Are you kinda weird at times? Or maybe super weird all of the time? If so, then today’s textspeak is for you.
DJM kinda works like “Bless her heart, but…” works in the South. As long as you add this whatever strange thing you’re talking about, you get a pass. “Don’t be a hater” works well, too.
My love for Hanson. I’ve been a pretty hardcore fan since 1997 when their first single came out. Yes, they still make music. No, it sounds nothing like the song that everyone thinks of when they hear the name. I’m such a fan that I’ve written a couple posts about them — one was written in the A to Z Challenge last year and another was about joining the fanclub.
My pickiness. If you wouldn’t feed it to a toddler, then you should probably keep it away from me. Even with sandwiches. Whenever we go to the sub shop, I order my turkey on white, only yellow mustard. That’s it. No cheese. No veggies. No vinegar. Nothing. Whoever is working behind the counter always waits for me to add something else on, but I don’t. “Really? Are you sure?!” I’m usually asked. Sometimes I’ll look over the options like I’m considering something so maybe they’ll think it’s more of an options issue instead of pickiness (it’s not me, it’s youuuuuu!), but yeah, I’m sure. At least heartburn got me away from my second sub sandwich option — pepperoni slices on white bread. No sauce, no cheese, just pepperoni on bread. That one always got me this look:
My inability to properly do a shot. Despite once being the person that could drink everyone at a party under the table, I suck at shots. There is no “throwing back” shots with me. I drink them. Sometimes I sip them. If it’s a Jell-o shot, I’ll get a spoon and eat it. And the whole time, I’ll make an awful face and act like I’m about to die, unless it’s Fireball, which I like the taste of. I might feel like I’m about to die the day after, but at least it goes down easy.
My driving skills. “Skills? What skills?” you might say, if you’re a judging mofo. I’m generally one of the safest drivers you could ever take a ride with, but I’ll get you lost. Even if it’s somewhere we’ve been 50 times, you better be prepared to tell me to take a right at the next stoplight or we’ll be pulling into parking lot after parking lot to turn around. I’m also the queen of the 13-point turn. And you might avoid making eye contact with anyone in the parking lot after you get out of the car that I’ve managed to park in 30 spaces, but you’ll get wherever we’re going in one piece at least.
Alternative meaning: None that I’m aware of.
Textspeak I passed up: DBABAI (don’t be a bitch about it), DGAF (don’t give a fuck), DSTR8 (damn straight), and DYAC (damn you auto-correct).
What do you find yourself telling people DJM for?