GolfHos

Mine are Alsatian dogs, I was biten twice by them as a child (for no reason, just walking to school, minding my own business), and if I see one now, my stomach churns, and I get quite scared, it can be 100's of metres away, but I hate them.

a.k.a. German Shepherds (in case it's necessary)

Iranians.  My Mum had a friend named Bijan who used to pinch my cheeks really, really hard.  I think he knew I was going to be American one day.

having half my nose and part of my face chewed off by a dog.

i was abducted by gheys driving Japanese cars.

Rescued by robots.

Chewing gum - older sisters would chase me down and stick their chewed gum to my face...still don't like to chew it or see others chewing it.... :-[

Almost drowned when I was about five or so.  As in unconscious, no breathing, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  Not so big on going underwater these days.

Didn't happen to me, but my sister got hit by a car when I was about ten.  Four-lane road, guy was doing better than 60 when he saw her and (according to court testimony) switched lanes to avoid having to slow down.  Finally hit his brakes less than one lot-width before hitting her.  Very seriously injured.  That one doesn't worry me, but it's coming back now that I have a child who will be crossing streets (or wandering into them) soon.

Mine was just being shy in general. I tended to get picked on at times (even though I was a stud in sports and quite handsome ;D). I came out of my shell after High School when I went to college. But at times I still have a little bit of a phobia when it comes to meeting and mingling new people in a group.

I never did have any traumatic experiences as a kid.  Well, maybe the time I had a 11pm curfew and came home at midnight.  That one was bad.

OK, check this one out.......... monkeys.


As a child our neighbor owned a pet store and would many times bring home animals he did not sell, or that his wife really liked.  The two little spider monkeys were a hoot but the gray monkey scared the bejeebus outta me.  Given my neighbor was its owner and that monkey almost bit his hand completely off - I was one scared 10 year old of that creepy thing.

They would have him in the back yard on a leash, which was amusing to all my friends the first couple times they noticed.  However, one over-throw with a nerf football or too high a kick on the soccer ball and it was over the fence and within the monkeys realm.  We had it worked out though - one to distract the monkey while another went in for the ball (monkeys is fast btw).  Worked rather well for us, until........ one day the monkey just grabbed the nerf football, gave it a sniff, and started eating it.

I have no idea what nerf tastes like but its gotta be nasty - that monkey had almost half of it eaten before he gave up.  This added to my fright of that critter.

I actually had a few nightmares as a child about monkeys chasing me.

The memories of that monkey are very vivid to this day, but I cannot say monkeys trouble me nearly as much as they used to.

None honestly come to mind, but I'm a fairly neurotic adult, particularly when it comes to germs, so I suppose I might have some repressed memories haunting me.

I'd have to say..... the 1980's in general...  what crazy times they were...

Holy crap!   [sm_shock]

I got my first ulcer when I was 11 or 12, which means I had a doctor's finger fishing around my insides at a young age.  Attractive female doctor...Some people search for blow-up dolls; I search for sturdy hand-molds with long, slender fingers.  :o

Actually, I had my last ulcer at at 14 +/-.  I learned at a pretty young age how to superimpose a layer of humor over the world around me - pretty laid back now.

I lost a sister 20 years ago.  Ex-boyfriend - stalking before it was en vogue.  Was in the hospital room with her when she died.  Saw more of the inflicted damage than I wanted in that hospital room.  It does not trouble me today, though it probably took me 9-10 years to get back to my slightly twisted, "normal" self.  Tough decade.  I jumped at loud noises way too easily, had a tough time going to sleep so didn't sleep much.  Probably went from PTSD to clinical depression, revisiting the depression abyss too often. 

I realized that I was spending all of my waking hours focusing on the visuals of the past tense and the worries of the future tense (parole).  Since rediscovering the present tense, it's been all good.  The catharsis has lasted the last decade.  Had a parole review earlier in the year.  Didn't interfere with my life. 

dang dude thats harsh. sorry to hear that. PAROLE? are you *goshdarn* kidding me?

on a lighter note, i have a female doctor. absolutely stunningly beautiful woman from the middle east. has the softest touch of any woman i have ever met. best part is when they say strip down to your underwear.  [sm_devil] oops, i forgot to put some on. [sm_laughing]

"Gregg there is no such thing as Santa, and yes there are monsters...but I'll take care of them."

or the 80's thing, it was a fairly traumatic decade on sooooooo many levels.

Nothing really off the top of my head.

Lost my dad early.  Have recurring dreams of him coming back to life once in a while, but that's about it. 

Never had any run-ins with any monkeys or vicious dogs....or hot female doctors sticking their pointer up my arse. 

I'm not necessarily troubled by any memories but one in particular stands out and always will. 

When I was about 5 years old I would go into the living room in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep and watch TV.  Well one night I was on the couch in the den which is on the other side of the house from the bedrooms.  I hear a noise in the kitchen and look up and see a man dressed in black looking around the corner.  I scream bloody murder and he turns and runs back into the kitchen, through the laundry room and out the garage.  My Dad came a few moments later with a loaded shotgun but the guy was long gone. 

Apparently, he had only taken some money from my parent's wallets in the kitchen.  The police came and I had to tell them what happened.  I will certainly never forget it.

Catholic for eight years, Mormon for six, midget for 42.  You do the math.

UB, how on earth do you go from Irish Catholic to Mormon!!!!! :o :o(no drinking or gambling!!! :'( :'()
Please you must tell us that story!

It's generally because of a girl.

Born papist.  Soon that environment of guilt proved insufficient.  I wanted more.  Decided to get myself a Mormon hair shirt.  Plus those missionaries knew how to score popcorn and peanut butter - manna from heaven to a young lad raised on Marmite.  Then I reached that age when a good Irish boy gets hair on his goolies and begins to crave fornication and that beautiful Black Magic produced by Arthur & Sons (in no particular order).  Obviously the promise of your own planet in the afterlife can't compare to those two delights. 

So here I am.  Struggling along without religion but getting laid and drunk at a respectable clip.

Damn, and I thought my dog was a mutt. [sm_shock]

And this from a lapsed, fire-and-brimstone Presbyterian.