Useless Bits Of Information About Me

Yesterday night I caught myself doing it again. I always do it when I drive a car. I've done it ever since I was a teenager. I have no idea why. I don't do it anytime else. It is just one of those things that makes me...ME...I guess. This got me thinking about other quirky useless things about me. Here's my short list:

When I drive, I bite and hold the insides of one or both of my cheeks. If I ever get in a bad car wreck, you'll know me by the two holes in my cheeks.

When I walk in public places, I tuck my thumbs inside my fists.
(I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with that one.)

I walk like a duck - toes pointed out.
My father used to point this out to me relentlessly, forcing me at times to walk with my toes pointed straight. It felt like my knees were being pulled around 180 degrees. I blame it on my years of gymnastics in my youth.

I get my eyebrows waxed.
When I pluck them, I get into huge sneezing fits. For some reason the feel of flesh ripping away from my face isn't as bothersome.

As a child, I used to be able to hear disturbing patterns of sound.
It was always the same pattern of soft and strong sounds, and once it started, it was incredibly difficult to avoid hearing, no matter where I retreated. I used to think it was something evil. It disappeared in my teenage years - thank the Lord.

In college, my hair turned bright green after a very bad chemical reaction with hair dye. I have never dyed my hair from a box again. I went from long locks to short boy cut in order to cut the green out. Paying mula at a hair salon is worth every penny.

I am the first born of four.
That explains a lot.

I have never received a speeding ticket.
After driving for over 15 years, the thought of getting pulled over by a police officer for speeding still makes my heart pound. I do speed...just probably not enough to make the sirens go "wicky wicky". (Wicky wicky is a term used by cops in our neck of the woods for going lights and sirens. How do I know that? My younger brother is a cop. I'm 32 years old, and my brother is a cop in the same county as me - and I am STILL afraid to get a ticket. Go figure.)

The perfectionist in me hates that I only can think of 8 useless things about me. I have got to have at least 10 things that are useless about me. Or 15. Or 20. Not 8.

Ah Peace! I've got one: I sleep on a baby pillow. My husband calls it a "scrap". The top of our bed is really funny looking. Ken has a giant king sized fluffy pillow that takes up half the bed, and my pillow is barely perceptable (only about 2 inches thick and half the size of a standard pillow). I don't like any of the standard pillow cases we own, so it looks even more ridiculous hiding in a king sized pillow case.