Weddingbee Blog

Aaahhh! I love this series! I was fully in the throes of my obsessive Weddingbee readership the first time this series ran, and I’m super excited to participate now as a bee! So, Octopus quirks and secrets, here goes…

I have a really weird hang-up about plates and cups. More specifically, I find it revolting to eat or drink things out of the “wrong” vessel. Like, sometimes Mr. Octo eats cereal or soup out of a large mug. I truly find this disgusting, because to my mind, cereal and soup go in bowls, PERIOD. I also can’t drink coffee out of a clear glass mug, because it looks too much like a juice glass, and it’s GROSS to drink coffee out of a juice glass.

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Over the summer, Mr. Octo and I decided to try to save money by making iced lattes at home with our stovetop espresso maker rather than dropping over six dollars a day at Starbucks. Smart, right? Except there was a problem.

I couldn’t drink my iced latte out of a coffee mug, because coffee mugs are only for hot coffee (and they’re too small to fit the ice cubes and the drink). I started drinking my iced latte out of a regular juice/water drinking glass….but it literally turned my stomach. I started getting so nauseous after drinking my latte out of the wrong glass that I had to give up. Back to Starbucks, where the iced coffee comes in a clear plastic cup, like it’s supposed to.

Also I just realized as I wrote this that it sounds really, really obsessive-compulsive.

I hate suspense, fear, and being startled. I don’t ride roller coasters, I’ve never set foot in a haunted house, and I neverrrrr watch horror movies. I can occasionally be talked into movies that would fall more under the “psychological thriller” category, but if there’s excessive gore or scenes where a character walks through a dark space and you’re waiting for something to pop out? Nah uh. Nope. This goes back a long way–when I was in high school, my friends wanted to have a horror movie marathon for Halloween. I made it through Psycho okay, but halfway through Friday the 13th, I ran upstairs, threw up, and had to have my mom come get me and bring me home.

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I honestly don’t get the appeal of being frightened. I mean, the adrenaline rush of roller coasters I do understand, although my hatred of the suspense during the “click-click-click” of the coaster rising outweighs whatever fun it might be. I do find the popularity of really gruesome, gory horror movies completely baffling, though. It would take an enormous bribe to get me to sit through those Saw movies.

I had a belly button piercing from ages 14 to 18. I don’t even remember what inspired me to want a belly button ring so badly in the first place; I’ve always dressed fairly modestly and never had any intention of wearing clothes that would show it off. I was an extremely well-behaved teenager, and I was aware of and a little self-conscious about the fact that I was kind of a goody-goody, so I think the idea of doing something just a little edgy was really appealing to me. (Although, in retrospect, getting a piercing that your mom knows about, approves of, and in fact holds your hand during, probably takes some of the edge off.) I was the first and youngest person I knew to have a belly button ring, and for a while, I just loved that I had this semi-secret body piercing. My friends all thought it was awesome, and it made me feel cool.

As high school went along and people got older, belly button piercings became more and more common, and the accompanying jewelry started to get more and more elaborate (I always wore a plain silver ring in mine). By the time I graduated, I was definitely starting to think I was over my piercing. I hesitated on taking it out permanently until I went to college, got on the school shuttle, and saw a girl wearing a short t-shirt. She had a huge, sparkly, dangly, detailed belly button ring in–I swear it looked like a Christmas tree ornament. What I had liked about my piercing was that, at the time I got it, no one else had one (in my small, rural hometown, at least). Now that they were so common and sometimes so flashy, the appeal was gone for me. I got off the shuttle, went straight to my dorm room, removed the ring, and haven’t thought about it much since.

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Anyone else out there with neurotic, obsessive hang-ups and/or fears and/or secret piercings?