Strange Habit #1

I've come to the realization that as people, we all have quirks and habits that make us all unique and different in our own special, snowflake-esque ways. But I tend to do lots of strange shit, either out of habit or just spontaneous occurrence that happens entirely too often. Sometimes I think to ask other people if they have these impulses or happenstances such as these, but I can already formulate what two reactions everyone I associate myself would have. I would either receive a look of great stupor for an uncomfortable period of time or I would be privy to their own habit that is exponentially more disturbing and possibly illegal in all but a handful of countries. And I would have no way to record their priceless reactions unless I type this shit out and make my oddness known.

It's fairly common knowledge that some folks, mostly women from my findings, like to blare the radio or a CD while enjoying the relaxing sensation of a shower. In some instances, these people grab the closest microphone-like object, such as a shampoo bottle or a loofa, and begin to croon into it like a professional backup singer for someone marginally talented, except they're covered in soap suds, in the nude, and off-key. Just like the movies. But does anyone ever get the urge to spring into action mid-cleansing, throwing haymakers at the running water like some shower gelled-up version of Steven Seagal, pretending to fend off a would-be serial sodomizer that just so happened to storm into my bathroom of all places? The answer is yes: I do.

Not that I fantasize about a guy breaking into my house trying to take my anal virginity by force. That's just a scenario from movies or ADT commercials that happens to be in my mental lexicon of "Shit That Might Happen If This Door Busts Open While Washing My Ass." Sometimes it's a small-time felon trying to steal my shit and erase my existence as to not have a witness. Sometimes it's my next-door neighbor/correctional officer landlady who's gotten fed up with the constantly loud television day in and day out and the 3am pow-wows set up in the parking lot outside of her front door and feels the need to take out some frustration. Sometimes it's a gang of sexy ninjas looking to have their way with me. No matter the situation, I'll be limber enough to hold my own.

I should probably clarify that I don't go full on karate class in the shower. Just a few one-two combinations, an uppercut here or there. Maybe ten punches thrown, twenty at tops. I don't have a planned out routine down when I hop in the shower with the mindset to shadowbox twelve rounds with the showerhead. It's something that spontaneously comes to me, like scratching my nose or cracking my knuckles.

I can't rationalize exactly why I do this. Maybe it's from the tens of thousands of action movies I've seen throughout the years and the shower is a personal escape where I can act like a jackass privately. Or maybe because I'm paranoid of someone actually dropkicking my door in and becoming the next victim of a serial killer who's yet to be caught, being left lifeless, cold, and buck naked on the tile floor for my roommate to find me.

Now, I'm a man of sizable girth and some semblance of muscle tone, so that situation is fairly unlikely, but I'd feel like a punk bitch being murdered in my own damn shower by some drug addict tripping balls on something that most likely would endow him with retard strength for a window of time. I mean, if they showed my face taglined with "Victim" on the 11 o'clock news, I'd rather have a picture of a raging 'roid addict or a towering fat slob wide enough to block the bathroom door next to me captioned as "Murderer", not some rail-thin tweaker with missing teeth and reeking of urine who makes it a habit to sleep on park benches and digging through trashcans for nourishment.

And that is why I must continue training in the confines of my shower stall. Because if I get overpowered by a man half my size and end up in a bodybag, the terrorists win. Yeah, I had no idea how to end this, so I'm just going to leave it at that.

For starters.

Foreword: I came very close to not even starting this thing to begin with. I still don't have a reason as to why I actually registered (with falsified information. shh.) or what I intend to do with this page, but I suppose there's time for all of that shit to get hashed out if this works out well enough. I'm horrible at finishing things that I begin, even with the best of intentions. Old habits die hard.

So, I suppose an introduction is in order. I'm Manny, a run-of-the-mill twenty-four year old guy. I curse at the most inappropriate times, I smoke near small children, I drink like it's going out of fucking style. I listen to cliched rock music and ninety-percent of my wardrobe consists of polos, t-shirts with asinine sayings, and old blue jeans. I play XBox religiously and pirate media incessantly. I hate work and love sleeping in. I love having conversations that are deeper than current events and crude potty humor, but it takes some cunning to get me to open up. My favorite sports teams are from New York and anyone from Massachusetts is automatically filed under asshole unless proven otherwise.

I'm sure I'm forgetting some key characteristics, but I'm going to assume they'll eventually be brought out by rants and tirades. I'm actually surprised I made it this far for an opening post. This might pan out after all...