Four Random Things

Ok, we are only half way through the month and I am already resorting to a meme.  Sue me.

Four Random Things About Me  (it was supposed to be eight, but I can only think of four)

1) I am horribly allergic to buckwheat.  I discovered this eating at a crepe restaurant.  I had never eaten buckwheat before.  When my tongue and uvula started swelling, I thought I was just drunk.  I wasn’t.  On a flight to Hawaii, they served soba noodles in first class and my throat itched the rest of the flight.  (I wasn’t in first class, but my parents were. My mom loved those “weird bluish brown noodles.”)  I developed this allergy from a lavender scented buckwheat pillow I bought at the Body Shop.  I live in mortal fear of those buckwheat pillows they sell for people to bring on airplanes.  I am also reluctant to visit Japan because I heard those pillows are in the hotels.

2)   I don’t care for cake or pie.  It is a texture issue.  I don’t like fluffy or flakey foods.  The only exception is a very dense, wet cake (more similar to the texture of brownies) like carrot cake or Guinness Chocolate Cake.

3)  I can not hold numbers in my head.  Anything over two digits immediately gets transposed into something completely unrecognizable, no matter how hard I try to keep the straight.  I also can not do any kind of math in my head.  If I can get the numbers onto the paper, I am very good at math.  But it has to be written down or on a calculator.  My dad does word problems with M for fun and I usually can’t figure it out unless it is written down.  (An example:  There are three people, each one has 10 toes.  If each person picks up two toes, how many toes are still on the ground.)  Mr. A and I have a reoccuring argument because when we discuss finances, I can’t follow unless I can see the numbers in front of me.  This makes casual finance conversations a total pain in the ass.

4) I got my tongue pierced on a backpacking trip through Europe when I was 20.  I tried to get it pierced at a nice piercing studio in London.  They rejected me because my tongue was too veiny.  I was so determined, I immediately went to a walk-in biker tattoo parlor to get it pierced.  The tattoo guy did peircings between tattoos.  He was drinking a forty.  The girl before me got a belly button ring and passed out.  Instead of waiting for her to regain consciousness, the tattoo guy just pushed her aside and I got my tongue pierced sitting next to a passed out girl.   After London we went to Paris, then Rome.  By Rome my tongue was so infected and I was so ill, I decided to fly home early.  The only upside was that when I flew home standby, I got seated in first class.