Huh... you learn something new every day, I guess.

As for diagnosing people as pedants, I don't know how accurate it would be to say that it is it so "now"; I think I was five or six years old when I was diagnosed (in other words around twenty years ago), so it may very well not be the case anymore... or it may just be the case in Denmark, or even just that one doctor being peculiar.
Regardless, practically everyone who knows be today usually laugh at the thought that I have such a diagnose. Yes, I have a pretty much automatic response built into my brain that makes me correct people around me if I hear them saying something that I know is incorrect, or mispronounce something (a response which has made people [i]very[/i] angry with me on numerous occasions), and I've been known so speak very oddly because my speech tends to be unusually correct and includes the usage of words most people don't even know what mean... Eh, and I do feel a fairly strong urge to wash my hands whenever I think I've touched something I suspect may previously have been in contact with something I find undesirable... Though I think the latter trait isn't as much pedantic as it is an obsessive compulsion...
What was the point I was getting at again? Oh, right...
But I'm anything but arrogant (actually I go in the opposite direction and am usually very insecure, polite and cautious) and... *looks up what actually defines a pedant* Oh, it's pretty much just that. So... uh... well...
...
I was sure there was a part of the trait of being pedantic that related to order and keeping things systematized or something... whatever. Anyone who has seen my desk (with sheets of paper in various formats scattered everywhere, each covered in scribbles on both sides), my notes (just normal sheets of paper, really, but covered in notes... written in fairly small writing (to the point where most have trouble reading them), arranged so that every square centimeter of it is used up, on both sides) or my "wardrobe" (a couch with a heap of clothes on it) tends to find it hilarious that I should be particularly systematic or orderly. Eh, which apparently isn't even relevant... maybe I am a pedant? Eh... (Interestingly, even though people are usually appalled at how chaotic and disorderly those three previously mentioned things are, I know where [i]everything[/i] is. I know exactly where in that heap a particular article of clothing is, I know exactly on which sheet of notes a particular piece of information is, and I know in which order the notes are meant to be read, and I know where on my desk a particular scribble can be found. If someone comes in and touches my stuff, moving them around even slightly, I notice it immediately. I just don't feel the need enforce obvious order when I thrive just fine in a more organic order.) (I do have a closet for my finest clothes, though; my suit, my black leather coat, that kind of things... stuff that is ridiculously expensive. I don't leave all my clothes on the couch, just what I use in everyday life.)

And I don't know what "too much Portal" would be, honestly... Enough so that, as I mentioned not too long ago, the lyrics of GLaDOS' songs for each game are pretty much the only lyrics I know by heart, and can recite flawlessly.
Heh, and yeah, Cave Johnson... That's the name. He does have some nice quotes. He can't even hold a candle to GLaDOS, though. GLaDOS [i]is[/i] Portal.