Tag Archives: British Eating Habits

6 Weird Things About Me

Because, quite frankly, I have nothing better to do. And nothing left to clean.
People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog. No re-tagging.
1. If a room has two or more light switches, and one of them is in the OFF position but it’s actually on, I’ll walk over and change the other one to fix it. There are four light switches for our kitchen, all for the same spotlights. Imagine the stress for me there.
2. I hated Barbie as a kid and never, ever owned one. She was unappealing to me because I thought her face was too skinny and long. The smug grin probably didn’t help much either.
3. Food:- Even though I am definitely from Scotland, I can’t stand the smell, texture or look of porridge. In fact, the smell of warm/hot milk physically makes my stomach heave. Even thinking about it makes me want to throw up a little bit.- I hate liver, but love pâté.- I love any kind of potato any way, except sweet potatoes. Get them away from me.
[These are cultural preferences and have nothing to do with just specifically me, but since I live in the States it’s looked on as weird, and therefore I feel I should give it some sort of homage, even though to me it is perfectly normal. Or not normal. Respectively.]

– French Toast to Brits is a savoury dish, and therefore does not involve vanilla flavouring in the egg mixture or icing sugar on top with jams/syrups. We eat it with ketchup. That includes me. And yes, I’ve tried it the other way. I’ll stick with the ketchup, thanks.

– The thought of putting maple syrup on my sausages, eggs and bacon is so vile and nasty. No. No. And no.

4. I have 4 crease lines on my left pinky and three on my right. There’s absolutely no reason for it.

5. I don’t like carrying a handbag unless I really have to. I’ve favoured my jeans/trouser pockets so many times, and still do.

This preference was escalated when after arriving at the Spokane airport in August and leaving the car we’d hired behind, we headed to the check-in desk at the other end of the terminal. When we were about 20 feet from the desk I thought to myself, ‘ok, I need my ID. Where’s my bag?!’ I felt the blood drain from my legs. It was under the front seat of the car where I’d stashed it for safety reasons so I wouldn’t have to walk around with it if I didn’t want it. (Note: my bag held my British passport AND my Greencard. Major stress.) The old man at the desk didn’t ‘get it’ and wouldn’t phone the Enterprise desk for us to make sure the car went nowhere while Bryan ran all the way back to retreive it. As he got up to the desk they practically stopped everything because they knew something was wrong. The guy at the desk radioed out to the car attendants who stopped the guy in the Chevy HH from driving away. A close call, but I still don’t like my handbags.

6. I’m not a huge milk drinker unless I am pregnant. Then we have to buy 2 gallons at a time to feed my habit.

I’m not tagging anyone, mainly because everyone has already done it.