Things I Have In Common With Edward Cullen
Me: I like to listen to music in my car.
Edward: He likes to listen to music in his car.
Reason Why I Listen To Music In My Car: I am so terrified of the engine noise that I must have another louder, more booty-shaking noise to block the sound of the car racing down the highway. Not that's there's anything wrong with the engine--it runs and probably sounds fine. Except that to me, the sound of moving machinery sends the same chills down my back that fingernails on a chalkboard do to most normal people. (My apologies, b/c I realize that I just made you think about fingernails on a chalkboard. Oh crap, I did it again. My bad.) I live in mortal fear of my car's engine, with its pistons pumping up and down, up and down, UP AND DOWN with such rapidty that the thought of what lies under my hood makes me want to curl up in my bed (with my new t-shirt sheets--those mother f*ckers are soft) and cry a little. I am also equally horrifed of ceiling fans on high speed and especially the ones that wobble. I look at ceiling fans and wonder why someone would use Satan to try and cool me down. In fact, there is a fan in my grandmother's house that spins SO EFFING FAST that if it wasn't bolted into the ceiling, it could fly itself around the room, probably hacking off body parts or at least someone's hair along the way. I do not enter that room when I visit. And while not terrifying, both windshield whipers and clothes dryers make me extermely anxious. If I had a Zoloft prescription, driving in the rain or doing my laundry would be so much easier.
Reason Edward Listens to Music in His Car: Probably because he just likes music.
For the love of cheese stop moving,
P.S. Honestly, does anyone else have any of these fears? I would like to know I'm not alone.
P.P.S. If you haven't read LTT yet (but of course you have), their latest recap on meeting Stephenie Meyer is here!
UPDATE: Not 24 hours after I posted the very intimate details of my severe ceiling fan phobia, I was sitting at a pub table in a restaurant out of town when I happened to look up and see this shit:
That's right. A big ass fan. A BIG ASS FAN. Thankfully, it wasn't directly overhead, or I would've had to politely ask the waitress if we could move out from underneath the giant spinning blades of doom. And then to add irony to the already ironic situation, Fiance' tells me that the company that makes that big ass fan is actually called Big Ass Fans. For real, y'all. Seriously, this sucker's blades were about 12 F*CKING FEET LONG. It's like my ceiling fan phobia had sex with @antisocialangel's helicopter dream and this is their love child of death. Needless to say, I did not enjoy my steak as much as I could have.
Things like this always happen to me.