things i wish i liked but don't:
staying up late, for whatever reason. sorry, by 9 pm, i get tired, cranky, and, if you're making me stay up because it's supposed to be "fun," resentful. there are occasional exceptions, but only naturally occurring ones, i.e. a bunch of friends sitting around, chatting, and god! look at the time!
playing sports, especially ones involving balls."tennis? come on! it'll be fun!" no. it will not be fun. there will not be one iota of fun. i will run around fearing the ball and hating you. does that sound like fun? i didn't think so.
going to late concerts. i don't care if it's the resurrection of michael jackson himself, if the band starts at midnight, i will not be a happy camper and most of your questions about my wellbeing are likely to be answered with a short, snappy "FUCK. OFF. I. WANT. TO. GO. HOME." (this happened on multiple occasions in chicago, and other places where well meaning friends thought they'd "show me a good time.")
climbing big tall vertical mountains. if my lungs are likely to be oozing out of my arse then i am most definitely not interested. if you think i am a pussy, fuck you. i walked a marathon and a half, how about you? i can walk for 10h on semi-level ground, but if you think i will climb up that damn piece of rock just to see things from another perspective, you've got a long lonely climb ahead of you. i'll be over here, having a drink.
skiing. been there, done that. cons: expensive, cold, 50% frozen boredom, 50% sheer terror, plus the most uncomfortable shoes ever devised outside of the spanish inquisition; pros: can't think of any. it took me years to realise i hate skiing, and a further few to come to the mind-boggling realisation that as an adult i didn't have to do it anymore. duh.
organised activities. bridal shower shenanigans, tours, posed photographs and the like, bring out my inner hermit. i want to rub shit in my hair, stick a bone in it, and go sit on a (flattish) mountain and give everybody the finger while grunting quietly to my self.
volunteering for committees. i would love to be the kind of person who does, alas, i am not and never will be. if you're looking for a sucker to run your event, i will stare at my shoelaces until you have found him, and never ever meet your gaze. i come by this honestly, from both sides of the parental gene pool. my maternal grandfather was a notable exception but i got nothing from him except for a very pretty green satin bathrobe.
backpacking through the world. increasingly i am realising that while i am crazy curious about many places, you will not see me walking down the highway with matted hair and a filthy backpack covered in flags. i will go here and there, and i will daydream about going further and more often. this will not happen because deep down inside i know it wouldn't work.
cleaning the house. i do it, but i don't like it. and since we are currently running in for the time it takes to put in a day or two of work, do a load of laundry and pack and run off again, i have a brilliant excuse. after this particular upcoming trip* however, we have a guest and a dinner party, so i think i shall have to gird my loins and shave the fur sprouting from the chair legs as well as culling the dust bunny population.
classical music. i can listen to it live or in small quantities, but i cannot have the radio on classical music for more than half an hour or so before i go twitchy. exceptions: some modern minimalists and grieg. and of course, chopin. but don't put any brass or marching music on, and put that wagner away before i kick you.
raisins. it would make my life as the daughter/niece/daughter-in-law of polish women who bake infinitely easier. but i gag, and i cannot do a thing about it.
things i wish i didn't like but do:
drinking wine. i like it. a lot. sometimes more, sometimes less but for the most part, yes please.
eating good food in large quantities. i wish i was daintier and all, but i despise watching people push food around on their plates, leave large piles of it unfinished, and say dumb things like "oh, i couldn't possibly eat another bite." oh really? i could.
swearing. i like it. i think that the judicious use of the word "fuck" adds a certain piquancy to language, and you can't convince me otherwise. i am not a fan of using it in place of an actual vocabulary, but seeing as i do indeed have one, i think it can be allowed.
so, tell me a bit about yourselves, my little poultries. who are you and who do you wish you were? tell me everything and we can work on embracing our true selves, warts, raisins and all.
*i know, i know, i never even told you about the last one, but you know how much i hate talking about real shit on this here thing!