A Qui(c)rk Study

My trusty online dictionary describes a quirk as a ‘peculiarity of action, behavior, or personality.’ While the origins of the word are hidden somewhere in the realms of foggy land, quite a few amongst us, ACTUALLY strike that out – many of us, do have the odd behavior pattern, which might mystify, baffle, hell even, amuse us. And the weirdest part is – most of the times we can’t even fathom why we do it...

So we have people who sleep with their TVs on – if they wake up in the middle of the night and find it switched-off, they switch it on again, and promptly dropping off to la-la land; some people do not eat sliced cake – preferring to eat right out of the box it came in by breaking off pieces by hand; some drive their cars barefeet; some sleep with pillows on their faces rather than beneath their heads; some people cannot play / work / whatevah without their favorite handkerchiefs (I’m only hoping the rule doesn’t apply to inner-clothing items)…

Celebrities too are not untouched by quirks – the late MJ would never take off his makeup even when in bed, Jennifer Lowe Hewitt and her Mum count stairs, the list goes on…

I’ll start with some of my own, and then if you so wish, you could perhaps add some of your own idiosyncrasies:

• I can’t hear anyone brushing their teeth. Not in real life, not on the idiot box. It’s a dead No-No. I go a step further, applying it to people highlighting or underlining portions in a book, notes, newspaper. And to think I survived in the on-campus college accommodation with hundred of chicks who changed overnight from worshippers of lip glosses to devotees of glossy neon and hot pink highlighters. Five years - and innumerable term papers, exams, tutorials, assignments – you do the Math why March thru May was never the happiest (or calmest) period of my otherwise blissful all-year round time. I didn’t leave the quirk behind in college. It’s a loyal companion even today, much to hubby dearest’s annoyance. I'd rather hear screeching or squelching of tyrs in mud than the screeching of pen / pencil on paper

• I count, and worse – color coordinate, M&Ms while eating them. I extend this favored rule to Skittles, Dragees, Smarties, Reese’s pieces, as well as closer home, Gems (You can’t call me a racist candy-lover, as you can see). Red invariably gets popped first into my mouth, followed by purples, orange and pinks. Yellow and green are usually the last ones. No reason for this one either

• If I happen to spot a strip of medicine, and have easy access to a small pair of scissors, I just have to round off the corners. Go figure that one out…

• If I spot lotion balls that have formed near the mosituriser / lotion / cream lid, I scream an extended ‘Eeyuck’ in my mind, and run off to clean it with a wet cotton ball. Touching them with bare hands is a beyond all imagination

• All currency notes in my wallet have to be arranged in denomination. I even go a step ahead – smoothe out wrinkled notes and place them heads-up

• Not all shoes are born equal for me, I have to wear my right shoe first. If while going for my workout I slip on my left shoe by mistake, and realize it the next minute, off the shoe comes. Probably my Cinderella-fixation from my childhood days is still dormant in my subconscious, who knows…

• I have my good luck perfumes, and my jinxed ones. And even though I never do use the latter, I cannot dream of passing them on to people who will. Of course, the infrequent dropping of these jinxed perfumes – all ‘by mistake,’ let me assure you, does happen...

• My daily ablutions all have to happen in a particular order – Handwash, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, foam facial cleanser. To the T! Luckily, if I go over the schedule a little out of order, I only obsess about it for the next half hour, and do not go over the ritual again...TGFSM

• Even if I don’t have to empty my bladder, I visit the loo before I hit the sack. Just so I don't need to get up in the middle of the night to atend to nature's call...

• When TOOMA* holds my hand while sleeping, my hand has to always be the bottom one. I make the ‘correction’ if the order is reversed

• Since my childhood, I have this quirk of starting with the items I dislike on my plate, moving to my more appreciated food items. The last piece I swallow is usually what I like best. Sometimes I leave a portion till all the others have been finished on my plate. I don’t even realize that I’m doing it, but oh yeah – I sure do relish what I eat last

• While eating chocolate or candies, I suck on them till they are melted, and subsequently eat them, unlike ‘normal’ people who chew them right away

• My feet or toes are always in motion. Even in the midst of a training or a lunch session, they are usually doing their own tap dance ritual or wiggling

Moving on to the others - the Crème de la crème

• Not that I spy on him, I know that TOOMA while he’s on the John, has to have a newspaper in hand. I have no idea if he reads it, or if while reading, he is assured of a ‘steady deposit, ‘I do know that he is not selective – he will just about take any paper / magazine in the English language– even one that is a couple of days old, and he’s already pored through it

• My Mom and BFF (Best Female Friend) have to set things in the house in a proper manner always. You push a table a few inches here and there – they will glower at you, and put it right where it was. But I think instead of calling it a quirk, people are calling these OCD patterns…Heeyuck Heeyuck (I sure am dead if either of them were to read this)

• Good friend twirls her hair at all times – at the breakfast table, in a meeting, while watching a movie, while reading her own article that’s come out in that day’s newspaper issue, while buying groceries, heck even sometimes while she’s driving the car (and me nuts)...

• Another friend has to pull back the shower curtain, and peep inside that no cold-blooded killer is out to kill her, and only after she is fully satisfied that the bath only consists of her, her tub, her bath salts, and an assortment of bath products that she sighs in relief and sets about performing her daily bathing ritual. Try telling her that she borders on the paranoid, and there! You shall be subjected to a scowl, in whose comparison, Victoria Beckham’s scowl will seem like a golden ray of sunshine

• Another friend from college, if you try to fold her clothes, will unfold them again – as she likes her clothes to be folded in a certain fashion – her fashion. Needless to say, I never proffered her my help again...

• A good friend enjoys a love-hate relationship with ketchup. So while he would dunk his French fries and cutlets in ketchup, he will often ask for a side dish to put the ketchup in, and only then, begin his dipping ritual. Apparently, he hates his food items get soggy with the ketchup. I wonder what his stomach thinks of his odd habit...

And of course, the list would be incomplete without a mention of my BFF again – who, no matter how sting-free an onion may be, just has t wear sunglasses while chopping it. And if she, so much as squeaks in indignation that she doesn’t, she should know that I have photographic evidence…

And now, let me prepare myself to be choked to death by her very own bare hands….

The only consolation - at least, I’ll die laffing...

(*TOOMA - The Object of my Affection. Sometimes also referred to as hubby dearest)

Biting the bullet (literally)!

Of course, it's a fact that everyone wants to wreck their car(s).

Want to sabotage yours?

Simple. Take your home keys, and drag it across the sides, ensuring that the entire front to back gets equally scraped. Then step back, wipe the perspiration off your brow, and enjoy the admirable vandalism you have committed.

Too extreme for you? Chicken, eh?

Then look no further than decal vinyl stickers, all the rage these days, and freely available at stores worldwide.

Taking the world of customising cars by storm. To a new high altogether.

Of course, this is what every car owner wants – giving the impression that he is a badass gangster whose 4 x 4 has been riddled by bullets from a .50 or a .20, isn't it?

And oh boy! Is this fad popular! You bet! How else in the world would you explain the 4 cars that zipped past me last week, their exteriors proudly emblazoned with these 100% vinyl stickers, the hot wheels looking as if they have had more than their share of gunshots?

They look so real that unless you touch them, you wouldn't be able to tell them apart from, let's say, the real deal at the unfortunate Jallianwala Bagh wall.

Ingenious? No other word comes close to it...

Psst – can't locate a store? Fear not. Place an order online. There are a horde of websites who will only be too happy to assist you in making you look like a lame Alphaghetto. Go ahead – it isn't tacky or lame at all - Bullet1, Bullet Hole Decals, oh come on, even Prank Place has them.

Now admit it - isn't that exactly the kind of uniqueness and trendy fashion you were looking for in the first place? (Cheshire cat grin)

TOOMA* was visibly horrified to see a Safari whizzing past his own plain vanilla Accent, rolling his eyes at what he claimed was an 'eyesore.' Being his ever-wise gurl, I woke him up to the entire 'chic fashion statment' theory, exlaining that this was exactly what I called flaunting the 'right' 'With-It,' and with that, we let the subject drift to other light topics.

An enterprising poll on one such site asks readers to adjudge if applying decals that look like Bullet Holes to their cars, sends across a bad message promoting violence, or if it's cool? I voted for the former (as did 23.5% who agreed with me), but the remaining whopping 76.3% stated it looked cool and was for fun.

I mean, Foolish ol’ me! I should have had gone along with the safety in numbers theory. Duh!

That the website is dedicated in remembrance of the 9/11 attack could only be a mere coincidence, isn't it?

These guys are pure genius, I tell you.

As are those who buy these oh-so-in-vogue stickers.

Want to order some stickers for your bike / pair of wheels? Go right ahead.

My admiring glance is sure to follow you even seconds after you whiz by...


*TOOMA - The Object Of My Affection

"Penciling" it out

When I “upgraded” from pencils to pens in school, I couldn't be happier; infact, I felt a strange sense of deliverance.

After all, the sound of a pencil on paper is as disgusting to me as a person sucking snot out of his nose into his mouth may be for you.

While a lot of my classmates in school and college flinched when the teacher’s chalk, in a hasty spell of writing, produced a screeching sound where it met the blackboard, I was the only “whacko” who would cringe every time someone would hastily jot down something with a pencil.

It became worse in college, when my roommate (now my best friend), would study with me for the approaching exams. While m textbooks and notes looked like a rainbow, thanks to the multi-highlighter approach I was partial to, she would proceed with her studying by underlining (and boy! Could she underline) the text, much to my obvious vexation.

One look at my perfectly arched disapproving eyebrow, and she would promise not to use the displeasing pencil.

However, ever so softly, within minutes, she would be willfully underlining with the offensive pencil again.

Despite the next to no sound, my keen sense of sound would be in force, and after five seconds or so of keeping my ears pricked like a vigilant cocker-spaniel, I would spring up from the chair or bed, as the case may be, cast a look of pure venom at my now apologetic friend, and fling myself on either the courtyard bench or the corridor stairs, a decidedly scowling look evident on my face.

What else could you expect from someone, who, right in the middle of an entire year of debating, writing, sports, quizzing, and retail-therapy, was rudely awakened by the call of the annual monster – the examinations? And who, while in the midst of a chaotic time of notes-borrowing, cramming, studying with one sleepy and one half-awake eye, on a tummy which craved outside food, but which had to contend with hostel-food for the time-being, had to also cope with dreadful pencil-underlining sounds.

The scene was no better in the college common-room, where students from all three years, probably vied with unsaid competitions of who-will-underline-the-most-and-drive-Vandana-hopping-crazy, leaving me very very hot and bothered.
Till now, when someone picks up a pencil, I look alarmingly at the person, a look of don’t-tell-me-you-are-going-to-use-that-thing-are-you? on my very expressive face.

It is easy if the person is known and if I have a comfort level with him / her, because then I can playfully a) pass a pen into his / her hands (like when I do to TOOMA when he is penciling a writing task) or b) in the eventuality of no pen in hand, plead with him / her not to make use of the odious writing instrument, citing the virtues of oral communication or honing a razor-sharp memory instead.

However, the trouble arises if the person is not too well-known to me, or worse, if I, for obvious reasons, cannot risk myself be termed a weirdo by confiding about my unease at hearing a pencil sound. I have known people who, after hearing about my idiosyncrasy, have a look of disbelief and / or pity at my plight plainly plastered on their sometimes smug faces.

Needless to say, they don’t do wonders for me.

At all such times, I just squirm in my place, waiting for the abominable sound to stop.

Sighing with relief when the monstrous pencil is put down….

This is probably me at her quirky best!

Joined-at-the-hip couples

Have you ever seen one of those couples who stick to each other like conjoined twins?

They give a whole new meaning to the term, “surgically inseparable.”

Now, don’t take me for one of those cynical sorts.

I mean, I DO like couples who stick it out, through thick and thin, who are like mutual support systems, push boundaries to be with each other, yada yada yada.

I mean, who doesn’t, right?

But hell! What I totally fail to understand is when two adults hang out together, at say, a party / gathering / meet, and suffer pangs of separation anxiety when one of them goes to probably re-fill a glass with that very potent rum!!

Duration of "separation" - not more than 3 minutes. OMG!

And it’s usually we women folks who are the ones who do this.

Aw come on folks, it’s only a matter of a couple of minutes (ok, maybe a FEW minutes), before the darling sweetheart will re-appear with a flourish, armed with the bubbly. I really wouldn't be surprised if they were to make each other pee. Jeeeez.

However what transpires in those two minutes, is something like this, give or take a couple of things:

The “waiting” beloved will constantly look longingly at the bar / watch on her wrist, an anxious look plainly plastered over her carefully-made up face.

After what seems like an eternity (Ahem), when the guy in question FINALLY seems to be weaving his way through the crowd to her, she would heave a very very audible sigh of relief, flash all her pearlies, probably give a triumphant high-five on his “successful return,” maybe squeeze in a kiss (or two), hold hands, while all the while maintaining the lovey-dovey look (much to my exasperation), and murmur a (nauseating) I-missed-you-so-much-my-cootchie-coo-fluffy-hunny-tweedledums!!
And cause me to roll my eyes in the exaggerated way I excel at. To add to my annoyance, I sure do see a very very vivid red when I see them going at each others' tonsils.

Oh heavens!!

Sometimes, all I need is a .60 calibre.

Care to oblige me...?

And your quirk is....?

“My daughter is about to give another of her Presidential speeches,” would be my Dad’s constant refrain, to no one in particular, each time I would clear my throat (a habit, which began during my school years, has continued with me over the years, and which seems in no hurry to depart).

Many many years later I realized that what I had shrugged off for so many years as just another of my quirks, had a name – Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (more commonly known as OCD). And I don’t have just one – I have quite a few – for instance, on a couple of occasions, when I spritzed a popular blue-bottled EDP with notes of aqua and citrus, I chanced to fight with TOOMA (The Object of my Affection), and decided that the offending fume was a jinx, and promptly banished it to the back of my closet. It doesn’t quite end there – I sometimes count the steps when I climb stairs, a quirk which I am glad to know, I share with Jennifer Love Hewitt.

TOOMA sees his arm size pat every morning, something he admitted to me today. He also strokes his stubble when he is immersed in thought (a fact which he revealed over the phone, and which I have yet to confirm myself). Mom, best friend, and quite a few others share an OCD for cleanliness. Everything has to be in symmetry, so much so that if I chance to move a table at my place, Mom will instantly jump to re-arrange / re-align the “visually-offending” table, besides shooting a murderous glare at me. Ditto for best friend, who will wring her hands if I chance to “drop” a tissue on the floor, try her best to assume an unaffected / nonchalant look about her, and the minute I turn, spring to a) fling the tissue into the garbage can and b) give me a homily on my affinity for resembling a certain porcine creature (the latter designed to send me into peals of laughter, much to her ire)...

Even on the sets of “The Apprentice,” Donald Trump would arrive with a family-sized bottle of sanitizer, and desist from shaking hands with anyone. Such is his mysophobia( fear of contamination) that he washes his hands every half an hour or so, a la our very own Lady Macbeth. What guilt or long suppressed conscience is plaguing him is quite another story…

The closely-resembling a Greek God, David Beckham, has an OCD for symmetry. Something which has wreaked havoc upon his personal life, and caused his usually tight-lipped anorexic wife to speak out. He insists on lining-up his shirts hue-wise. Fair enough. Except that it doesn’t end there. His sprawling mansion houses three refrigerators – one for food, one for snacks, and one for drinks, all coordinated down either side. Wait, there’s more. If his fridge stocks three cans of some drink, he’d rather throw one than keep three – such is his penchant for even numbers (and abhorrence for their odd counterparts). A certain Ms. Gurinder Chadha should really have re-considered naming that delightful movie, “Align it like Beckham.” Tee hee

A close friend, I have observed, has this long-running pattern where she will twirl her hair constantly while conversing. While I find it amusing and indulgently overlook it, some may be annoyed. A friend back in college had to re-apply the war paint on her face every hour. Why she was addicted to the touching-up, when anyway most of it was intact, and more importantly smudge-proof, completely beat me.

A common scene is men adjusting their belts or pulling up their trousers / jeans every now and then. While this may be appropriate for those who swear by their anti-fit Levis, it does seem a tad ludicrous when middle-aged, office executives become the newest addicts. Then you have those who believe that trousers are the best shoe-brushes known to mankind. So there you are holding a serious conversation when all of a sudden, their right leg goes behind their left trouser leg, and lo and Behold! A vigorous shoe-shine has just been done, all within ten seconds. Shoe-shine boys be damned.

Another breed are the adjusters. They adjust anything and everything – their car rear-view mirrors, ties, spectacles, watch, caps you name it. There are those who straighten their ties countless times in a day, giving a whole new meaning to the term “tie-breaker” altogether!

Best guy friend recounted how one of his friends, a budding mathematician no doubt, had an unusual pastime while driving. He would read the numbers of licence plates on cars, and do the works with them – add, multiply, subtract, and divide them with each other. Once the car in front would slow down, or he would overtake it, his interest would wane – till he espied another licence plate. Then his interest would be reinstated.

I have come across more than a fair share of people who repeat words, many of which are often superfluous. Common examples are – like, basically, generally, usually, obviously, suffixing “no” after every sentence, sorry, etc, all of which certainly sound grating on one’s ears.

There are many who count poles or temples while traveling. While some of these eccentricities may be innocuous enough, there are some that border on the bizarre.

Billy Bob Thornton, known more for his failed marriage to Angelina Jolie, and the idiosyncratic marriage vows and rituals he shared with her, is also known for taking his mail out of the mailbox and putting it back repeatedly. Cameron Diaz, “destined” for a life of OCD, is committed to washing her hands incessantly, and for making it a point to open all doors with her elbows, thanks to her inordinate fear of germs. Leonardo Di Caprio takes superstition to a new level altogether, and is known to retrace his steps to avoid cracks on pavements.

There you are. I guess if you’d only analyze a bit, you’d find some of your own petty foibles. Now if you shake your head, and gloat that you have none, I’d just say that your analysis could do with some more depth.

While you go ponder over your own quirks, let me go and check one last time if the door is thoroughly locked, count my steps to the kitchen (they should be twelve and no more), pick my good luck green bottle, lay it on my right, and call it a day! Whew!