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11:25 a.m. - May 22, 2006
Me, An Odd Duck? No Way. Ok, Way.
Well, you know by now I�m not an ordinary, average guy.

On the contrary, I am chock full of idiosyncrasies, enough to make a mere mortal fear where I tread.

But, you all aren�t mere mortals, are ye?

Well, are ye?

Well, how odd of a duck am I? Let�s examine, shall we?

I like to cook. I�ll admit that I�m not a gourmet, when it comes to cooking, and stick to the basics (mainly for time, because when I cook dinner it�s usually around 5 or 5:30 when I start and we need to start eating by 6:15 so Katie, the dawdler, will finish by 7:00). But I like to cook and will try a new idea now and then, if I have time.

One thing I do a good job with is spaghetti. Now, I�d LOVE to make my own sauce, but again, there�s that time thing. One Saturday I will just make my own sauce, but I use good sauce and THEN I enhance the sauce with my own blendings of spices and garlic and what-not, so it doesn�t taste like it�s out of a jar.

But one thing I cannot do, for whatever reason, is judge when the pasta is done.

I always ask for help.

No matter what pasta it is (well, except tortellini. I can figure that out), I make a plaintive cry to Liz to test the pasta.

And she does, without fail.

It still makes me feel a bit inadequate, but the last couple of times I tried to get it right on my own haven�t been to Liz�s satisfaction. So I play it safe, rather than be sorry.

I also feel a bit sheepish because at times, I have to stop and think about what foot my shoes go on.

I think women have it easy, with the strappy things and all that really show you if it�s a left foot or right foot.

But for whatever reason, I have to think a minute and go, �Is this left or right?� It slows me down if I�m in a hurry.

Most of the time, this happens when I�m changing into my basketball shoes at lunchtime. I think I�m in such a rush to get ready and go play, that when I get my shoes I start just putting them on, and then go�

�Whoa, left foot or right foot?�

Hmmmm�maybe I need to re-take kindergarten.

Another odd thing about me is that when I hang up my clothes, I only want hangers without paper on them.

You see, at our old dry cleaners, they used to give us the hangers that said �Official Cleaners of the Colts� or other such what not on the paper covering the hanger.

For some reason, that paper just bugs me.

I�m not all Joan Crawford about hangers. No one cowers in fear if I get the wrong kind of hanger for my shirts, and Blue Oyster Cult hasn�t written a song about me, yet.

But I am very particular about my hangers and moan and groan if there is a hanger with a paper cover on it. Why, I don�t know. OCD?

(You know, I have a built in excuse with that�heh, heh, heh�)

Did you catch the obscure reference above?

How many people know about the song �Joan Crawford� by BOC? Show of hands? A few? It�s hardly on the radio and I saw the video just once. Yet, Her I am making a reference about it.

I think I drop in more OBSCURE pop culture references than just about anyone.

And it�s not just here, on line. I do it at home, at work, wherever. I leave people with their head scratching all the time.

I mean, who else would write an essay about his daughter�s 4th birthday and title it �SmedIndy At Your Birthday Party� and think people would reference an obscure Steppenwolf album?

(BTW � that album had �Rock Me�, one of Steppenwolf�s last monster smash hits, along with �Jupiter�s Child� and �It�s Never Too Late� and a bunch of other gunk, really. It did hit the top 10, though.)

It�s probably just me, and a few other lunatics, for sure. Or fo� shizzle, to get with the pop culture vernacular.

Speaking of music, I have a habit.

Once in a while, when I�m really concentrating on the tunes I�m listening to, I start absent mindedly playing the air bass.

Or air drums, or air guitar. But mostly it�s the air bass.

Sometimes, even when I�m not actually listening to music, but a song is going through my head, then I start doing the air instruments. And then, of course, here is something I wrote about my air guitaring issues.

But of course, besides the air guitar, I do get wrapped up in my tunes, and sometimes get buried in my music and my work, and really concentrate and zone out.

Then, when someone walks into my office, and calls my name, I happen to have the most slapsticky startle reflex anyone has seen.

It�s like I�m mugging for the camera or something. I flail around and do a double or treble take, and my eyes get all buggy like.

The QB takes pride in doing that to me, just so he can see it.

I know lots of people have startle reflexes that are a bit odd, but mine does have to be seen to be believed.

As you can see, I�m not a normal guy? Or am I?

I�m sure everyone has little odd duck things, and I suppose mine are just part of who make me what I am. So thanks for indulging me, and thanks for Aliannmil for inspiring this.

(Oh, and one more odd thing about me. I basically have stated that I don�t do any memes or chains here, and I really don�t, unless I can work them into an essay format. But I do them all the time on MySpace. So yeah, it�s a bit complicated, but that�s life, I suppose.)

 

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