I fart. Profusely.
It’s very hard to break the habit of breaking wind. And I’m not quite sure which is worse; the aroma of my farts, or the fact that I always blame it on the person standing in front of me. It’s not so much a habit, but rather more of a majorly uncontrollable bodily function which I should discuss with my GP and not my readers. Nonetheless, it is (unfortunately) a socially unacceptable habit alongside the many more we’ll be addressing in this article.
Picking Your Nose
There are two kinds of nose pickers. There are those who keep it classic and simply scrape out the airwaves. Then there are those who have acquired a palette for the salty taste of those little golden nuggets in the treasure troves that are their nostrils. Whichever one of these categories you may fall under, the enjoyment in this pleasure is very quickly shot down the minute you catch someone watching you in the act. Oh the humiliation.
In certain circles, particularly drama schools and opera singers, people are actually encouraged to openly yawn during classes to keep their jaws loose and their vocal chords supple. They appreciate the release of a good cat-stretched yawn, tongues out and all.
That’s me, opening my vocal channel.
However, it should be imperative to cover one’s mouth when yawning in public. I personally get paranoid if I simply cannot suppress a yawn when in conversation with another, for fear of implying that they’re boring me. Do bear in mind that if someone does yawn in your presence, it probably means that they’re just tired or hungry. However, do not rule out the possibility that you might actually be boring the life out of them.
I’m very proud of my talons. They’re home grown and sharp enough to blind a man with one swipe. But there was a time when they were merely an artificial snack. If you are determined to perish this habit in order to maintain perilous claws, I advise you to have nail polish on at all times, so as to stop yourself from feasting on them. The flavour of gothic black varnish is enough to trick your brain into forgetting you ever had the above craving.
How vile. How lewd. How crass. How unhygienic. This habit really brings out the snob in everyone. Here’s a serious appeal: If you are a parent, please make sure your child grows up to be a self-respecting citizen who does not gun out gobs of spit on the street. The mere image of the act unhinges many of us for the rest of the day. I think I can tolerate all of the above-mentioned habits, expect for this one.
Going back to my farts, the habit does actually have its uses. I once applied my flatulence as a love test on an ex while we were in a box at the Manoel Theatre. I asked him if he was ok with me letting one rip since I was quite uncomfortable, and he very kindly obliged. He dumped me three weeks later. In conclusion, if a man can’t tolerate the force of your farts, he’s clearly not the one.