This meme actually took me by surprise because I had it sitting in the ‘posts saved as drafts for a rainy day’ on my blog for a long time. They used to be 16 but I’ve trimmed them down in keeping with the title.
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Nobody’s ever seen me shave. I just turn up clean-shaven. I read Bandiet many many years ago before I got the first signs of stubble and for some reason I’ve stuck with a different shaving technique. Hugh Lewin had to shave with a broken mirror and soap at one point while he was in jail. I’ve only ever shaved with soap and cheap plastic shaving sticks — and I’ve never gotten bumps.
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I count the beats in any piece of music I listen to, trying to fit them into a pattern. Four and five beat tunes are my favorites — one of the reasons Pachelbel’s Canon in D is one of my alltime favorites.
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When I don’t like a particular incident in my life, I tell myself a different version of things until I almost begin to believe it. There’re things I’ve been telling myself for so many years I’m not sure which version really happened. In a way, it’s a great technique for getting over times I’ve goofed in the past.
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I don’t like physical contact, except the party involved is very close to me (and I can count the number of people who’re that close on one hand). Giving me a hug, holding my arm and touching my shoulder are some of the surest ways to alienate me if you’ve just met me, even if you’re a crush. Of course, handshakes don’t count.
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I love noise, which is surprising because I’m one of the quietest people you’ll probably meet. Only someone who truly loves to talk can get me to talk, and other times when I don’t want to say a word, I’d rather be with someone who talks for two — maybe three.
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I think scratching an itch in public is very unbecoming, unless it happens to be under my chin — funny, I seem to get those when I feel an overwhelming urge to be more macho.
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I love children. They’re about the only people I can communicate with without being pretentious — or quiet. I guess it’s the part of me that wants to go back to being a child.
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Oops, I think there should be an eighth. I like to disprove people’s notions of me — sometimes. If you find me prudish, I tend to expose my other, very uninhibited side. It gets annoying because I can’t understand why the heck I try to sound stupid to people who think I’m smart, and smart to people who think I look stupid — that includes ‘blowing grammar’ and confusing a Walmart salesgirl who once talked to me like a retard. Wait, that never happened but I’ve done something like that before. Now where did that take place? Is that Number 3 overwrite mode at work?