Everyone has their ‘thing’. It could be one ‘thing’, it could be two ‘things’…in my case, it’s several ‘things’. Those little quirks and strangeties (yes it’s a word, I just made it up) you have which, when other people are talking about you, they’re like ‘Yeah, that’s his ‘thing’.’ Let me give you an example from Friends.
Here are my ‘things’:
- I can’t leave a workplace toilet cubicle if I know that there’s someone else in the area, be it at the urinal or washing their hands at the sink. I think this must stem from middle school, where you’d leave the loo and everyone would be like ‘Errr, stinky head, stinky done a massive poo!’ I’m sure people in the office would be slightly more grown up, but I don’t want to run the risk of them either mocking me out loud or thinking it. I like to remain an enigma. Earlier today, I tweeted about this; unfortunately, once I did decide to venture outside the cubicle after remaining motionless for the best part of twenty minutes, I was met with the sight of a colleague – who must be the most quiet-footed guy in the West – washing his hands. My face must have been a picture.
- I can’t shower in the mornings, purely because I’d have to get up in the middle of the night to do so. You see, I have to be completely bone dry before I can put any clothes on. ‘Why not just towel yourself down?’ I hear you cry. Can’t do that, either. I have to drip-dry, sometimes stood in front of our fire in order to warm my giblets.
- I can’t stand the feel of sponges. It sends shivers down my spine. Once I was stood at a sink when someone sneaked up behind me and put a sponge on my neck. I nearly yakked everywhere.
- When I brush my teeth I move my head as well as my hand, so I look as if I’m repeatedly and quickly shaking my head at something.
- I hate steam. Can’t go into a steamy room without freaking out that the water is getting onto my skin and sticking to my clothes. It is for this reason that I don’t like steam rooms.
- I dance when I’m eating. Half the time I don’t even realise I’m doing it, but I just bob from side to side, elbows tucked in, wrists at chest height, boogying to an imaginary tune. Only when I’m eating, mind. Never on the dance floor.
- When queuing in a shop I feel an almost irresistible urge to yell my PIN at the cashier as she scans my items. Fortunately, I’ve managed to keep quiet so far.
That list is just the tip of a very weird iceberg, honestly. I guess everyone has a ‘thing’. And if you reckon you haven’t got a ‘thing’, your ‘thing’ is being a big fat liar.
You can’t dry yourself with a towel? Guess all those people who gave His & Hers towel sets as wedding presents are feeling proper miffed right now….
I prefer using a hairdryer. Feels great on my giblets…
I, too, hate leaving a workplace toilet cubicle when there’s some other bloke in the restroom. Glad to know I’m not the only one!
I think it’s a purely male thing – women love going to the loo together!
I think the leaving the toilet at work is a common one. I have the same “thing”
It’s a man thing, I think!
this is awesome do you mind if I reblog the idea????
Not a problem!
I HATE anyone touching my feet. They’re for walking on. That’s it. Don’t try to tickle them or I’ll kick you in the face (I’m definitely no Fergie. Try to suck my toes, and you’ll need an ambulance)
I expect a thank you for everything I do. If I stand back for you to pass me in the supermarket aisle, and you don’t at least nod an acknowledgement, expect a “DON’T MENTION IT” shouted at you while I run you over with my trolley.
I can’t go to bed before 10pm. I might have been up all night with a screaming toddler and I look like the living dead. But I’m a grown-up. If the clock starts with a single figure, then you tuck your little angels into bed and tell them to sleep tight. But me? I’ll be watching crap TV or talking crap on Twitter until I pass out, somewhere around 11pm. That’s how I roll….
Hahahaha!! My wife loves having her feet tickled. And I’m with you on the late nights…
[...] through the blogs I follow last night I stumbled across a great post from Goodbye pert breasts. It was about our things!! No Not those things, you filthy minded minx but the things that make [...]