First post!
Wasps and bees. Its an all encompassing fear. I can't be in the same room as one, and will run, screaming, arms flailing should one fly within ten yards of me. I can't kill them either, since then I'd have to get closer to them and they might get me! -i've never been stung either, yet they inspire the kind of panic where you're hard starts palpatating, your palms are sweaty, you shake uncontrollably.

Thats the normal one. The one people don't really react to.

I'm also terrified of swings. The ones you get in play parks. Not so bad now, but as a child i couldn't even look at them without getting sick.
And scary films. Cant watch em. Again, if one is on I'll have to leave the room. And not even very scary ones. Any film might make me jump makes me pretty uncomfortable, in a hiding behind the sofa kind of way. I'm afraid that somehow the baddies will come out of the tv and get me...
(weekirst23 Is broken! Silly ice. Silly High heels!, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:48, Reply)

I have spent years trying to deal with my fear of chiahuahuas
... So, I have found a way to involve them in my life in a situation that I'm comfortable with.

Chihuahua Science.

1. I experimented to see if my Chihuahua floats, I found that it does.
While reading up on the subject of density, It came to my attention that the density of fluids is inversely proportional to the temperature of the liquid.
Punt (the dog's name) was only able to keep his head above the cold water, and quite frankly seemed to struggle a bit.
I contended that using boiling water (less dense you see) will make it harder for him to swim.
The experiment failed.

2. Again I'd been in the Science books doing some "book-learnin'"
I discovered that things get warm if you agitate their molecules: the very principle behind a microwave oven.
On a larger scale, The energy held in a moving object - when colliding with a target - Creates heat within the target itself.
My Chihuahua was cold. How many stones would I have to throw at it to warm it up?
The experiment failed.
Conclusion: use smaller rocks.

3. Having Experimented with the buoyancy of my Chihuahua in liquids hot and cold, and having tried to warm it up by bombarding it with object .... I decided to resort to modern technology to warm the poor thing up again.
The experiment failed.
It took ages to clean the microwave.

4. Frustration during one laboratory session lead to me kicking a Chihuahua about 13 meters, I just tried to kick a poodle to see if the "four times the weight = quarter the distance" theory.
The experiment was a partial success.
I was surprised to find that I achieved 6 meters, and broke my toe.
I concluded that I had used more force with the poodle.

5. Following the suggestions of a fellow animal lover, I used chilli sauce on a Chihuahua's nether-regions to speed it up, and thus make it more interesting. (I used to use Coleman's mustard)
However... The effect was quite startling... After a 30 minute rampage (I had to stand on a table) the dog suddenly fell asleep.
I was unable to wake him.
The experiment was a short-term success., but the "dog" remained broken.

6. I took:
2 meter length of 130mm diameter steel pipe.
One large end-cap
A small amount of gunpowder
A fuse
One Chihuahua (approx 130mm diameter with legs tucked in)

After assembling the apparatus, I lit the fuse.
The experiment was inconclusive: test subject could not be located.

**************

I feel that my fear has been conquered, but now I'm currently cooking 6 Chihuahuas to feed my family.

It's perfectly humane: they all died naturally in a series of experiments... But I have a culinary question.

I've seen people remove the skins from peppers by flaming them a little with a small blow-torch. Can I use the same technique on the Chihuahuas if I use a bigger blowtorch?
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:40, 16 replies)

SPIDERS!
There I was, living in the states with my new wife, doing a bit of the domestic chores, while she was at college.
I saw at the doorway to our bedroom a large spider, about three feet above it, an open window, I froze, looking at it, sitting there, little bits of grass stuck to it's back. Clearly this demon had come in from the garden.
I backed away, contemplating my next move and whether or not he'd be wise to it. I collected a plastic cup from the kitchen and slowly crept up, sweat pouring, heart racing, in my best indiana jones from raiders impersonation I struck, covering the spider with the cup, before retreating quickly, filled with a sense of pride and bravery.

About 6 hours later my wife returned home, I told her of my epic struggle, locked in mortal combat with mine enemy. I informed her that after my brave capture of the beast, she could dispose of it, safe in the knowledge that the hard part was done.
Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, she knew something I did not and dutifully went to destroy the creature....So I thought. the next few seconds are a blur, but I was running, hard and fast around the coffee table, pursued by a woman with mischief in her eyes and a huge freaking spider in her hand, laughing like only a maniac can.
After a few minutes of this, with me convinced that soon I would be dead, she fessed up.

It was plastic. It belonged to our daughter.
It was the grass on it and it's proximity by the window that lead me to add 2 and 2 and come up with death.

I'm yet to live this day down.
(The Cosmic Fool Became aware that the bird is indeed the word on, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:35, Reply)

I forgot about this one.
As a very small Maladicta in a very secure, well-maintained house, I was still terrified we were going to get burgled in the small hours and that was why I'd only sleep with the covers over me. It still surfaces from time to time if I hear a weird noise in the house.

So imagine my horror at coming downstairs this morning to find a notice on the kitchen door saying "unfortunately there has been a burglary..." and reminding us all to keep the windows and doors closed.
( Maladicta, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:32, Reply)

I'm sure this story will be very helpful
My Uncle was cleaning his ears and left the cotton bud in when the phone rang which he duly answered, plunging the bud into his BRAIN(eardrum), I was laughing for quite some time afterwards.

EDIT This is for the suffers of cottonBudophobia
(Lukekull Fuck, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:29, Reply)

Floodgates have Failed
Following on from Mordred's post and the Wombat Steaks, I have remembered some of the wholesome goodies that used to be eaten on the farming side of the family. Note that this was the depressed Thirties, or the rationed Forties and Fifties so there wasn't a Waitrose on every corner.

Some of these were occasionally resurrected in my childhood. Gag city. Nowadays I will pretty much eat anything, in fact Extreme Cuisine is a favourite read (except grilled tarantulas and Filipino Balut) however here are some traditional British ones for your delectation. Some are lovely, some are proof that now and then starving to death is a viable lifestyle choice.

Brawn. Quivery evil jelly of doom. I still have a problem with pork pies as they contain THE JELLY.
Soused hogs face. Strangely tasty.
Trotters.
Lamb's Fry.
Sweetbreads.
Tripe (poached in milk).
Bath Chaps.
Faggots. (Food of the Gods).
Caul.
Marrow Balls.
Jugged Hare.
Chitterlings. (Chitlins to the Septics I believe)

There are more, but Google at your own risk.

They all taste better than a Big Mac, though.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:28, 4 replies)

Ok, here are a few
Heights
On there own they hold no fear for me, as I will quite happily press my nose to the window of the top floor of a skyscraper. But being at the top of a climbing wall and getting ready to descend, hoping that the cretin at the bottom doesn't drop me on my head? Now that terrifies me.
Mind you, it doesn't stop me climbing.

Getting my laptop stolen
It's a bit stupid, seeing as I have everything on it backed up, but oh how I would lament my loss.

Getting Stabbed
I don't live in the most salubrious of areas for most of the year. For example, someone in the area got into a car they thought was a taxi one night, had all their clothes stolen and then pushed out onto the pavement.
Therefore, stabbing isn't beyond the realms of possibility, and I really don't think I would find it to be an enjoyable experience.

Bert
He says he is going to visit my dreams tonight, and that truly scares me.
(PenguinOfDeath is Scottish, and most likely angry, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:11, 12 replies)

OK, not a phobia, but on the subject of unhappy food combinations
my mother used to cook a dish which was basically

- bananas
- wrapped round each banana, a slice of "plastic" (i.e. cheap and horrible) ham
- covered in cheese sauce
- baked.

Challenge - anyone's parents come up with a worse meal.

And this wasn't a one-off. Oh no. I must have eaten this tens if not hundreds of times...
( I_Was_Mordred, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 14:05, 4 replies)

Zelda from Terrahawks....
Or at least the voice.

I've just had a meeting with someone whose voice was frighteningly reminiscent of Zelda's. At least, I think that's whose voice it reminded me of - as though they're simultaneously gargling gravel & rusty water, and talking.

Hideous.
( Moey, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 13:34, 3 replies)

Pineapple on Pizza...
Ewwwww!!

I'm not sure what it is about pineapple on pizza that freaks me out as much as it does!? In my mind there is something not right about having tomato and cheese next to fruit... and not just cold fruit but heated fruit... gar my brain, it is melting!!

I understand that many, many people like pineapple on pizza but I don't... so there we go! Now that's off my chest I feel better! Hehe
(Flim-Flam the Magnificent "You is talking loco and I like it!", Wed 16 Apr 2008, 13:31, 12 replies)

Im sorry
and im sure to lots of you these are horrible feelings, and phobias of everyday objects I can just about understand (apart from scotch eggs) but some of the phobias posted here are so ludicrous you might as well have a pathalogical fear of being gang raped by Ginger Rogers, Halley's comet and a gnu.

thinks

checks

is safe for another 53 years.

edit: and yes, I am a bah humbug old curmudgeon
(Halfy By light alone, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 13:29, Reply)

Zombies
Yeah, I have an irrational fear of the undead. If I\m having a bad day I'll not go out unarmed, I Have gone through most of the objects in my house and assessed their ability to dispatch a member of the undead. I have a plan on what to do in the event of the zombies rising, unfortunately, this plan is not as developed as I would like it to be.

I can't watch things with zombies in, not at all, even if they're done with really shitty make-up. Shaun of the Dead scared me witless the first time I saw it (i'm ok with it now mind).

My worst moment? About a year ago after smoking a few too many a friend of mine thought it would be funny to pretend to be a zombie. I locked him out until he stopped and was more than ready to fuck him up. Fortunately I didn't, but I am scared fuckless of zombies.
( Lizzy_Bee is a mac user now, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 13:16, 15 replies)

being licked on the face by an older man
no idea why, I've had it for years. Maybe I have some repressed memories. But when the mental hospital nurses did it to Sarah Connor in T2 I felt sickened.

Women, children, animals, anyone else can do it and I'd be fine. Old man? ugh.... in fact it's so unpleasant a thought I'm going to stop thinking about it now.
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Wed 16 Apr 2008, 13:12, 10 replies)

Off Topic
Last night I had a dream that I was on Voyager. There was an anomoly that was causing massive headaches to myself and the crew. It was our proximity to the anomoly that was causing the problem. The centre of it was in London. Astrometric scans were showing a cateogry 4 in london. Whereas the north of England (Where I was) was a category 3. Then a long lost aunty invited me for dinner. But i was too paralised by the temporal field caused by the anomoly.

I know the geek question was a few weeks ago now. But I just needed to get this off my chest. Im 3 episides away from finishing watching the entire ST Voyager series.

Im fine now.
(Miggyman, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 13:11, Reply)

On a more serious note...
My office just started vibrating.
What.The.Fuck?

*fear*
( Cawl, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 12:59, 23 replies)

Bee's and wasps
I hate them! don't know why, and never been stung, but I cant even be in the same room as one. If one was to get in my car as I was driving I think I would crap myself.
( NoobMaster was sure I change my sig the other week., Wed 16 Apr 2008, 12:58, 3 replies)

Irony
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words.
(jidler changed his name on, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 12:50, Reply)

Phobia
Waking up under anesthetic, creeps me out to buggery!

That and children with snot over their faces that want a hug. Ewww
(Krizla6.9, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 12:14, 3 replies)

not a phobia, just very frustrating
I'm hornier than a horny thing full of horn. But I'm stuck at work, so there's nothing I can do about it, and consequently, I can't get any work done.

*sighs*
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 12:13, 53 replies)

Fwd emails
You know those forwarded emails you get? Not the phishing ones, or the NIGERIAN SPAM ones, but the ones that say things like "You know you are old when the word gay no longer means happy... haha lol haha" or "Have you seen Maddy?!" or "Smile at the person who packs your parachute!" or any collection of a) recycled jokes by American comedians, b) PowerPoint slide shows of photographs of nature interspersed with Pablo Neruda poems, c) anything involving optimism and silver linings in all its hideously nauseating glory, or d) the "news" that some child is missing/needs a toe transplant/has died but is now an angel who wants her email sent to the world so that others can feel angelic.

Well, I don't fear those. No. What I fear is a world that reads those emails, accepts those emails as some sort of truth and feels it necessary to forward them to me.

Therefore, I have trained my mother well: each time I receive such crap from her (all of which I first saw in 1995 anyway) I hit "Reply All" and type "MA! THIS IS BOLLIX!" underneath it. I consider it a public service.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 12:00, 66 replies)

Cake or Death?
Death, please.

Sometimes, I look at cake.

It shines under the lights of the displays at the cake shop, the sweet chocolate coating glistens invitingly and my mouth begins to water.

I think longingly of the chocolate and cream swirls running through the tempting confection, and stare with something approaching lust at the delicate chocolate and sugar decoration that adorn the top.

I reach out, desperate to have this wonderous cake for my own.

But I stop. My hand begins to tremble. My forehead takes on a light sheen and my mouth, previously watering, takes on that slightly acidic taste that announces Uncle Vomit is coming to stay, and he's in a pretty big hurry.

You see, it is not cake that I'm scared of. I do, in fact, have an actual pathalogical fear of having cake in my mouth. Just the thought of the spongey texture coating my tongue and sticking to my teeth is enough to send me in to waves of pure disgust.

I am strange, I have grown tro accept this.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 11:16, 105 replies)

Hair..
To be more precise.. Hair that's not on your head anymore. Generally hair that's gathered in the shower sink hole, and it comes 300 times worse if said hair is wet and/or still a bit shampooey..

OOO christ it makes me retch. Amusingly enough I live with my fiance who has short hair, so all the hair that makes me retch is actually mine. I can't even pick it up long enough to throw it in the toilet bowl. So I, as a result, cannot clean the bathroom. Clever one! I hear you cry, but unfortunately said fiance saw the opportunity to win there and used my phobia against me. So he cleans the bathroom and the rest of the house is my responsibility :(

Fair I guess :p


And on a side note, related somewhat to the hair thing. I also have a much milder phobia of chest hair, male chest hair. For some reason, when snuggling up in bed I'm always a bit scared it's going to leap down my throat and choke me to death.. O.o

I lead a strange and terrified existance..
(darras jeg har en grevling i hodet. Grevling, grevlang, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 11:06, 5 replies)

Rectal Prolapse...
... is one of the reasons I fear old age.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Wed 16 Apr 2008, 11:05, 1 reply)

Bored
I used to know someone that collected a series of interactive critters that you could teach to talk. They were covered in hair and had a pointy beak, and were all the rage in the mid 90s. Anyway, she ended up with every conceivable variety, then got bored and chucked the lot in a skip. A few months later, she decided she wanted to start the collection again, and spent her month’s wage in one day scouring various toy shops for the wee hairy blighters, then only a few days later decided she was bored with them again and gave them to a local children’s home. Couple of months later, and again the collecting bug hits her so off she trots to build the collection once more. This cycle of collecting / getting rid of continued for a couple of years until the craze died out.

Talk about an irrational Furby-er…



/Considers changing username…
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:57, 6 replies)

Not so much deep water...
but any kind of dark hole inside a body of water, especially the kind found in swimming pools (even those with a grating over). They are pools of black oblivion to me.
For some reason I'm terrified of getting my foot stuck in one of these - and thus either drowning in the deep end of a horrible, urine-tainted, chlorinated pool. Or bizarrely being sucked down into it, and presumably drowning (or being mashed up in the pool's water-pumping machinery / being dragged into hell / appearing in another dimension / etc.) Whenever I notice my feet (or any other part of my body) getting near one of these, I flail about pathetically like a drowning puppy in a desperate attempt to distance myself from the said watery black maw of doom.
And don't get me started about those big wave-machine gratings. I ain't going near those. No feckin' way.

I reckon I should blame all this on watching "The Blob" (the more gruesome remake) on TV when I was a little'un. Think of the bit where that bloke in the kitchen gets completely sucked into the plug-hole of a sink and pureed somehow.
Ah, childhood fears... I'd like to say they don't torment me to this day, but they do. I haven't been near a swimming pool in ages.
(Connor Lingus is running this monkey farm now, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:48, 6 replies)

The Victim Speaks
She kept telling me she loved me. She'd run her fingers through my hair. She'd brush my hair daily, nuzzle her cheek into me and stroke me endlessly until I was almost in a frenzy of excitement under her small cool hand.

Every morning and every evening we'd take a walk - she'd talk about what had happened that day. She'd talk about her dreams, her hopes, her fears.

I listened.

Always listened.

I listened patiently, quietly, knowing I was safe and secure in her love, or at least I thought I was.


She bought herself the very best of everything - she said she had a delicate stomach and needed to have only the most expensive food - never any Tesco Value crap, oh no, only the very best Marks and Spencers' food.

She wore good clothes, even when we went walking she'd always be togged up to the bloody nines. She'd wander around the house in silk underwear and we slept on silk sheets.

Me? I was simple, I could get by with very little.

On that final day though, the day when it all went tits up, the day when I finally decided to bite back.

That was the day the bitch went to the cupboard and it was bare.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:43, 3 replies)

Dystopia
For every wholesome, fluffy and smug Star Trek-esque vision of the future there are at least ten different visions prophesizing post apocalyptic doom in one way or another. On one hand we have politically correct explorers empathising their way around the galaxy in vast, shiny spacecraft, while on the other we have visions of urban decay and the slow drawn out battle for survival of the human spirit in the face of sentient chrome cyborgs, weapons of mass destruction or alien enslavement.

Dystopian visions of the future are a morbidly popular theme, we have 1984, Mad Max, The Tripods, 28 Days Later, Threads, Soylent Green and Planet of the Apes. It's too easy to convince yourself that the human race is headed straight into any one of a number of unpleasant fates. Frankly, it gives me the proverbial willies.

However, my most terrifying vision of the future is best illustrated by the oft-neglected film Brazil, a scary prophecy of a vicious bureacracy left to grow out of control while the meek but cheerfully British society portrayed does its best to muddle on, wholly accepting the callous instruments of a malignant government.

Imagine saying to a time traveller from the 1990s that the future will be "exactly the same, but slightly more shit" as you try to explain chavs, GATSOs, Pop Idol and Ken Livingstone. No, humans aren't travelling around the solar system a la 2001 but on the other hand, you can inflict shit R&B music from your mobile phone on miserable commuters in the middle of a crowded train. I feel rather cheated.

Given the choice, I'm not entirely convinced that a good proportion of folk wouldn't rather be enslaved by killer robots instead.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:40, 18 replies)

Late 1950s/early 1960s American animations
you know, the sort where the drawings are all angular and outlined in pen and the colours are garish and they move in strange ways. Well, imagine being trapped in that world. That freaks the hell out of me. Hell is being stuck in something resembling The Flintstones.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:31, 25 replies)

Metal on metal
Is there a name for that "fingernails on a chalkboard" sensation?

I'm not afraid of it, but the sound of a metal knife scraping a metal bowl makes my back go weird and I have to be elsewhere. It means I can't get lunch from "salad factory" because of the bit where they scrape the bowl into the plastic carton.
Aargh! Its making my shoulders hunch up now.

You could make my sister cry by cleaning orange juice off your fingers with a tissue. She said the sound made her think she was going to die.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:20, 1 reply)