How Weird Are You?

[Neesy]

These little quizzes amuse me. I never get the answer I expect...
For instance, I KNOW I'm weird. But yet...


Your result:
You are 3% weird. You are totally normal.
And that alone is so rare, that you're somehow a bit odd anyway. No one is as normal as you. And because of that, you are not only unique, but also rather weird. Keep it up!

I've met you in person - you do seem to be very nice and perfectly normal - good cover!

 

[Grandpa]

LOL. The ostrich bites are the most perplexing. It happen twice, at the same local game preserve, and 20 some years apart. Once when I was a kid, and once as an adult when I took the family there. I refuse to believe it was the same bird and he held a grudge for so long. The bite when I was a kid was to the fingers and the one as an adult was to the ear. Those suckers have strong beaks. I stay away from that Ostrich area nowadays whenever I visit. Even to this day (well, as of 5 years ago) they are only behind a 4 foot fence and you can reach over to feed and pet them.

I got bit by a monkey once. In the town where I grew up, the local pet store got in an exotic every now and then. This was the mid-'60s. It was fresh and fun.

So there was a monkey in the cage, not sure at all what kind, and I'd say hi to it. It seemed agreeable. About the fourth time I walked in, it had warmed up to me, and I stuck my knuckle in the bars in a little friendly gesture, and the little b@st@ard sunk his teeth in. Drew blood. Never trusted him again.

I had a pet hamster bite my finger, too, and kept the teeth in. I picked my hand up, and it came up with it. Finally let go. More blood. It died a few days later, and my parents panicked and had it sent in for rabies testing. Negative. Either i was poisonous, or it was not feeling well in its last days of life. I'd prefer to think the latter.

Then there was the rooster that kept attacking me on my paper route, but that was another prepubescent story.

 

[Neesy]

I got bit by a monkey once. In the town where I grew up, the local pet store got in an exotic every now and then. This was the mid-'60s. It was fresh and fun.

So there was a monkey in the cage, not sure at all what kind, and I'd say hi to it. It seemed agreeable. About the fourth time I walked in, it had warmed up to me, and I stuck my knuckle in the bars in a little friendly gesture, and the little b@st@ard sunk his teeth in. Drew blood. Never trusted him again.

Then there was the rooster that kept attacking me on my paper route, but that was another prepubescent story.

I always thought you were a bit 'cocky'

My Mom used to have an expression
"He's the cock of the walk"

Now, don't take that the wrong way - I think it's a compliment

 

[MadamMack]

Oy vey

That is one of favorite sayings!

 

[Neesy]

That is one of favorite sayings!

I think I am going to have to log off - I read Siggy's thread about her Dad and now I am thinking of my own Dad - I loved him so much

 

[Grandpa]

I always thought you were a bit 'cocky'

My Mom used to have an expression
"He's the cock of the walk"

Now, don't take that the wrong way - I think it's a compliment

I had a paper route. I could make $20 in a week. Pretty good wages for a prepubescent in the mid-'60s, and the sanctimonious newspapers were apparently exempt from child labor laws. Anyway.

There was one house on the route with people who liked a few animals. It had a German shepherd and another dog - a Lab, I think. They were leashed to stakes in the yard, and a bit territorial and growly, but I liked animals, and I kept being soothing and friendly to them, and they warmed up to me, enough to let me by and toss the paper onto the porch.

The rooster was something else. It wasn't leashed, obviously, but it hung around the yard, and the banty avian wouldn't do anything while I was facing it. No, I'd turn around to walk off, hear the flutter of wings, and turn back around, trying to swat it out of the air (it could fly for short distances) with a rolled-up paper I kept for just that occasion, while keeping my newspaper bag between us, best I could. Listen, I was somewhere on the teen/preteen age margin at the time and short for my age besides.

My mom worked for the local newspaper at the time, not as a journalist but a grunt in their offices. I complained to her one night, and she thought it was a funny story (because her eyes weren't in danger of being pecked out), and brought it to a journalist at the shop, and he thought it made for a great local human interest story, wanted my take on it along with a picture of the rooster fluttering at me, contacted the people on the route, and they locked up their rooster, and I never saw it again.

We call that a win-win, folks.

 

[not_nadine]

I got bit by a monkey once. In the town where I grew up, the local pet store got in an exotic every now and then. This was the mid-'60s. It was fresh and fun.

So there was a monkey in the cage, not sure at all what kind, and I'd say hi to it. It seemed agreeable. About the fourth time I walked in, it had warmed up to me, and I stuck my knuckle in the bars in a little friendly gesture, and the little b@st@ard sunk his teeth in. Drew blood. Never trusted him again.

I had a pet hamster bite my finger, too, and kept the teeth in. I picked my hand up, and it came up with it. Finally let go. More blood. It died a few days later, and my parents panicked and had it sent in for rabies testing. Negative. Either i was poisonous, or it was not feeling well in its last days of life. I'd prefer to think the latter.

Then there was the rooster that kept attacking me on my paper route, but that was another prepubescent story.

I got bit by a skunk big-big. My sister thought it was a good idea to bring one home for a pet , de-skunked.
He was sorta cute, like a cat (kinda) While walking him - jumped an latched on to my hand between thumb and forefinger. No shaking or screaming would cause him to let loose. The bad thing was that I was trying to play it cool because friends were passing by in a car and admiring him.

My parrot got me real good one time. Not his fault. African Grey, poor guy was walking on top of the curtains and somehow got that ring on his foot caught in the ring of the curtain rod. He was stuck hanging upside down and I had to help him loose.
He panicked. I screamed and wrapped him up with curtain gently as I could while somehow getting him free, he was growling and biting. I was a bloody mess. Ever hear a parrot growl? Yes they do.

I could tell he was sorry after all the panic. (he actually said, "you alright?) this is something he would say when he fell down when trying to fly (to himself) probably because I said it to him.

I am not kidding. That bird was so smart.

The very next day he was at the vet for a check-up and to get that band removed from his foot.

 

[fushingfeef]

I'm apparently only 3% weird as well. I thought I was at least 10% weird.

 

[KingAHolic]

I'm apparently only 3% weird as well. I thought I was at least 10% weird.

I love your name. I think it's my favorite on here!

 

[Mr Nobody]

My Mom used to have an expression
"He's the cock of the walk"

Now, don't take that the wrong way - I think it's a compliment

Here it's "He thinks he's the cock of the walk", and it's not a compliment. It's a way of calling the guy a bighead or saying someone's got a bit big for their boots.
(Also "He thinks he's Billy Big-Bullocks"...only not bullocks. )

 

[Grandpa]

Here it's "He thinks he's the cock of the walk", and it's not a compliment. It's a way of calling the guy a bighead or saying someone's got a bit big for their boots.
(Also "He thinks he's Billy Big-Bullocks"...only not bullocks. )

I figured it was calling a guy a ... a .... ummm.... cotton-picker, but without the cotton, and one vowel replaced.

Look, I'm trying not to get suspended here, okay?

 

[Neesy]

I figured it was calling a guy a ... a .... ummm.... cotton-picker, but without the cotton, and one vowel replaced.

Look, I'm trying not to get suspended here, okay?

My Mom was full of weird expressions and sayings and sometimes the true meanings got lost in translation. Poor thing - transplanted from Scotland to Canada and having to deal with a bunch of weird Canadian kids! (there were five of us - three boys and two girls).

The funny thing is - she did try to go back in the 70s with my Dad in tow, to visit her brother. I think it was 1971. She came back and said it had changed too much from when she was a girl. So she ended up staying in Canada after all.

(p.s. Good story about the rooster) Grandpa