I’m not traditionally a man’s man. I’m not effeminate, either.
My condo is usually less than perfectly clean, I don’t spend more than 30 seconds on my hair (brushes and combs are lame), and once a week I go to sleep without brushing my teeth.
I don’t use any moisturizer on my face nor do I wear cologne.
But I also have never slept in a tent or gone hunting. I don’t watch sports and during the Superbowl I have to ask which team has the dark jerseys. Then I have to ask what the other team’s name is.
I probably fall in the middle when it comes to masculinity.
One thing that sends me screaming like a little girl at a Debbie Gibson concert, though, is when someone cracks their knuckles.
Desperately need to update my pop culture references. The obvious choice would have been Justin Bieber but something about him really creeps me out.
Let’s face it – cracking your knuckles is gross.
Only twice in my life have I had my knuckles cracked and they were both by other people. In both instances I freaked out after the first one and refused to participate further.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. I was getting a massage in Santa Fe recently, and the woman cracked each of my toe knuckles. No jive. It was so weird. But I went with it.
When I hear someone cracking their knuckles, my face gets pale for a second. I recover quickly usually by thinking about something more pleasurable, like the pizza I am going to binge on that evening.
To me cracking your knuckles in public is a distant cousin of picking your nose.
But am I the only one who gets fouled out at knuckle cracking?
Let’s say “no” so that I don’t feel so alone.
