A nail-biting situation

I have a problem. It's not the kind of earth-shattering dilemma like deciding which kind of ice cream to buy, but it’s a close one. This monumental problem is notorious for spreading icky, invisible bacterial blobs like this and for causing Armageddon cute little arguments in your marriage.

No, this isn’t about leaving the toilet seat up or forgetting to brush your teeth. It’s the classic nail-biting habit, which, according to the guys in white coats, stems from fear, anxiety, boredom or stress.

This unbreakable habit has sort of become a contentious issue between me and … someone who shall not be named. For years, this person has commented (in the most loving ways) on what a disgusting habit it is and has pleaded with calmly asked me to quit biting my nails. As if it’s that easy.

Now I understand that this looks like an easy habit to break — if you don’t actually suffer from this affliction. Hmmf! Do you think us nail-biters enjoy having our fingers look like they just emerged from a Tim Burton movie? Do you think we don’t notice when people glare at us as we shrink and hide while we discreetly nibble on our nails’ edges? We can’t help it that there aren’t “treatment centers” for the likes of us (and if there are such facilities, please let me know!). In fact, have you ever thought that maybe your disgust for our torn apart unattractive fingers actually creates more fear, anxiety and stress that perpetuate the very habit you disdain? Well, sirs and madams, maybe you’re the problem. Or maybe we just need to clamp down (no pun intended…or was it?) and kick this dirty habit.

Still, I’ve decided that after approximately 23 years of biting my nails, it’s time to take control. I know I will never be a hand model for some kind of nail polish commercial, but I should at least try to remove my name from “The World’s Nastiest Fingernails” list. I want to stroll down Main Street (or wherever) and proudly display my fingernails to passersby who can’t help but gasp at my neatly trimmed cuticles instead of fleeing from my ghastly-ghoul hands.

After much research, I’ve discovered that it boils down to willpower. Well, I’ve definitely proven to have an immense amount of willpower, especially when it comes to food, Pokemon cards and Beanie Babies. “Experts” also recommend painting your nails (done) and coating your fingers in something that makes you want to vomit (I’ll put that on my next grocery list).

There is also a lot of talk about getting to the root of the problem. Why do you bite your nails? Is it because you had a traumatizing first day of school (Yes, it was terrifying waking up each morning knowing I had to face — eek, gasp — my brothers while my mother homeschooled us)? Or maybe you have some psychological issues (some might argue I do). In reality though, I do it because I’m bored, stressed or hungry (No, I don’t eat my nails). It’s that simple.

I just wish breaking the habit was as easy.

Thanks for the tip, mom

I could have died today. And yes no, I’m not being melodramatic.

Let me start from the beginning. I was driving into work this morning, daydreaming about what I would eat for lunch writing a really sophisticated story today, when suddenly I heard my cell phone ringing. It was nearly 8 a.m., so I was pretty sure I had won the lottery…or my mom was calling me for some reason.

It wasn’t the lottery (clearly, because you would have heard a cry of joy resound across the region). It was my mother, which still could be considered "winning the lottery" by having the best mom ever, right? [insert cheesy “Awww”]

As soon as I answered the phone I heard my mom’s excited voice exclaim, “Where are you? Do you want a tip for a juicy story?!?!?” Um, yes please.

Apparently there was an armed man suspected of robbery roaming the immediate area of my parents’ business [Gruber Pallets Inc, where all your pallet needs are met]. Several squad cars arrived at my parents’ business, jumped out of their vehicles donning bulletproof vests and rifle-like machinery in hand (according to an anonymous source) and surrounded the building. GPI had to go under lockdown while officers searched the area.

I arrived at the Gazette and briefed my editor on the situation. I figured I’d probably make some calls to find out more information, but nay, my editor instructed me to grab the camera and head over to the scene where a potential gun-toting madman was hiding out. Let’s just say I was pretty excited.

As I grabbed my camera and notepad I had visions of me speeding (yet safely) to the action scene. The wind was howling as I drove past empty fields and a Holiday gas station. I was mentally preparing myself to blend in with my surroundings (which would consist of woods and open fields). Then I was kicking myself for not ever taking any self-defense classes, but what can you do. I knew I was a scrappy fighter and would use the resources around me (e.g. my high-healed ruffley shoe).

I also began reviewing potential moves like rolling on the ground and climbing trees to outsmart the suspect. None of that was ever necessary, but it doesn’t hurt to mentally prepare yourself for any scenario.

All ended well, pretty much anyways. I interviewed the commander of the local Sheriff’s Office. The suspect is still on the loose, but I’ll leave that to the local authorities (until they call begging me for my stellar investigative skills). I also got to “interview” the owners of GPI (a.k.a. mom and dad) while they excitedly recounted probably their biggest “adventure” ever in the past 20 years.

And when it’s all said and done, you’ve got to feel like an accomplished reporter when you receive this sort of breaking news tip from your mother.

The rivalry

You could call it a friendly, family game night. Or you could call it the breeding ground for the greatest rivalry of all time.

Forget Rocky vs. Drago, Inigo Montoya vs. The Six-Fingered Man or Marty McFly vs. Biff. My rivalry runs much deeper, for it is blood against unrelated blood.

His alias is the Buzzinator (Yes, that is correct). Don’t be fooled by the fact that he is the volunteer coordinator for a non-profit and also a youth pastor at his local church. Below the surface is a sinister game-genius who must be defeated.

After all, Competition is not solely for geniuses, athletes like Tim Tebow or beauty pageant contestants like someone we’ve never heard of Alyssa Campanella. Competition is for man, woman and beast alike.

This rivalry began over a simple game of Buzzword. Essentially, there are two teams. Let's say the Buzzword is “ball”. You and your teammates have 45 seconds to solve 10 clues, and all the answers contain the word ball. There’s more to it than that, but you get the gist.

Now anyone who knows me knows that I am an incredibly awesome decent game player. I can hold my own, but for some reason I am 2-6 against the Buzzinator and his team.

After so many (lost) games I figured it was time for a new game. Plus, we really should give my pride the rest of the players a fighting chance. The Buzzinator agreed and that was his first mistake [insert evil gleeful laugh].

We pulled out the old classic game of Guesstures (a.k.a. charades). It’s always been a fan-favorite and frankly it was time we all shut our mouths and let our inner Nick Cage’s loose (he’s dramatic, right?).

Well, that did the trick. The Buzzinator was dethroned. Two games. 100 points. My team (Team Batman, thanks to my nephew agreeing to be our team mascot) smoked Team A by more than 20 points each game.

I’m not sure what gave my team the edge. It could be the fact that I can act like a buffoon (or for some, a monster) like no other. Or it could be that I have finally found my arch-nemesis’ weak point: charades. Regardless, Team Batman triumphed and I shall never forget it. Seriously, I won’t forget it because that’s how I spent my New Year’s Eve.

While that game night was the best way to end 2011, I know this isn’t the end. Until we meet again, Buzzinator.

p.s. I would like to thank Team Batman for making my 2012 dream come true.