Phobias
What gives you the heebie-jeebies?
It's a bit strong to call this a phobia, but for me it's the thought of biting into a dry flannel. I've no idea why I'd ever want to or even get the opportunity to do so, seeing as I don't own one, but it makes my teeth hurt to think about it. *ewww*
Tell us what innocent things make you go pale, wobbly and send shivers down your spine.
( , Thu 10 Apr 2008, 13:34)
What gives you the heebie-jeebies?
It's a bit strong to call this a phobia, but for me it's the thought of biting into a dry flannel. I've no idea why I'd ever want to or even get the opportunity to do so, seeing as I don't own one, but it makes my teeth hurt to think about it. *ewww*
Tell us what innocent things make you go pale, wobbly and send shivers down your spine.
( , Thu 10 Apr 2008, 13:34)
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ear cleaning death.
I break out in sweat every time I clean my ears, certain that some sudden, loud noise will surprise me at the wrong moment, and cause me to jerk violently, thereby lodging my cleaning utensil of choice into some horrifically painful and damaging region of the ear canal (or, indeed, brain).
And so I find myself running through long lists of possible disasters, standing there in the bathroom, reasoning that, should any of them occur whilst I'm scraping around in the deeper areas, I will be prepared, and not accidentally puncture anything by reacting. Gunshots? No problem. Fire alarm? No problem. Explosion? War breaking out in front of my house? Cat fight? Ghost? Alien invasion? Spontaneous human combustion? All fully expected. And, with all of these events solidly, hypothetically very possible according to my brain, I hope to heaven that I will put down my q-tip with heroic calm before doing anything else.
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 7:21, 1 reply)
I break out in sweat every time I clean my ears, certain that some sudden, loud noise will surprise me at the wrong moment, and cause me to jerk violently, thereby lodging my cleaning utensil of choice into some horrifically painful and damaging region of the ear canal (or, indeed, brain).
And so I find myself running through long lists of possible disasters, standing there in the bathroom, reasoning that, should any of them occur whilst I'm scraping around in the deeper areas, I will be prepared, and not accidentally puncture anything by reacting. Gunshots? No problem. Fire alarm? No problem. Explosion? War breaking out in front of my house? Cat fight? Ghost? Alien invasion? Spontaneous human combustion? All fully expected. And, with all of these events solidly, hypothetically very possible according to my brain, I hope to heaven that I will put down my q-tip with heroic calm before doing anything else.
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 7:21, 1 reply)
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