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This is a question Bizarre habits

Sandettie Light Vessel Automatic tells us: "Until I pointed it out, my other half use to hang out the washing making sure that both pegs were the same colour. Now she goes out of her way to make sure they never match." Tell us about bizarre rituals, habits and OCD-like behaviour.

(, Thu 1 Jul 2010, 12:33)
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While shopping
I like to tap out a random tune on cans.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 15:34, Reply)
There's a spiral staircase in my building and I live on the top floor
so by the time I've walked down to the bottom I'm really fucking dizzy. I like to counteract this by turning the opposite way in a circle when I get to the bottom. My boyfriend mocks me for this and my neighbours think I'm weird. I didn't stop doing it for those reasons though, I stopped because last time I did it, my shoulder bag swung around in a big circle and smacked me in the face.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 15:32, 2 replies)
Stop making drinks wrong!!
Ice first, then water, then squash. Only acceptable in that order. If the squash goes in first it's just wrong. Also I like to suck the corners of my moustache and pull beard hairs out to show people how long they are.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 15:27, 16 replies)
I don't have anything to post that will amuse you.
So here:

American (most probably the fat kind, yes)

Now snigger.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 15:22, 3 replies)
New shoes
You know when you buy new shoes they usually have all that paper stuffed inside?

When I was about 5 and being dragged out for new shoes, for some reason someone (my parents, the shopkeeper, didn't really care at the time) hid a paper bag of sweets amongst it all and got me to take the paper out. Imagine the giggly surprise of a 5 year old discovering sweets inside those new shoes.

23 years later and I still subconsciously look for it and find myself disappointed that there's only paper inside, every time I buy a new pair.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 15:18, 6 replies)
In which Chickenlady puts up with the bizarre habits of nuns
I'm bored, here's an anecdote about knickers from the life of Chickenlady.

I've always had a strange relationship with knickers and have often exhibited odd behaviour surrounding them.

Okay, let's be honest - this qotw is producing some fairly dull stories so I thought I'd join in

A cold winter's day, Chickenlady is about seven or eight years old and suffering from extreme knicker envy.

My parents were not particularly well off and most of my clothes were bought in the local market or during the sales - nothing wrong with that, except that I went to a private prep convent school (long story involving Roman Catholic nepotism and pity) and I was surrounded by children whose parents only purchased outfits from John Lewis and Marks and Spencers. One girl, Katie, that everyone (read:me) thought was beautiful and amazing (actually she was a spoilt brat) had frilly cotton knickers with the days of the week embroidered onto them. I had banana yellow stockinette with 'Ranebow' (sic) printed on them.

Day after day I'd see Katie and her gorgeous knickers - when you're that age and frightened of the nuns you tend to all go to the toilets when you're told and leave the doors open so we all knew what knickers (actually, why am I explaining all of this?)

Anyway, the venial sin....or was it a mortal sin? Hmm....the sin of envy - probably considered mortal, particularly bearing in mind what I did to Katie....

During playtime I collected up some mud and rolled it together just as Sister Patricia had showed us for making coil pots. I made a big fat mud sausage.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

I decided to place the mud sausage, well, more a mud cigar actually, onto Katie's chair in class where everyone would see it and think that she'd pooed herself! Excellent plan, Chickenlady!

I managed to get into class first and surreptitiously dropped the mud cigar onto Katie's chair - we all sat on miniature wooden chairs pulled up to miniature wooden desks - I say miniature but actually they were simply in proportion for small children rather than the Borrowers or midgets, although on reflection they'd have been ideal for midgets but we didn't have any of them in the school - not that the school was anti-midget and in fact some of the nuns were very short but they looked less like midgets and rather more like gnomes - beards and all.

Anyway, the rest of the class files in and everyone stands behind their places - Bizarre habit insisted upon by the nuns - we had to stand until the teacher entered the class, said a prayer and then we would be allowed to sit down and get on with our lesson. So we stand there, Sister Patricia comes in, we all drone, 'Good morning Sister', she replies,
'Good morning class. Let's begin with our prayer' - she then drones the prayer, we all join in and with each breath I'm thinking about the mud poo! It's just sitting there on Katie's chair. Beautiful Katie that everyone loves. Beautiful Katie who won't be friends with me because of my cheap banana stockinette knickers with the misspelt transfer print on them. Beautiful Katie who invited me to tea once and I told a rude joke to her entire (posh) family and they didn't think it was funny. Beautiful Katie who everyone loves.

The prayer finishes with a communal scraping of chairs on the parquet floor and an echo of 'phuts' as eighteen seven year old bottoms drop onto their wooden seats.
Wait for it....wait for it....any moment now.....she'll scream.....someone will laugh.....wait for it......

Sister Patricia begins the lesson - hundreds, tens and units. Katie is asked to hand out the Cuisenaire because Katie is beautiful and all the teachers love her. Katie has huge brown eyes that remind me of a Jersey cow, she also has very hairy legs but she always wears lace edged ankle socks and not knee high socks from International Stores (I know, that really dates me).

Katie stands up and the cigar poo is stuck to her dress!!! And then, as if in slow motion, the mud cigar slowly and without leaving a single skid mark, slides to the floor and rolls under the table.

No one has noticed. Not one grubby fingered, snotty nosed, sticky-out eared or lazy-eyed child in the entire class has noticed.

The rest of the maths class continues without event. We all get on with sorting out how to add up and subtract using the Cuisenaire rods and the equal addition method - which coincidentally I had to unlearn when I taught in primary schools and decomposition was the new way of doing subtraction. Nuns probably couldn't teach decomposition because the Lord God Jesus didn't decompose, instead the Lord God Jesus ascended into Heaven, unlike His blessed mother, Mary who assumpted into Heaven but us poor benighted sinners will have to pray that the dear Lord God Jesus takes mercy upon our wretched souls and allows us to suffer in Limbo until we have atoned for our sins.

All of this was going through my mind as I wondered what would happen to the mud cigar poo.

The end of the class eventually arrives, it's time for lunch and the bizarre habits and rituals begin again.
We all stand - communal chair scraping and foot shuffling - did I mention we were only allowed to wear slippers inside? All outdoor shoes were left in the cloakroom.
We all put our hands together, eyes closed, heads bowed.
Make the sign of the cross.
Sister Patricia begins the Angelus.
We all drone the prayers.
Make the sign of the cross.

"Holy Mary! Mother of God! Who has left that on the floor!" Sister Patricia's face was the exact shade of the four Cuisenaire rod and it looked like it was going towards the two rod. My mud cigar poo had been found.

It was under Katie's chair. My dastardly plan was coming together; everyone would hate Katie and her perfect cotton knickers with the days of the week embroidered on them. Everyone would see that Katie was a stinky poo pants.

Katie began to cry.

It really did look like a turd lurking under her chair.

Sister Patricia kept Katie's table behind and sent the rest of us off to lunch. Everyone was giggling about the escaped poo and guessing who might have done it. We all waited expectantly with our lunch bags ready to file back into class - another bizarre habit - we ate in class with napkins as tablecloths because there wasn't a dinner hall.
Then the girls, including Katie, came out.
Then two of the boys came out.
This left only Smelly Peter in class - Katie sat next to him and that was the only thing for which I didn't envy her - Peter only bathed about once a month and after PE lessons he put his trousers over the top of his shorts.

Peter had got the blame for the mud poo.

And that's where I'd rather messed up - it was winter time, all the girls (including me) were wearing tights.

Everyone still loved Katie. She became Head Girl.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 14:38, 8 replies)
"What is this life, if full of care?
We have no time to stand and stare."


There are girls to be chatted up, beers to be drunk, films to watch and bands to listen to.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 14:35, 7 replies)
A few others
In the car when the wipers are on, I like them to reach the vertical position so they momentarily line up with a passing lamppost, and return to the bottom to line up things on the road such as drain covers, ends of yellow lines, bus stop lettering etc.

Also, when stopped at traffic lights, I constantly watch other indicators on cars to see if they flash in time with mine. Which they never do, but one day I will catch one that is in perfect synchronisation and I probably jizz my pants in delight.

My mate's car however drives me to despair. The tick of his indicator doesn't match up with the flashing of the light itself.

If I'm walking about my house - from one room to another, going upstairs/downstairs, cutting through the house from the front to the back garden, I pick a racing line around door frames, furniture etc.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 14:29, 6 replies)
One or two...
Between my other half and I, we have quite the collection.

I've got a bit of a bike ride to and from work every day, and as I go past cars, I read their numberplates. But not only read them. I have to try and make a word out of the set of three letters. So AB12 AYL for example, I make "asymmetrical". I have to use the letters in order, and it has to start with the first letter in the plate. I get really annoyed with all of you with Z, Q and X in your registrations, mind.

When I play EverQuest, I have to cast my self buffs in a specific order, so that the colour of the icons displayed down the left is in order, and all the ones of the same colour are grouped together. No, I don't know why either.

Both my boyfriend and I line things up. Trees, telegraph poles, things on a table, peoples' heads... Doesn't matter as long as there are straight lines between things from your viewpoint.

He takes this even further. You know the little tray table things they have on the backs of seats on trains? He has to make sure that all the little restraining clips are pointing exactly down, and not wonky.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 14:20, 2 replies)
When in the supermarket
I like to turn the tins left on the shelf around so that the front label is at the back.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 14:09, 2 replies)
To the tune of "Hymn of the Soviet Republic"
Which can be heard here:

Eating your dinner sorted by veg and then meat
Making sure the bean juice doesn't touch the chips
Labelling the contents of the fridge so it's neat
Bumping each side when you bang one of your hips

Can't stop arranging furniture, using set-squares to make it sure
Obsessively scrubbing your hands a lot
Paranoid about all the germs — worried that you just might catch worms
Sorting your books by the size not title

Checking to see if the door's locked a dozen times,
Before you can leave and then drive off to work
But you have to take a diff'rent route each morning,
And check in the back seat should killers do lurk

Can't stop arranging furniture, using set-squares to make it sure
Obsessively scrubbing your hands a lot
Paranoid about all the germs — worried that you just might catch worms
Sorting your books by the size not title

You have to be naked when you go take a crap
You have to be alone when you take a pee
Setting your alarm clock so it's an odd number
Such is the restraints of having OCD

Can't stop arranging furniture, using set-squares to make it sure
Obsessively scrubbing your hands a lot
Paranoid about all the germs — worried that you just might catch worms
Sorting your books by the size not title

(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 14:07, 1 reply)
for some reason, whenever i get near my mate's or my cousin's handbags, i feel the irresistible urge to unpack them. i'm not really interested in what's in the bags and i put everything back in again when i'm done, but i just have to unpack them. i'm not like this with anyone else's bags, just theirs.
luckily, they're used to it by now.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 14:04, Reply)
Ok, just a few that spring to mind:
- Straightening other people's furniture/jewellery etc. if it's not in the place it should be.

- I can only listen to a T.V. or radio if the volume ends in a 2, 4, 5, 6, 8 or 0 - 5 is allowed because it's halfway between a '10', but no other odd numbers.

- Do you know that Victorian game, 'Don't step on the cracks or you'll break your back'? Well, I have a bit of an obsession when I'm walking anywhere, that I see invisible lines coming off at 90 degrees through stationary objects (fence posts, road signs, trees, white lines in the road etc.), that all cross over each other in a weird kind of grid, and it's imperative that I'm not allowed to tread on them, so I end up taking small steps, followed by big steps or sidesteps to get to where I want to go. It's annoying.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 13:42, 2 replies)
Being Jewish
I think having any religion can sometimes put the 'batshit mental' into 'religious fundamentalism', but Judaism really takes the matza balls when it comes to meshugganeh.
(For example, the Jewish festival of Succot: Sitting in a tent in your back garden, in October, waving a tree around whilst smelling a lemon and mumbling in Hebrew. Insane in the hashem-brane fo sho)

Anyway, I have three main habits I can think of, thanks to the todger reduction surgery I had as an infant:

Keeping Kosher
basic rules here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kashrut

My answers to questions I often get:
That's right, I really can't eat that pork/cheeseburger/sperm whale you are offering, but thanks for the offer.
No, "taking out the unkosher bits" still won't let me eat that heathen conconction before mine eyes (praise the Lord, Amen brother)
and finally
No, I'm not explaining Succot again. It was probably a prank to wind up the ancient Greeks that went on for way too long.

Inserting Yiddish into speech
I don't sweat, I schvitch. I think Piers Morgan is a shmuck, but George Galloway is a proper mamzer. Half of my vocabulary starts with sch.

Sacrificing Christian children
Not for Passover mind, purely for the lulz.

p.s. I'm not actually that religious (I'm agnostic before you ask), I follow the traditions for reasons of Pascal's Wager, free food (thanks mum) and the challenge (after all, if I can resist eating bacon, I can resist.. I dunno, laundering money or something?)
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 13:37, 4 replies)
Like many of my fellow b3tans...

I HAVE to keep my music in strict alphabetical order. I fully believe that to do other wise indicates that you are sub-normal and not to be trusted. Most people recognise this and respect my general alphabelical system however:

It drives me gibbering-batshit-mental when browsing friends disrupt the 'internal' order of each letter category. eg ABBA, Aretha Franklin, Adam and the Ants.


I find myself checking, album by album, after any guest leaves.

Whether or not we were listening to music.

But that's not the funny part.

I bought and assembled a full wall of slick IKEA CD shelving. One shelf per letter, to fascilitate my alphabetical obbsession, because I have a further problem: Artists beginning with J CANNOT share a shelf with those beginning with K (and so on).

The trouble now is the uneven distribution of my musical preferences.

My favourite artists are:

The Ocean Blue
The Octopus Project
Of Montreal
The Offspring
Oh No! Oh My!
Okkervil River
The Olivia Tremor Control
Olenka and the Autumn Lovers
One Republic
Orange and Lemons
Beth Orton
The Others
Our Lady Peace
Ours to Destroy
Out Of Sigh
Oxford Collapse

But all the albums wont fit on the shelf!

My 'O' CD's are out of control.

Thank you.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 13:20, 11 replies)
when i go into public loos or changing rooms
i have to look up at the ceiling for potential hidden web cams
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 13:20, 10 replies)
I have a habit
Of lining things up, with things in the distance.

For instance, I am on my bed watching the TV at the end of the bed. My feet are slightly in the way, but then I notice the curve of my Toe matches the curve of the back of the telly. I will then spend the next 5 minutes perfectly alligning them both in my line of sight. Closing one eye, and holding my breath to reduce movement

I do this ALL of the time. Typically the edge of one object in my close vicinity with the line or edge of something in the distance.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 13:18, 3 replies)
When driving my car
I enjoy seeing my Milage counter read out whole numbers. i.e. 60000

I recently hit 65000 miles in my Peugoet 206. I pulled the car over to take a picture.

I hate it when ive been driving along and notice it something like 0069989 Miles. Thinking to myself to be prepared for the big number, I get instantly distracted, only to look down 10 minutes later and see 0070002 - ARGH!


Also works for RAS tokens that you work from home with. If I get a whole number I take a picture of it.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 13:14, 4 replies)
I have a habit of checking QOTW for interesting stories
and there still aren't any this week.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 13:04, 13 replies)
reading the labels on products in the bathroom
I have many odd habits but one that isn't too wierd (at least in my opinion) is that I can't go number 2 without something to read. Consequently I will read anything that comes to hand, generally the ingredients list on the back of shampoo, deodorant etc etc.

I have to check that the alarm clock is turned off 5 times before leaving the house, as well as checking the iron is off when I leave, then once the door is closed I have to go back in and check again. Fairly routine stuff I think.

I also make lists about everything, I fill my Outlook calendar with simple tasks that a better man wouldn't even need to write down let alone commit to the diary, sync to the iphone and even then constantly worry about until the task is complete.

Blah blah lack of unfunnies, apologies, obligatory length joke etc etc
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 12:50, 5 replies)
When telling job applicants whether or not they've been successful
After I've said their name and commented a little on how they've come across, I just can't help pausing for about five minutes, while playing a drum-roll on timpani.

I don't know why - I just can't help myself.

It's just so satisfying.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 12:37, 8 replies)
Many years ago I used to work in a lab. One of my duties was to produce sterile cultures of various wee beasties.

Over the 3 years I worked there I became an expert in keeping things germ free. And guess what? It’s bloody difficult. The buggers are everywhere. No amount of hand washing is going to get rid of them. Wiping down your work surfaces with Detol every hour is not going to get rid of them.

Your skin, hair eyes, nose ears are infested with hundreds of millions of germs. Your whole body is literally seething with them, constantly reproducing and spreading. And there’s even more on the inside!

And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

That said, if I get shit on may hands I wash it off, but maybe that’s just me?
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 12:36, 2 replies)
I'm not that afflicted with OCD, unlike my old man who has his numerous checking routines and ridiculous 'lifting a plate after he's put it down, just so he can put it down again' things.

But I am very pernickety about clocks being accurate. It annoys me that the clock in my car goes a minute slow per month, or thereabouts. My watch gains a second or two each day. I reset it against the radio controlled clock in my office and then use that to synchronise the clocks at home.

But worst of all... my new house has a double oven in the kitchen. Each half of it has a clock for the automatic timer. And even though I reset them to the correct time when I moved in, a week later they had drifted by a good 10s. So I have to reset them on a regular basis, just to make sure they are at the same time. Otherwise I get really annoyed.

My girlfriend, on the other hand, is permanently late for everything and doesn't really bother about the time. In fact, her clock-radio-alarm thingy gains time at quite a rate. At one point it was 40 minutes fast. But rather than resetting it, she just set the alarm for 40 minutes later. The logical thing would have been to reset the time, but she only did this after calculating her alarm time the wrong way, which resulting in it going off 80 minutes early!

I managed to break it (or so she claims) so she's buying a new one. Let's hope she gets one which keeps good time!
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 12:23, 2 replies)
Getting in from work
Long time fan of QOTW but never felt the need to post before, be tender.

I'm using this as a cheap way of seeing how bad my OCD really is. If I'm the weirdest/worst one on here then I'll do what my wife says and get some help, if not then I'll happily go on being quietly mental forever and ever.

So here goes, this is what I do when I get in from work:
I get through the door about half past 10 at night and sit down on the "work clothes seat" (I only sit there in my work clothes and will never sit on it in my normal ones) and talk to my wife. Then I'll get up and wash the bottle of wine that I've bought, I do this as I've had to put it on the passenger seat of the car and it will have got dirty as other people's bum germs will be have transferred from the car seat to the bottle; I'll wash my hands after washing the bottle just to make sure.

Once in the bedroom I'll take off my shoes and trousers then wash my hands. I put away my work clothes in the separate section of the wardrobe, making sure they don't touch my normal clothes and "infect" them. I put my underwear in the laundry basket making sure to only touch the bottom right hand corner of the lid then go into the bathroom to start more pointless shittery...

In the bathroom I wash my hands then put on shaving foam for a shave (I always shave at night, I'm very un-beardy and its a bastard shaving in the morning). Trouble is I can't fill the bowl with water because all the germs I've just washed off my hands will still be in the sink and I'll dip my razor in the water and spread the germs all over my face, so I just leave the tap running and do it that way. Finally I get in the shower, stopping halfway through to get out of the shower to wash my hands in the sink before resuming. Then I get dressed, pulling my slobby shorts on via the insides of the pockets (touching the top of my shorts is a no-no) and go and have a glass of wine. Later on I'll start my pre-bed rituals, but I think this is enough for now.

Not sure whether to apologise for the lack of funnies 'cos the ridiculousness of me has made me laugh.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 11:38, 57 replies)
At the supermarket
I am not able to take the first product of the shelf and put it in my basket. It has to be the one behind, or even better, the one at the very back. This does makes sense with fresh produce, as the newer stuff often gets put at the back, but I do it with soap, shampoo, tin foil - everything.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 11:30, 4 replies)
"No you are"
My girlfriend and I were having an on-off bickering argument about who was the more anal out of ourselves. As I told her frequently, I'm tidy but not a clean freak, as in, I hate having crap all over my floor that makes my room traversals a problem, but I'll happily have all that same crap chucked hap-hazardly into the bottom of a cupboard or wardrobe.

This continued for some time until one day she was rearranging stuff in her room. She'd removed all her books from a shelf, and I being a helpful chap, I put them all back up, with no further cataloguing than keeping the cookery books together, the story books together, etc.

I came back the following day and all the books had been rearranged.

Not alphabetically.

Not categorically.

Not even by colour.

They were sorted by size, largest to smallest, left to right.

She won the competition that day.
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 9:56, 4 replies)
Daily Mail
Just caught myself doing this again.

I seem to have developed a habit of reading the Daily Mail website on an almost daily basis.

This isn't because I'm interested in their opinions, or believe their news is in any way accurate. Nor, actually, is it because they fill their website with photos of teh sexy ladies.

I think it stems from reading a few blogs which expose the tabloid lies* which often focus on the Mail. So I sort of got into the habit of clicking through to the Mail website.

The off-shoot of it, apart from almost getting caught reading it sometimes, is that I end up like a quivering angry jelly because of all the shite and lies that I'm - voluntarily - reading.


Tabloid Watch, Enemies of Reason
(, Tue 6 Jul 2010, 9:45, 13 replies)

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