Phobias, Bolsheviks and Vile Odors

I’ve got a couple of phobias.  Clowns (I will punch a clown OWT!), mimes (I will punch a mime OWT!) and heights.  I have different reactions for each phobia.  For instance, when I’m up too high, my butt cheeks have a seizure.  When I see a clown, I have to suppress violence….and when I see a mime, I want to shake it like a martini and force it to speak.  I particularly don’t like it when mimes and clowns get in your face and want to interract and make eye contact.  This only intensifies my phobic reactions.  So if I see one of them approaching, I point directly at them and cock my head to the side, as if to say, “You get any closer and I’ll beat the brakes off you AND the horse you rode in on.”

In my studies, I have found that there are some jacked up phobias out there.  I admit I’d like to hang out with some of these phobics just to see what their particular phobic reactions are.  Like Bolshephobia.  A fear of Bolsheviks.  Really?  A Bolshevik?  Don’t sit there and act like you wouldn’t want to wag a Bolshevik in front of their face just to see.  You know you’d do it.  I know I would.

So here are some of my phobic faves.  Don’t be skeered.

*  Autodysomophobia – Fear of one that has a vile odor.

*  Automatonophobia – Fear of ventriloquist’s dummies, animatronic creatures, wax statues; anything that falsely represents a sentient being.

*  Bromidrosiphobia or Bromidrophobia- Fear of body smells.

*  Defecaloesiophobia- Fear of painful bowels movements.

*  Helminthophobia- Fear of being infested with worms.

*  Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia- Fear of long words.

*  Koinoniphobia- Fear of rooms.  Awkward.

*  Lutraphobia- Fear of otters.

*  Metrophobia- Fear or hatred of poetry.

*  Omphalophobia- Fear of belly buttons.

*  Ophthalmophobia- Fear of being stared at.

*  Papaphobia- Fear of the Pope.

*  Peladophobia- Fear of bald people.

*  Pentheraphobia- Fear of mother-in-law. (Novercaphobia)

*  Polyphobia- Fear of many things.

*  Rhabdophobia- Fear of being severely punished or beaten by a rod, or of being severely criticized. Also fear of magic.(wand)

*  Syngenesophobia- Fear of relatives.

*  Thaasophobia- Fear of sitting.

*  Walloonphobia- Fear of the Walloons.

*  Zemmiphobia- Fear of the great mole rat.

Word of the Day: Tintinnabular

Tintinnabular, adj.

1. the sound made by ringing bells.
2. a tinkling, bell-like sound.

The sound of Sarah Palin’s voice is so far from Tintinnabular that she’d need a pygmy guide and a nautical compass to find it.

Word of the Day: Supercilious

Supercilious [su·per·cil·i·ous] adj. 1. Full of contempt and arrogance. 2. Behaving as if or showing that a person thinks they are better than other people, and that their opinions, beliefs or ideas are not important; condescending.

“Facebook gave MySpace the Supercilious Stink Eye of condemnation and mockery.”

Word of the Day: Cathartic

Cathartic [ca·thar·tic] adj. Producing a feeling of being purified emotionally, spiritually, or psychologically as a result of an intense emotional experience or therapeutic technique.

I found it cathartic to publicly confess that I peed in the pool.

Word of the Day: Sojourn

SOH-juhrn; so-JURN:

To dwell for a time; to dwell or live in a place as a temporary resident or as a stranger, not considering the place as a permanent habitation; to delay; to tarry.

Example:  I was to sojourn in Albany for a short time before moving on to bigger and better things.  Alas…the sojourn has become something liken to human fly-tape.

Read more:http://www.brainyquote.com/words/so/sojourn221355.html#ixzz1NMk09WCV

How I Got Stupid in Minneapolis

Let me tell you how ignorant I used to be.  One time…I packed a duffel bag and hopped a plane in Columbus, Ohio…headed towards Chicago…and wound up getting stuck at the Minneapolis International Airport due to inclement weather.  The weather wasn’t ignorant.  What was ignorant was that I only had 62 cents in my pocket; no stupid food and hotel voucher mattered if I couldn’t afford the cab fare to the dang place.  It was around 7pm when I realized my flights…ALL the flights had been cancelled and wouldn’t resume until morning.

At first, it was cool.  Adrenaline pumping…taking smoke breaks outside with some cool hippies who were on their way to meet God via Delta.  There was a soccer team from somewhere in the midwest who let me share their crackers and Cheeze-Whiz.  This was prior to 9/11….so aerosol cans were waved on through.  I think.  Anyway…around 10pm the crowds got thinner and thinner and by 11pm….I was the Lone Ranger.  With my 62 cents.  Which wouldn’t even buy me a crumb because of the over-priced vending machines.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the Minneapolis airport…but it’s flippin’ huge.  Especially when it’s completely empty.  I was like Christopher Columbus up in there…exploring, being nosey.  I noticed that the cleaning staff were starting to give me looks that ranged anywhere from curious to frightened.  They finally got fed up with me asking to open the doors so I could smoke…and invited me out through their special cleaning land door.

It was out here on the sidewalk that I became stupid.  Against my will.  You see, the moisture in my eyeballs froze.  No, I mean it FROZE my eyeballs wide open.  I looked perma-startled.  My snot stopped dead in its tracks.  My lungs felt like someone had poured anti-freeze down my gullet and all the while, the cleaning people stood huddled together…a safe distance from me…talking smack about me in a non-English dialect.  Hell, it could’ve been English…but by that time, I was too stupid to know.

Long story short…I was stranded in that place for 2 1/2 days.  Write that down.  Two.  And a half.  DAYS.  By the second night, the cleaners had warmed up to me….sort of.  Enough to bring me some tacos wrapped up in aluminum foil and a can of Tab.  Oh yes.  Tab.  I think they were sick of hearing about how I only had 62 cents to my name.

At any rate….I high-tailed it out of there.  But know this.  I haven’t been right since.  Not completely.  I’ve dimmed a little.  Like if you ask me, “Quick!  What’s 6 times 7?”  I’ll have to stand there for a minute and figure out what 6 times 5 is first…because I’m familiar with that….then count up from there.  So we’re looking at…oh, I dunno…a good 35 second pause.  See?  Dim.  This wasn’t so before Stupid Town.

I don’t really know how to end this stupid story…other than to say on occasion…I miss being young and stupid with only 62 cents in my pockets and no fear.  Maybe I would’ve stayed cool…had it not been for those two days in Stupid Town.

DISCLAIMER: To all those who dwell in Minneapolis and its surrounding areas…be not offended.  Be warm, people…be warm.