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In situations where I've just washed my hands or I know I'll be eating soon, I become a temporary germophobe. I don't want to touch anything. Of course, I have limits. I still touch things I have to... like my little friend. lol
I don't like fingerfoods. The only fingerfoods I still eat are fries, chips, and corndogs if those qualify. Well, I mean to say I don't eat most fingerfoods without a utensil be that a spork or chopsticks. I don't like my hands being dark or sticky and when I have nothing near to clean my hands with, I use my shirt or pants depending on the colors. If I've touched chalk and my shirt matches, I wipe the chalk off on my shirt. I then beat it off.
If my nails are awkward (chipped or freshly cut), I don't like touching loose material like thread or cotton balls or any material that will get caught on my nails (I also don't like touch my own clothes, the catching feeling sends unappreciated shivers up my spine). ...I don't like touching my cousins who live in Pittsburg. They don't shower. They don't brush their teeth. They don't wash their hands. Sometimes, they sleep all day on the floor or with their dogs and cats. They don't clean their house (which smells of feces) and rarely if ever wash their clothes. If anyone has a right to call them "filthy Mexicans," it is I.
I don't like being wet in a mostly dry situation. I don't like wearing wet clothes, I don't like using a spigot to wash my hands and/or face and not being able to dry off. I don't like walking from the water to the beach and getting sand stuck to my feet. I don't like touching the edges of knifes or paper (tiny cuts are the frickin worst). I don't like touching shredded, rotted, or otherwise loose wood (splinters).
I don't like my hands feelings oily after, say, touching my face or hair when I haven't showered in a day or two or from trying to clean grease from dishes (f-ing disturbing and I really don't know why).
Jack: How do you know?
Will: It's more of a feeling really.
Jack: Well, that's not scientific. Feeling isn't knowing. Feeling is believing. If you believe it, you can't know because there's no knowing what you believe. Then again, no one should believe what they know either. Once you know anything that anything becomes unbelievable if only by virtue of the fact you now... know it. You know?
Will: No.
If Demolition Man were remade today
Huxley: What's wrong? You broke contact.
Spartan: Contact? I didn't even touch you.
Huxley: Don't you want to make love?
Spartan: Is that what you call this? Why don't we just do it the old-fashioned way?
Huxley: NO!
Spartan: Whoa! Okay, calm down.
Huxley: Don't tell me to calm down!
Spartan: What's gotten into you? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't me.
Huxley: Physical relations in the way of intercourse are no longer acceptable John Spartan.
Spartan: What? Why the hell not?
Huxley: It's the law, John. And for your information, the very idea that you suggested it makes me feel personally violated.
Spartan: Wait a minute... violated? Huxley what the hell are you accusing me of here?
Huxley: You need to leave, John.
Spartan: But Huxley.
Huxley: Get out!
Moments later Spartan is arrested for "violating" Huxley.
By the way, that's called satire. Get over it.
Styrofoam. I start to clench my teeth together and get small bursts of chills through my body. I can't even stand watching people touch styrofoam. Then I start thinking about biting into a piece of styrofoam for some reason and my throat goes dry... like I am now.
Raw meat.
Recently peeled garlic skin.
Especially cold raw meat. I had to marinade some ribs and I just felt so disgusted having to touch them. Ugh.Originally Posted by shion
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