More odd little habits I have:
Sometimes when I see written words that are, say, 10 letters or more, I re-arrange the letters to make different words. For instance, compulsive. Pulse, vile, evil, clump…
This is the most interesting thread I have ever seen…
I am another of these people that loves even numbers. When adjusting the volume on the TV, it HAS to stop on an even number. If someone else is doing it I have been known to ask them to give it one more push to make it even.
Also, I cannot eat the pointy bit of a pizza (or anything cut into a triangle) first. I always take a bite out of the side and then eat it normally.
I collect sheet of colored cellophane, to repair old windows in collectable toy’s cartons. If the old window is yellowed with age or sunstains, the dolls or figures are not visible.
I used to turn the car window into a sort of “video game” when I was a little kid. I would use my first two fingers as legs, and make them run, jumping over cars, road signs, or any other obstacles. Those cylindrical things on top of telephone poles were “bombs” that I could use to blow up rows of parked cars or other things that couldn’t be jumped. I used to keep track of how many bombs I had from day to day.
Absolutely, I love long, long, scalding hot showers. I’m also a shower sitter. I think you’ll like it. Just make sure you don’t fall asleep. You could waste a lot of time in there, and be awaken by the water turning cold. That always spoils the whole shower for me, especially if I still have to wash up.
Sometimes, while reading, I’ll get off on a train of thought, and continue reading. While I’m processing each individual phrase, I’m not really connecting them together or comprehending what I’m reading, because I’m busy with my train of thought. Then I’ll catch myself, and have to back up, often a few pages, to start understanding again.
Oh yeah, I used to encode all my thoughts by a wierd sound replacement algorithm I devised based on the Russian alphabet. In my first few years in school, (an Xian school), my pastor would teach Russian to students before school started. All I ever picked up was the alphabet. I used to be able to recite the whole thing. Anyway, I would replace letters and sounds in regular words with counterparts based somehow on the Russian alphabet. For example, L became a hard G. This was because the Russian letter that looked like an upside down L was associated somehow with a G sound. It might have been called Gamma, but I don’t really remember. This habit persisted for years, and I had to finally force myself to break the habit because it took up too much thought, and I knew it. It was wasted effort.
I don’t like to step on sidewalk cracks either, but I guess this is fairly common.
I may have already posted this habit on this thread, but I’m not sure, but here it is again. I used to think I could wiggle my ears, but it turns out I was only just shifting my scalp back and forth. I used to think if I lied to an adult while doing this motion, they would believe the lie. It seemed to work.
OK, here ya go.
When i get a can of drink i always have to tap the top to stop it from ‘exploding’. I’ll do this for ages if i son’t actually open it.
Similarly, when i’m smoking i’ll continuously flick the butt to get rid of ash, even if there isn’t any excess there.
When i’m standing around i like to stand on the outside edges of my feet and ‘bounce’ (i.e. go fom soles to edges and back). I can’t just stand still.
I also always have to shower after having a bath, because baths don’t make you clean! you always feel ‘sticky’.
I also always have music playing in my head, not just random songs but an album. At the moment its ‘White Trash’ by NOFX. The weird thing is that i can skip tracks just like a CD player.
As for you guys who sit in the shower… you’re sick!
I hate posting to page 5 … nobody’s going to read this, especially since this thread is so old. But here goes:
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I’m an “arranger.” When sitting around with friends and partying, I must arrange everything I can touch on the table in front of me. This also happens at restaurants. The items must be balanced and geometrically “square.” It all has to be lined up, plumb, square and straight. This also happens more often when I’m not stone cold sober. But I’ll keep arranging and re-arranging until it feels “right.”
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My books and CDs are sorted by artists’ last name. Do not come over to borrow a book and mess up the pristine order. hand the book or CD back to me and I will “re-file” it.
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Along that line, my clothing in my closet is “filed” by color. However, the arrangement is not a progressive rainbow thing: contrasting colors must be next to each other. When you get dressed in the dark, the navy blue has to be separate from the black… or I’ll go to work clashing! This is a problem with tights and nylons, as they are scattered in the drawer wherever they land. I have to turn on the lights to see what color tights I’m wearing. Not an issue in the summer time when I go bare-legged, and screw those board meetings! I am NOT wearing pantyhose during the sticky Florida summers. (“Screw you guys… I’m going home.” – Eric Cartman)
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Conversely, for some strange reason, I do NOT screw the caps back on things completely. If I lived with someone else, I’m sure that would drive 'em nuts.
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I’m a creature of ritual and daily tasks have to be done in the same order, every time. For example, I put socks and shoes on in the same order, no matter what: right sock, right shoe, left sock left shoe. I can’t start with the left foot, nor can I put on both socks, then both shoes. If I wear socks at all…
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I brush my teeth in the shower. I always start on the bottom teeth, left side. Any deviation from these little rituals will result in screwing up my entire day and I will be “off.” I’ll forget appointments, errands – all hell breaks loose.
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If I run out of my drink while eating a meal, I have to stop eating – or get more to drink. If I run out of gravy for the mashed potatoes (or any sauce that’s supposed to be on something), same thing. I’m done.
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Cereal is eaten in coffee mugs – because you can’t fit enough in one to get soggy in the time it takes to eat it. The cats and the dog share the leftover milk. First the cats get spoon fed leftover cereal milk until they’re satisfied (Bitch Kitty always goes first). Then I put the mug on the floor so the dog can finish it off.
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My bedroom alarm clock is set some 14-odd minutes ahead or so. Never a round, even number, but always ahead of the other clocks in the house – with the exception of my watches, which must be set to “Conference Room Time” so I won’t be late to meetings. I set the alarm clock for 30 minutes before I actually want to get up so I can hit the snooze 3 or 4 times before the cats kick me out of bed, screaming for kibble. The dog stays in the bed until I get out of the shower.
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All three animals sleep with me in the bed, every night. The dogzilla (IRL) sleeps under the covers, with her own pillow.
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I fidget constantly and always have something in my hands to play with. Typically it’s a pen or a stress ball or something. Then, in meetings at work, I make sure I drop the item I’m fiddling with, at least three times during the meeting. Often, after someone picks up my pen a couple times, I will ask them to just leave it on the floor (I’ll pick it up later), because I’m just going to drop it again and cause yet ANOTHER disruption.
BTW, Blessedwolf does not possess the ability to allow the object I dropped to sit there on the ground. He cannot ignore it, and HAS to pick it up anyway. 
(I’m going to start dropping things just to watch him scramble to pick 'em up… Isn’t that mean? I’m kidding, Brian!)
So do I! I even feel at some level, objects “do” stuff.
For example, when I come back to my house after I’ve left in a hurry, I’m kinda touched that my house has remembered exactly how I left everything.
Also, there are a few groceries in my cupboard that refuse to be eaten. There is this very determined can of brow beans, for example. Whenever I plan to make chili, he just disappears from my cupboard. So I buy another can, and use that one. Next day, he just turns up on a back shelf, looking innocent. I secretly sympathize with him.
I also have the habit of rubbing my hands and breathe grinning through my teeth when I’m really really content and happy.
I can’t fake this, even if i tried, and my boyfriend has grown used to it and likes it.
My mother did something similar (she clapped her hands stiffly together) and my brother does it, too, only too him it means “being lost in thought”.
Don’t worry. I check this thread regularly and read all the new entries. It’s just that this thread is so damned interesting. I’m sure that there are others that do the same.
Tzel (and Dogzilla!), you’re right, I still visit this great thread and I have told friends about it, too.
I kind of like Tabasco sauce on anything, even sweet things like griddlecakes.
Also, I’ll put it into any cocktail.
First of all, I eat my food one item at a time, and I’m proud of it.
Holy cow, this is a great thread. I thought I could only think of a few things, but reading through all of your freaky quirks has reminded me of quite a few of my own freaky quirks. Here are mine, trying to stick to ones other people haven’t mentioned:
I gently shove thin things, such as the edge of a credit card, under my fingernails, pressing on the sensitive skin underneath. If one hurts more than others, I poke at that one more. I can’t tell if it’s because I enjoy the mild pain or if I’m trying to toughen it up.
I like to run things like the edge of my sheet through the spaces between my toes. I do this with the cords under my desk, too.
According to my girlfriend, I wiggle my toes damn near constantly, even in my sleep.
I take efficiency to ridiculous levels. For example, I don’t like wasting time fiddling with the shower knobs to get the water to the right temperature, so I’ve memorized how far they need to be turned for the perfect shower (I even run the hot water in the sink while it’s warming up, so I’ll know when the hot water has reached the bathroom, and I won’t get in the shower until then). Also, when cooking something in the microwave, I’ll convert times into numbers that are easier to type (so 1 minute becomes 66 seconds, a minute and a half becomes 99 seconds, 6 minutes is 5:55).
Any small motion I do a lot ends up boiled down to the absolute best way to do it. For example, when I’m in my car, I stick the cellphone in the ashtray in the center console, but specifically, it must be upside down (goes head first into the ashtray), with the display facing to the right. This is because I’ve determined that due to the location of the ringer speaker on the phone, that’s the best way for me to hear it. In addition, I’ve evaluated the different ways of reaching for and grabbing the phone with one hand, and determined the best way to do that.
When I travel, I derive a strange pleasure from being able to make it through the airport, checking in at the counter and all, while carrying all my bags myself and never setting them down (as long as I don’t inconvenience anyone else by holding up the line or whatever).
I compulsively count in binary on the fingers of my right hand. (can count up to 31 on one hand in about 4 seconds. If I use both hands, I can go up to 1023, but it takes more concentration)
I can’t comb my hair for too long. My brain has an approximate amount of time that it’s decided is appropriate for fussing with my hair. On most days, I just comb my hair and I’m done, but if it’s being particularly difficult, I can’t spend, say twice the amount of time on it. I maybe get an extra 10 seconds to try to save it, and then my brain tells me it’s time to move on to the next thing.
I can’t just drink the milk in the cereal bowl once the cereal is gone. I have to scoop it, spoonful by spoonful, like soup. It takes a while.
I can’t help but make a wincing face when I tear a head of lettuce apart. There’s absolutely nothing objectionable about the action to me, but somehow my facial muscles are attached to the feeling and sound. People watching me assume I hate lettuce.
I always try to consolidate my garbage (from, say, eating at a fast food place) into one neat package which is as small as possible (and I also do what vandal mentioned regarding sticking the torn-off piece of sugar packet inside the empty packet).
I sleep with one leg hanging out the side of the covers. This way, I can regulate my temperature based on how much of my leg is out of the covers without having to adjust too much.
I have a small (maybe 2 gallon) ice chest which I fill with water and put in the freezer. I repeat this until my freezer is as full as I can get it with large blocks of ice. I don’t keep anything else in my freezer.
While riding in elevators by myself, I walk in quick circles around the edge of the elevator. I like the idea of there being hidden security cameras watching me do mildly peculiar things.
My favorites so far:
missbunny’s mental images of words (“phil” is a top-down view of an open jar of Jif peanut butter)
They Call Me Sneeze’s consideration of lonely spoons. (I especially like quirks that drive you to act on them in strange ways, such as moving the lonely spoon to be with the others)
And three cheers to stupendous man for not putting up with programs adding icons to the system tray. (I’m not sure if that counts as odd behavior, though, considering how rational it is)
Things that take up more space than they need to bother me. Curtains that hang longer than the window get cut, as do pillow cases. I sleep in a sleeping bag because I can’t stand comforters with all that extra blanket hanging there useless. I sleep on two gymnastics matts lined up because the width of single beds bothered me. I must get rid of anything not currently in use. If I am currently using said item, but I can remember a time when I felt annoyance towards it, I must get rid of it. The thing that is troubling me now, is that after getting rid of most of the stuff in my room (this is a fairly new obsession, I used to be a pack rat. my parents did a good job, the only person I have to rebell against is myself), I find my room being too large. But I love the walls, that’s another thing. I am so obsessed with my walls. All the furniture that hasn’t yet been disposed of must be in the middle of the room so as not to mess with the beauty of my walls. They’re so flat and square. Ohhhhhhhh, I’m lusting for them now…
Count me for the tabasco thing, I’m addicted to the stuff.
I walk everywhere and whenever there’s a branch overhanging the sidewalk I have to touch a leaf or something. Makes me really uncomfortable not to. I also often repeat both sides of trivial conversations I have under my breath as I walk, like between the grocery clerk and I, and I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I also chew the inside of my cheeks. I’m not even a nervous person either, it’s just things I do.
When I am very tired and driving I will look at my watch instead of the odometer to see how fast I am going. I will also turn up the radio instead of turning up the AC/heat.
I continue conversations that I have just finished with other people… Saying things I wished I would have said.
I look at myself in the mirror and tell “someone” off, when I just can’t bring myself to address the real person.
Symmetry, symmetry, symmetry.
I constantly count the change in my tip jar to make a full dollar, which I then replace with dollar bills. If I get above five dollars, I will never change it to a five/ten/twenty dollar bill. Everything has to be dollar bills, even if I need the singles in the register.
I sometimes flex my quadraceps for every syllable uttered by myself, others, people on TV or in movies.
Variation: Counting syllables hoping that they end on an even number.
I hoard plastic grocery bags like a champ. I dare you to open the cabinet under my sink without at least ten bags falling out at your feet.
Speedometer, that is.
“Never confuse your speedometer with a clock, because the faster you go, the later you think you are.” -Jack Handey
I cannot, absolutely CANNOT eat the pointy end of a piece of pizza (or anything else cut into a triangle) first. I have to take a bite out of one side before I can eat it normally.
Don’t ask me why.
When I get ready in the morning, there’s a specific order: (1) I relieve myself. (2) Brush my teeth. (3) Get into the shower and lather up the rag with soap and wash my body. (4) Rinse the soap off my body and rinse off the rag. (5) Wash my hair. (6) Wash my face. (7) Rinse off the bathtub and walls. (8) Towel myself off. (9) Shave. (10) Do hair. (11) Put on lotion since shaving dries me out. (12) Put on deodorant. (13) Get dressed.
Always in that order. I feel that if I break the order up, something bad will happen that day and I want to start the day off on the right foot. Although, I’ve decided that it’s okay to add things into the order, such as making phone calls or eating breakfast between steps 2 and 3.
Oh, but there’s more. 
I like to eat bananas with American cheese.
I always put my left shoe on first.
I always look back at my car after parking it.
I chew on the inside of my mouth. Once you start, it’s hard to stop.
I crack my knuckles, and just about everything else.
I say goodnight to my cat, even though she couldn’t care less.
Unless I’m really hungry or in a major hurry, I eat very slowly so as to enjoy my food more. Very irritating to people I’m with.
Holy shit Inanna! I do the syllable counting, too! Except I do the counting in my head. If the counting ends on an even number, I’m very happy, at least for a second. If the counting ends on an odd number, I’ll magically find a way for it to end on an even number, like I’ll add an extra syllable to a word.