mum would moisten a tissue with her own spit and wipe your eyes/mouth/face. It's gross and it still gives me the shivers now when I see it being done. I clearly remember the warm dampness, the coarse tissue and the smell of spit and lipstick as it cleaned a smudge of dirt off my face or a smear of chocolate from the corner of my mouth :0( Do not do this to your kids, it's foul!

Needles is the other, quite boring generally. But bearing in mind I have to inject myself in the stomach before I take a flight anywhere, it's not the best phobia to have.
(Big Smurf Brush me daddy-O, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:46, Reply)

I am terrified
of anaesthetic. I would rather watch my body being sliced open under local than not have any awareness of what was happening to me.

I also have a childhood fear that someone is going to be hiding under the bed/ sofa and will slice through my achilles tendons as soon as i put my feet on the floor, leaving them to approach menacingly as I crawl across the floor, broken feet dragging behind me.
I saw Hostel recently, that didn't help.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:22, 3 replies)

Lava on the floor.
All my odd phobias are coming back to me today.

This one only started once I saw the film 'Volcano'.

When I am alone in the house I live in constant fear of lava creeping along the floor and incinerating me from the feet up, like that bloke who jumped off the train and got melted.

It's so bad that I often have to have my feet off the floor.

Of course the fact that, should lava ACTUALLY come into my house, a settee would last about 2 seconds before disintegrating, doesn't bother me.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:16, Reply)

Cotton wool

I can't stand it. I'm not frightened of it, but I can't bear to touch it - it's like chalk on a blackboard to me. It's so dry it seems to almost squeak when you touch it...

*shudder*
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:11, 2 replies)

Tyres..
Or more specifically blow outs. Some years ago I was overtaken by a Ford Mondeo on the M1 which had gained perhaps 50 metres on me when the front offside tyre literally disintegrated. The unfortunate repmobile slewed crazily across my path, rolling once and ended up right side up and half of the hard shoulder heading up the embankment. I wasn't hit and the driver of the other car wasn't too badly hurt. What scared me and has affected me since is that the three remaining tyres on the mondy were a good brand, in excellent condition. There had been no warning of the imminent failure and the whole event must have lasted 20 seconds from start to finish.

Since then, I have been pretty fearful of such an event happening to me despite my repeated searches on the interweb showing me the chances are vanishingly small. No waiting until I'm down to my last 1.6mm of tread for me- tyres are replaced as a set when they make it down to about 3mm at any point on any tyre. Furthermore my Focus turbo diesel (maximum speed 110mph on a good day) sits on Z rated Bridgestone Potenzas (it is probably just as well that no zz rated tyre exists at this wheel size or I'd be after those) which might politely be described as overkill and rudely described as utterly fucking pointless. Nonetheless, the tyres are rated to a much higher speed than the car can achieve which in my phobic mind equates to a greater safety margin. I will also conduct a walk 'round like a pre-flight check for any journey in any car before driving away. I have once rejected a hire care because the tyres (although legal) were below the level I would have on my own car.

I have no idea what it might take to stop me being quite so concerned about this but I guess whilst I can afford it, it comes under the heading of idiosyncratic rather than unhealthy.

I fucking hate chimpanzees as well.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:06, 7 replies)

Phobia of things touching my adams apple.
I'm not sure where this came from, but I'm terrified of anything touching the front of my neck (the area around my Adam's Apple). To the extent that I have to wear a jumper that covers my neck all the way to my chin, and when I'm in bed I need to have the covers over my neck.

I was once riding my motorbike when my jacket became unzipped, allowing the wind to hit my neck. I squealed like a little girl and had to pull over immediately.

Thing is, I'm really not sure why I'm like this - I can touch my neck no problem, but the thought of having it exposed makes my stomach turn.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:05, 1 reply)

hand/finger/nail injuries
Make me pass out if I see one.

My sister has a disabled hand and when I was three years old, I saw our Mom trying to cut her fingernails for her on this hand and she slipped and cut her very badly and it bled and bled. And I screamed and screamed as this was my poor sister's 'poorly hand'and she had injured it more. It was unbearable to me and sent me into emotional overload, now I can't cut my own fingernails - I am a confirmed filer.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 13:04, 3 replies)

Things eating me from the loo
I had a book of short stories when i was a kid. The last one in the book was a story about a babysitter and a child who was a bit of a pain. The babysitter took him around the park and places like that scaring him. One of the things she said to scare him was 'if you aren't out of the bathroom by the time the flush has stopped then a big monster will come out of the toilet and try to eat you'.

From that second on i had to run out of the toilet before the flush finished, wait for it to end then go back and wash my hands.

This was made worse by watching the film 'Ghoulies' (or something similar) where some one was actually eaten from something that came out of the toilet.

It is only since i moved away (at 21) that i found i could bear to be in the bathroom while the toilet was flushing. I am slightly more normal now :)
(The Ginger Penguin la la la la la la, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 12:58, 3 replies)

Since I joined b3ta
I have developed an irrational fear of actually doing any work.

Damn you, b3ta!

*Shakes fist*
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 12:55, 14 replies)

I get scared of...
wait for it,...

looking UP at buildings..

i know...

looking down i have trouble with, but not as much as looking up - especially if theyre really tall, and youre really close to he base.. Eugh

I took this video of looking down the interior of the Jin Mao Tower in Shanghai. Its got a hollow atrium for like 50 floors - watch this... hehehe

www.metacafe.com/watch/379569/dont_look_down/

its worth looking at
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 12:45, 4 replies)

The sound of my own heart beating
No, really.

And not just in an eww-that's-not-nice way - more of an end-up-lying-in-hospital-connected-up-to-ECG-machine-convinced-I-was-dying kind of thing.

Twice.

Along with blood tests, nearly being prescribed beta-blockers, requiring regular check-ups etc...

If someone had taken the time to explain to me (a) what a panic attack was, and (b) healthy hearts don't beat particularly regularly anyway, especially when dosed up on adrenaline, things wouldn't have been nearly so bad - and wouldn't have gone on for as long as they did.

I'm better now, honest. My panic attacks are caused by entirely different things these days...
(Happy Idiot Talk now has an alibi for, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 12:39, 2 replies)

Watership Down
This should be banned! i seriously think im not being irrational with this, the cartoon ruined my life and put me off rabbits for years... just a horrible, horrible cartoon..



*shudders*
(The Reverend annoying the regulars since, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 12:21, 8 replies)

Well...
Despite the fact that a fellow employee is a B3tan, I'm going to post this. One of my phobia, among many, is being heard shitting while in work.

I have a very Victorian attitude to such things at the best of times, but given our open plan office, there's nothing between my quaking bowels and an important meeting save for a thing bit of wooden door.

Normally, it's not an issue, just shove a load of loo roll down the pan to cushion the impact and away you go... Sometimes however this doesn't work, and you can guarantee those are the times when someone finds something particularly interesting to do just outside the toilet door.

Abnormally, there are the moments of bowel explosion, where a dangerous build up of gasses, combined with amplifying capabilities of the china bowl creates a resonanting chime that joyously lets the world know what's going on in there. That's when you just know you're going to open the door and walk back through a silent office, who've all just been treated to the sound of your erruption.

Thing is, I never need to go at home, where it's safe. It's ALWAYS in work. :(
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 12:14, 4 replies)

Hairballs
Fear of coughing up hairballs.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 11:47, 6 replies)

Probably already been mentioned...
but I am proper scared of the dentist. I cannot stand this brutal, barbaric branch of medicine that to me seems to have barely evolved beyond the 17th century. Surely in this day and age there are kinder ways of treating people's teeth.

I'd rather my head fell off than undergo serious dental work.

Rant over. I'm now feeling a little light headed and scared.
(Errorist, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 11:37, 4 replies)

Bridges and the dark
Two (and I know where they come from):
Bridges. I’m utterly terrified when crossing bridges. If it’s a footbridge, I have the urge to crawl on my hands and knees, so as to not get knocked off. Driving across them makes me break out in a sweat. The wife thinks it’s hilarious. Whenever we need to head back to Liverpool from Mancland, I always engineer a stop at a mate’s in Huyton, so I can go along the M62, rather than the M56 and have to cross the Widnes – Runcorn bridge. Which is where this phobia came from. When I was a kid, I had a recurring nightmare where I was on said Widnes – Runcorn Bridge and there was a car coming towards me, leaving me no choice but to jump off the bridge, rather than get run over. I stopped having this nightmare about 25 years ago but still shit it when I have to cross a bridge.

The dark. In very specific situations. Either getting from my car to the house or getting from my house into the car. I have a proper panic most times I have to get into my car at night (though only when it’s parked outside my house, it doesn’t bother me if it’s in the street or a carpark), I actually end up backing the car off the drive with no lights on, no seatbelt on and my wife only halfway into the car. Do you know why? Night Of The Living Dead, “they’re coming to get you Barbara”, Johnny has the keys and all that – first horror film I ever saw, when I was about 8. Love the … Of The Dead films, they scare the shite out of me and the first one has never left me.
(ScousersPet, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 11:35, Reply)

Spider Wars
It was a night in late summer, the time of year when the little bastards come crawling out of the woodwork and take over the house.

I apologise for length, but a battle this epic needs to be told properly.

I was staying at my parent's house for some reason or other, and in my old, and relatively small bedroom.

Round 1

It began when I was sitting in bed, watching the TV (situated at the foot of my bed under some shelves) just generally getting ready to go to sleep. something black and BIG runs past my ear across the wall. I leap up screaming like a 6 year old. called by my screams, dad gets rid of it.

Spider - 0
Me - large dent to my dignity so also 0

Round 2

Settled down again, TV on, wall checked, under the bed checked. Sorted.
next to the TV, something catches my eye.
its dangling in mid air, swimming towards the TV and suspended from the shelves. you guessed it, another one. Smaller, and lacking in the element of surprise, I decide that I can get ridof it on my own, I am 21 after all. Cunningly, I decide that I am unable to touch it even with tissue as it is on a web and therefore in danger of falling onto the table below. next best thing, a can of impullse body spray. this stuff makes me cough, spider would be gassed and gone in a second. it would fall, but it would be dead!
10 second sustained spraying sends the spider plummeting, stiffly to the floor where, unfortunately I am unable tofind it. but at least its a dead spider and I can find it in the morning. its getting on to 1am at this point, and I really should sleep.

Spider - 0
Me - 1

Round 3

Turned off the light, feeling a little gassed myself from the spraying. the hairs on the back of my neck prick up. I turn on the light. there's another one of the little buggers on the ceiling. its at the opposite end of the room and I'm already weary from batle, so I decide that I will turn off the light and it can do what it likes and I will believe that it has gone. I'm 21, I can do mind over matter.

I can't do it

the light comes back on. but I can't find it, its not in the same corner! its in another corner, over where my TV is, at the foot of the bed, and its brought a friend. they sit, perfectly still facing me before one runs towards the head-corner of my room. when I say rin, I mean these buggers have probably been living in my room for a while, me not living there and all, and they have spun a web on the ceiling between all the little bumps in our very 90's plaster. so its half-running, half nearly falling, then the other one comes to join it and they start fighting. over my bed.
very slowly I decide its time to bring out the weapon I've used since I was a child. the feather duster on a stick. I run to get it from downstairs and when I return, I am standing precariously on my bed, poised with the duster ready to dab at the spiders and run to the window. I stand there. I'm still standing there. poised, gaining my courage. after at least 20 mins of staring at the spiders. I decide to stop thinking and do it. Brain disengaged, I dab them onto the duster and shake it out the window with enough gusto to break the duster and for it to fall onto the lawn below. Adrenaline surging, i think to myself, I'll get it in the morning and its time to sleep. job well donw, 4 spiders in a night, what a mad house!

Spiders - 0
Me - 2

Round 4

Not even turned off the light this time. Spider number 2 has rematerialised and is once again spinning his web at the bottom of my bed. the duster is gone. what other spray do I have? Hairspray! at least this will coat it in plastic so it will suffocate! I spray for another 10 seconds and it takes longer to go down this time, perhaps the impulse made it stronger. but it does go down. this time I search for it. but to no avail. I couldn't find it. Deciding I'd had enough, I go back to bed.

Spiders - 1 (for re-incarnation)
Me - 1 (for not killing it first time)

Round 5 (AKA the battle finale)

its 5am at this point and I'm lying in the dark when the hairs on my neck go up again and I know what's there before I turn the light on. I audibly whisper, "you have got to be kidding" as I turn on the light and see 2 more on the ceilling and my little webby friend back to spinning his web. my weapon is on the grass outside who knows if it is full of spiders still or not. I can't go to get it. aerosols don't seem to do anything to these fuckers so what's left?

I got angry

toilet roll in hand I stood on the bed again and crushed bastard number one in the paper. before running the the door and throwing the paper into the landing. bastard number 2 goes in the same way. Webby bastard gets a bit of respect for being so persistant but eventually gets smushed in a tissue and thrown out the door along with his web. by this stage I've already closed the window and put my dressing gown by the crease under the door so they can't get in.

I sleep, safe in my victory and no more spiders came back.

Although I won the battle, I can't help but think that the spiders wer the real victors. I didn't sleep at all that night, broke a feather duster, and lost a substantial chunk of dignity. I believe that I won the battle. but the little monsters win the war.

I also had to explain to my family in the morning why the shards of a feather duster were in the lawn and a load of tissues weer on the landing. they laughed. I was still shell shocked. luckily I left that day.

No Apologies for length. the story needed to be told
(Katzilla Follow Me! @Kat_Zilla (I don't promise funnehs), Mon 14 Apr 2008, 11:31, Reply)

Wasps, my father, foreigns...
Wasps: I make involuntary whimpering noises and try to escape. They buzz around my horrified, gurning face and I inevitably slap my own head in a vain attempt to make. them. go. away.

Father: makes eating noises that cause me to want to hit him with a pitchfork.

Foreign people: emit loud noises, and dress inexplicably. Make too much eye contact on the tube, get in my way. They make me do angry, shouty things, then I panic and worry that I'll get caught.
(mingping, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 11:26, 1 reply)