Bad habits
Sunday, September 30, 2007 ~ 9 Comments
I remember reading, somewhere, that picking your nails was, in psychotherapy terms, a “mild form of self-abuse”. In which case, hello, my name is Gordon and I abuse myself.
Hmm that last sentence doesn’t sound quite right.
Anyway, yes I pick my nails, rarely use clippers and yes I tend to do it when I’m bored. Disgusting habit isn’t it.
I also, when needs must, pick my nose, and have occasionally had a good scratch at my arse.
Still here? Excellent.
You see this post is a mild version of what I had planned to post, but the general theme is the same. Bad habits are generally those that are unsanitary or just ‘not very nice’ for other people to witness. However, for the person who has the bad habit, it’s generally not that big a deal.
Like smelling your own farts…
OK, I’ve gone to far, haven’t I. I know what you are thinking. You are wondering what else I’m going to admit to doing. Hell, why not, let’s get it out of the road. I’d like to stress that I’m not constantly walking around, doing these things, they are very much (apart from one I guess) fairly random occurances and not something you could define me by…
Ohhh and Mother, dearest, sorry.
The bad habits of me
- I pick my nails – hands and feet
- I occasionally pick my nose
- I fart (I get this from my Dad)
- I sneeze without covering my mouth
- I talk with my mouth full
I’m sure there are others but I can’t think of any.
OK, your turn, what bad habits do you have?
I read your blog.
Does that count?
I guess I’m not willing to go public with all my bad habits but I will tell you that I have a thing for OK and Hello magazine. I don’t know why, but I do.
Yep, I’m with you on the nails thing – both hands and feet. I also pick the various manky bits of skin on my feet, which drives Herself to distraction/violence.
Fart.
Snore.
Probably many others, but I won’t go into those…
I bite my nails. Nikki HATES me biting my nails. I am frequently treated to my hand being unexpectedly slapped away from my face whilst I am deep in concentration, prompting many cries of “WTF?” from me.
My feeling is, we as humans have been around for several hundred thousand years. Nail clippers were invented in 1896. For half a million years before that, we bit our nails to keep them short and tidy (ok, we also scratched at the ground and at trees and stuff for an eon or two, and that kept them short). Now all of a sudden, biting your nails is considered a “bad habit”. I mean, WTF?
I also scratch my arse, and my nether regions, albeit not in public, if I can help it. I pick my nose but have NEVER eaten a bogey, I definitely fart, but I never talk with my mouth full (usually).
Everybody does these things, the trick is simply not to let others see you do it. I also crack my knuckles incessently, which drives everybody round the twist and they always tell me I will get arthritis as a result. I’ve been doing it since I was around 12 years old, and I’m now 43 and don’t have arthritis, and I figure most of us get it anyway when we get old so I’m consigning that one to the “old wives tale” pile.
No I don’t have any bad habits.
None at all.
Except maybe the odd white lie in an odd comments box from time to time
You say you fart and you get it from your dad??
What does this mean exactly, that your Mom’s never let go of a trouser cough?
Everybody farts. “The day is long, an the night is yours alone, for dutch oven pumping/ every body farts/ it’s true”
I crack my knuckles…
I slouch in my seat…
I cross my legs, which I’m told ladies must never do…
I…well…that’s all I can think of at the moment.
‘trouser coughs’! I love that description and yes I am guilty – and it’s getting worse as I get older. It’s not the ‘letting go’ ones I detest it’s the ‘let’s expel it with as much force as women use in labour’ kind that drives me nuts. Since we are on the subject dad’s have changed recently from the forced ‘rolling’ kind to explosive thunderclaps. Hell of a scary as you get no warning – with the rolling ones he used to lean to the side so you were ready for them. Sorry I know too much information – I’m off.