Anikka, as your court-appointed unlicensed therapist I am pleased to announce that in fact, your phobia *does* have a name:
GuacaMolehillaSilkaWiccagoraPorphyroPedoburritoPhobia is real, people.
Yeah...by 'people' I mean, those of us who get night terror dreams about being wrapped up in a tortilla with our mouths full of lingerie items by eight burning witch-children.
I feel bad for 'outing' you tho', Ani.
*passes you a long-winded hippo*
I'm afraid of the rats in my garage, the weeds near my garage, sleep aids, Tiger Woods, meat you buy the day after a long weekend, purple M&Ms, R Anstett's sock drawer (he might have puppets, what?), fish bones (chokey), everything about the movie 'Shortbus' except the soundtrack, the guest-host-du-jour on The View and my father, but only when he's wearing one of those snazzy 'I went to the Freud museum in Vienna, but all I killed was your lousy mother' T-Shirts.
oh and people who don't use the search thingy. Eeeek!