No, I really don’t think I’m so great, but thanks for asking!

Because this blog has gotten more attention than normal lately, I’ve been very cautious not to let it go to my head. This is difficult, because I really, really like myself. If I were a different person, but I could still know me, I would want to hang around me all the time. Because I’m hilarious and I have a good complexion and an array of amusing t-shirts. But you can’t just like yourself all the time, because if you do, you look like an asshole.

Today, in an attempt to not look like an asshole, I’m going to share with you five things about myself that I really, really don’t like.

1. I never remember to call people. I don’t mean that I’ll tell people that I’ll call them and then forget and call them the next day. What I mean is, I never remember to use the phone as a method of communication. I will sit around and think, “I haven’t talked to [friend] in a while. I miss them.” The phone will literally be right next to me, and it won’t occur to me to pick it up and call people. Which makes me look even dumber when someone calls me after a long time, wondering why I haven’t called them. “Um, because I’m stupid?”
2. Due to my own impatience, I have no idea what coffee or pizza taste like. You know how when waitresses put your plate down at the restaurant, they say, “Be careful, the plate is hot,” and you immediately touch it? Like that, but with food in my mouth. Every morning, I pour myself a mug of coffee straight from the pot. I know it’s a million degrees. I can see the steam curling off the surface, like the caldera of a water horror feature in Yellowstone National Park. But I still immediately put the cup to my lips and take a scalding sip. Repeat, with pizza. The roof of my mouth looks like the tattered red-velvet curtain of an abandoned theatre, or the Spanish moss hanging from the trees in a Scooby-Doo episode.
3. I get irrationally angry over other people’s intolerance of spicy foods. It usually goes down like this. I’m eating something with someone else. Something like salsa or lamb husseini. I’ll be happily enjoying the heat level of the dish, when the other person will say, “Whoo, this is really spicy!” And I’ll think to myself, “This isn’t spicy.” And a few bites later, “Is s/he going for their water? Come on.” And then I find myself watching the other person suffer, getting angrier and angrier with every bite they take. Why does it matter to me? I don’t know. But I don’t like it.
4. I’m afraid someone is going to hear me tinkle. It’s a battle, a constant battle, to use public bathrooms. Port-a-potties? HA! Those things are echo chambers. No thank you.
5. I have professional jealousy over stupid things. When I get jealous of other writers, it’s not because they make more money, have more readers, or get great reviews. I’m genuinely happy for people in all those scenarios. What do I get jealous over? “She got a better deal on her bookmarks than I did? That bitch.” “What do you mean she’s writing a book about a steampunk vampire who flies an airship? Why didn’t I have that idea?!” Or, my personal favorite? “If she comes up with one more good promo idea, I’m going to go blind.”