Thursday, July 21, 2011

Workplace Hazardous Persons Information System

I believe in rights. In fact, I am all about rights. The Right to Form an Uneducated and Baseless Opinion and the Right to Be an Idiot are no exception to my unwavering support of one's rights.  

But if someone chooses to take those two god-given and incontrovertible rights, and ignore the distinctive chartreuse skull-and-crossbones-slathered-with-radioactive-waste-then-stuffed-with-poison-dart-frogs-and-guarded-by-rabid-pikas-and-also-chock-full-of-trans-fats MSDS warning label that is clearly and prominently displayed on the rights, stating that those two rights should NEVER be deployed in spatial or temporal proximity to each other, and goes ahead and uses them at the same time anyways...

Well, then.

As a Class V Temper regulated under the Hazardous Products Act, I'm obligated to warn the public that I react strongly with the byproducts of Opinionated x Idiocy. However, having provided fair and reasonable notice of potential contraindication by way of my red hair (i.e., the universal symbol for Concentrated Source of Rage), I can no longer be held responsible for any consequences that may be incurred as a result of one's own stupidity.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

It's Only Onychophagia

I've been a nail-biter my whole life. For real - as far back as I can remember, someone was yelling at me to stop biting my nails. Probably been doing it since I first had teeth.

I've tried everything I can think of: nail polish; mittens; snapping a rubber band on my wrist. (Which sucks, by the way, but if I can deal with the pain of mauling my own fingernails a little rubber band isn't going to make a difference.) I've even developed a habit of sitting on one hand while I drive with the other - not sure if this is a better habit than nail-biting, but you can at least tell I'm trying. Trying to DEATH!

You know, I had absolutely no problem quitting smoking - something that's actually addictive - so you'd think that nail-biting of all things would be an easy fix. Wrong! I figure that the difference is, if I don't go to the store to buy cigarettes I just won't have them to smoke, whereas laziness and cheapness just aren't adequate disincentives when it comes to fingernails: they're always there, and they're always free.

Medium Fry discovered the solution at the drugstore the other day: an incredibly bitter liquid that you paint on to your nails like nail polish. It is so intensely bitter and disgusting that even a dedicated nail-biter like myself can't work through it. Simply apply once a day and presto - no biting.

Although it doesn't wash or flake off, the extreme bitterness in the polish transfers readily to other objects, and therefore may have the unintended consequence of curing me of several other habits I've picked up over the years. Like flossing.

And lunch.

And sex.

It's like having the Midas touch, but less lucrative.

Now, I don't much care for the looks of my mangled fingertips, but I do like lunch, and I really like flossing. DH HATES that I bite my nails, but he's enough of a tightwad that my springing for gel nails (an effective, but admittedly pricey, deterrent) really annoys him... and then there's that last item on the list.

Which brings us to an impasse.

Odds are 10:1 in favour of supporting my local nail salon. Stay tuned for results of today's match.