I hate when people touch my bath towel. And by people I mean my family. I've been with Scott for 20 years this September and my children sprang from my very own loins (there's a picture, eh?) yet if they wipe their hands on my towel I get grossed out and need to get a new one. Call me a freak if you like but I'm rarely sick. I can tell if they use it, too. I dampen then hang my towel in a certain way and I know when someone else has messed with it. Okay, I don't really but that sounded menacing, didn't it?
And don't get me started on using Scott's toothbrush. Yark! Maybe if I was a contestant on Fear Factor vying for half a million dollars. But I'd ask if I could please eat a giant spider after. Just to get the flavour out of my mouth.
Geez, I'm waving my freak flag today, aren't I?
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