“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
Blowing your nose while eating will get a verbal reaction from me. I can't stand it.
And spitting, especially on me, will usually result in a knee jerk reaction that can be quite physical. I can not handle that. It's one of things that makes me see red.
As for gross things, sounds can gross me out faster than seeing.
Example, when I had to have my wound packed after surgery, the nurse would change it. I could watch every second of it. But that sticky wet sound made me nauseous every single time.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
I don't mind any critters or creepy-crawlies. Show me a snake and I'll make a pet out of it. Don't mind germs, noises or gore of any kind.
The one thing I can't handle is......dentures. Dentures totally creep me out.
I don't mind any critters or creepy-crawlies. Show me a snake and I'll make a pet out of it. Don't mind germs, noises or gore of any kind. The one thing I can't handle is......dentures. Dentures totally creep me out.
Lack of wearing dentures, drives me over the edge.
My Grandmother, only put them in, for church on Sunday.
The rest of the week, we had to listen to her, "beat her food to death, with her gums."
Vomiting really bothers me. I can put my hands in someone's body. I can witness infections beyond your worst nightmares. I can hold amputated body parts. Vomit in front of me and I will join you.
-- Edited by Southern_Belle on Friday 24th of July 2015 08:28:04 PM
I don't mind any critters or creepy-crawlies. Show me a snake and I'll make a pet out of it. Don't mind germs, noises or gore of any kind. The one thing I can't handle is......dentures. Dentures totally creep me out.
Have you seen the antismoking commercial where the guy takes his teeth out? That sound gives me a severe case of the allovers.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
Vomiting really bothers me. I can put my hands in someone's body. I can witness infections beyond your worst nightmares. I can hold amputated body parts. Vomit in front of me and I will join you.
-- Edited by Southern_Belle on Friday 24th of July 2015 08:28:04 PM
Me too. Blood don't bother me but puke gets me every time.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
Puke, pee , and poop, the three p's used to bother me until I had kids and a dog, no longer. Tonight I took the babysitter and DD outside to put all the junk next to the driveway for a dump run.. We re positioned the log holders and picked up some crap that was in my yard for a few months. I was startled by a snake. ewww. I have so many this year.
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Sometimes you're the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug.
I don't mind any critters or creepy-crawlies. Show me a snake and I'll make a pet out of it. Don't mind germs, noises or gore of any kind. The one thing I can't handle is......dentures. Dentures totally creep me out.
Lmao!! I handle dentures every day at work, it's nothing to me. I Have screamed and even cried from seeing or accidentmy touching ****roaches.
I cannot deal with roaches at all. I have the heebie jeebies just thinking about them.
I don't mind any critters or creepy-crawlies. Show me a snake and I'll make a pet out of it. Don't mind germs, noises or gore of any kind. The one thing I can't handle is......dentures. Dentures totally creep me out.
Lack of wearing dentures, drives me over the edge.
My Grandmother, only put them in, for church on Sunday.
The rest of the week, we had to listen to her, "beat her food to death, with her gums."
Talk about gross.
Gak! Is all I can say.
LOL LOL on the bolded, FWM!
My dad not only chews tobacco and keeps a spit cup by his chair that I try my best not to look at (at least he empties it himself), but due to I suppose allergies he hawks and spits into that cup. All. Day. Long. It is a labor of love to igore it. I confess there have been times I've put my food back in the fridge after I've just started eating and I hear the hawk.... my dear R has tactfully ignored it all and never mentions it.