The Inexplicable Intricate Rules of My Life

From reading about my life and beliefs and whatnot, you may have come to think to yourself:

Wow, I really wish I could be JUST LIKE James.

And who is to say you can't?

However, to live in my shoes you have to understand there are a certain amount of rules, provisos and a couple of quid pro quos.

Rule number the First

Food must never touch. This is tantamount to being happy in my life.

Rule 2: electric boogaloo

You may not drink from the carton, it's gross

Rule C

Try to limit the amount of times you say words that sound like make, bake, take or cake. People will hear you and make fun of you. Relentlessly

But then, as obviously and crucially important these rules are, they do of course come with innumerable contradictions. Take the no food touching rule for instance. I hate food touching. Mash potatoes must never come in contact with the tomato sauce of baked beans for example. This hatred stems from a childhood incidence involving a camping trip, a deceased and rotting sea creature, my 8 year old self and a bet which will not be discussed.
It was then that I felt what can only be described as crippling discomfort whenever I came in contact with something that leaves a smell or residue.

Deep psychological trauma aside, there are many exceptions to the food rule. Sandwiches are foods which must naturally touch and are actually a massive part of my diet. Mince, carrots and potatoes in reality have to be mixed because they were regularly mixed before...the incident. Gravy makes everything better. Need I say more?

For the no drinking from the carton rule there are also contradictions. In fact, in all likelihood there are more cartons that the rule doesn't apply to than does. The rule mainly applies to Milk. Even if I am the only one that is going to drink from it, I have to get a glass or something.
For years I have scolded my sisters, two of which are my elders, for drinking from cartons. In my mind, when they take a swig, some of the saliva is invariably returning to the container, no matter how small. Every little helps as they say, as the ratio of milk to saliva slowly changes and shifts. Think of how much saliva is in that carton that you share with your beloved friends and family. Think of how much old spit you pour over your cereal or put in your tea.

Yeah. Drink from it now.

Orange Juice on the other hand is completely okay for me to drink from the carton. I have no specific reasoning of decade old emotional scarring to explain this. It just is what it is. Who am I to question my own rules? Without rules, society falls apart. And if they are rules for my life, and my life is my personal society, then it would be me to fall apart. And if that were to happen, who would be the token Irishman in a hall of Scots, I ask you?

And finally, the final rule of finality...there aren't really contradictions to this one. It's more of an optional rule I guess. You don't mind saying "cek, mek, bek, tek?"

Then go nuts!