Build it and it will disappoint

Have I mentioned before that I don't like clowns?

It's so hard to keep track of the weaknesses I have shared and confessed on this blog (let's see: tendencies to exhibit traits of chocoholism, blogitis, control-freakage, delusions of grandeur, OCD... I should really start a spreadsheet).

Anyhow, the point is: I really hate clowns.

In fact, as a child I used to often dress like a clown on Hallowe'en because because I thought that clowns were the scariest boogeymen of them all (Hey Dad, any pics of me in that orange with green ruffles get up? Send them please).

Now in my usual confessional way, I must admit that there was a brief dabble with pierrots during the early 80s but what teenage girl didn't succumb to the romantic fluffiness of those mimes?

I'm pretty sure that the use of pierrot accessories as accents in my teenage bedroom decor (use accents people, ACCENTS - they really can pull a room together) - was due to the exotic sounds of saying something like "see how this pierrot poster and the doll on the bookcase really gives my room a certain je ne sais quoi?".

To my ignorant and immature ears, saying pierrot (and je ne said quoi) sounded grown-up and deliciously foreign and not at all neurotic or betraying my addiction to bad craft and decorating projects at all.

Anyhow, except for that brief stint with lilac satin ceramic pierrot dolls and posters, my fear of clowns has been strong.

OMG SWEET JUJU - why am I talking about clowns? I've totally lost my train of thought and I know there was a point in here somewhere...

OH RIGHT - this is what I was going to talk about:

I was writing a little bubbly and blurby snippet about this article found online last week and I needed to confirm the meaning of a particular phobia to make sure I was using it correctly (the fact checkers and quality assurance team at motherbumper is A-1).

So my minions were fact-checking the phobia reference when they pointed this one for me:
Coulrophobia. New and improved because it's not just restricted to EVIL clowns anymore. This kinda makes me feel all warm and fuzzy... and normal. I know that you beg to differ when it comes to labelling me "normal" but if the internetz tells me that I'm socially acceptable, then I'm one happy camper.

And another totally warped tangent that will lead you no closer to the end of this post:

My research department also pointed this phobia out to me. Wedged between two perfectly acceptable phobias is this one:
Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia. Which means if any children afflicted with this particular phobia will probably blow up on first introduction to my daughter and her iTunes. We will have to screen her school chums closely. That won't wash over well with the other parents, I'm sure of that.

So without further ado or abuse of the English language, the article that started it all:

Apparently CSIS (think: Canada's version of MI5 CIA really good "listeners" national security service) has a museum.

But no one is allowed in without the proper security clearance.

Which means, it probably is not very crowded on weekends and is a great place for folks with agoraphobic* tendencies. Well at least those that have the proper security clearance.
* YES !YES! that is the phobia that started it all!

And the best part is - the museum has a gift shop. Once again a great place to do your shopping if you want to avoid the crowds. But only if you have the proper security clearance.

How much do you want to bet that they have have t-shirts ing the gift shop that say:

"I spied on your mother"
or
"I know what you did last summer... no really, I do"

Kind of anticlimatic when you get to the end, eh?