It's the little things...

As some may have noticed, I often wear a tan vest. It's an outdoorsy thing with lots of pockets and zipper and snaps, and typically gets me asked if I'm fisherman or a hunter. Alas, no, I explain -- I just like all the pockets, and wouldn't know a fishing pole from a thirty-aught-six if you goosed me with one. Or the other.

Anyway, this vest is handy because it's got a pocket for my phone, and another for business cards, and another for a notepad, and another for jelly beans, and . . . well, you get the idea. One of the pockets holds my iPod, which I own in order to prove how "hip" and "with it" and "now" I am. Groovy, man. That said, I do also use my iPod for listening to stuff, but I have this problem. Whenever I want to use it, I reach into my cool vest pocket and fish out the tangle of ear bud wires. And they're ALWAYS tangled. It doesn't matter how carefully I wrapped them them, or how long they've been in my pocket. They're always a freaking mess. Plus, once I get done untangling them, the buds ALWAYS end up situated with my left in my right hand and the right bud in my left hand.

Now, sure, this probably seems like a little thing. But, come on, shouldn't random chance provide me with the buds properly oriented about half the time, post tangle? Is that too much to ask? (Here is where I shake my fist dramatically at the heavens. And then a bird poops on me.)

In the big scheme of things, this is nothing. But this is the kind of thing I'll write down in my little notebook and, who knows, maybe in some future story some character will get so frustrated by his iPod Ear Bud Misalignment Syndrome that he wigs out and commits acts of dramatic, plot-advancing mayhem. Or maybe not. I have tons of these. Small details which may illuminate character. Sometimes they make it into a story, more often not. Still, they're one of the fun things about being a writer. In a way, they make me a kind of collector. Here are some other items from my collection of weirdnesses, pulled right from the notebook as is. (Not all of these are MY weirdnesses; use of the word "my" could be anyone. Really.)

• The song "Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult stuck in my head for over a month.


• That cowlick . . . Never. Settles. Down.


• Even my missing finger likes Starbucks.


• Woman with wavy, dark hair, highlighted in red, wearing a black leather biker jacket, while capri pants, and carrying a purple parasol on a sunny day.


• Green velour floor-length cloak, hood, leather clogs peeking out from underneath, in line at the hotdog stand.


• Bald head as knobby as a blackberry. (The fruit, not the electronic device.)

So let's hear about weirdnesses from your collection. And I don't assume for a minute that only writers make note of such idiosyncratic elements of human minutiae. We've all seen 'em. Hell, we all have 'em! So let's have some fun.

(Oh, any by the way: yes, I actually can tell a fishing pole from a rifle. I ain't THAT daft.)