THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, October 15, 1995 TAG: 9510110073
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY CHARLISE LYLES, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 169 lines
JOE RUSSELL says he always puts the seat back down after he's done.
Aside from endearing Russell to women everywhere, that neat little habit makes him a pretty normal kind of guy, according to a new paperback compendium of America's quirks and compulsions called ``Are You Normal?''
It surveys the habits of Americans from personal hygiene to eating, driving, ethics (or lack thereof) and sex (or lack of that, too).
Author Bernice Kanner, a New York City-based business and marketing columnist, compiled this manual of normality, which attempts to provide a statistical portrait of typical American behavior.
Foreigners or newly arrived aliens could certainly clear up any confused first impressions by grabbing the $6.99 book published by St. Martin's Press.
For example, should they bump into someone flossing with a strand of hair, they would know that seven out of 100 Americans admit to flossing their teeth with hair.
Or that nearly two of every five families with children keep a firearm in the house.
Or that, on average, we cuss 16 times a day.
Or that about one in four of us freely nibbles grapes, cherries, loose candies and nuts while grocery shopping.
Or that 45.5 percent of pet owners allow their dog or cat in the room during hanky-panky.
Here are some Hampton Roads profiles of normality or abnormality. Take your pick.
Bathroom behavior
Russell, a salesman at S&K Famous Brand Men's Wear at Pembroke Mall in Virginia Beach, thought his potty politeness made him an exceptional guy.
``I got trained by my first wife to put the seat back down. I guess that is abnormal for a man,'' said Russell, a boastful grin under his neatly trimmed mustache. ``It gives the bathroom a nice fresh look.''
Not exactly. According to Kanner, 46 percent of guys swear by survey that they put the seat down when they're done. Many a woman who has stumbled into an icy porcelain bowl in the dark would question that.
``And toilet tissue should come from the bottom, not the top,'' said Russell. ``But I know a lot of women who roll from the top, not the bottom. I've even heard preachers say that women squeeze toothpaste from the middle and roll tissue from the top. That's abnormal.''
Wrong again, Joe.
More than 50 percent insert the roll so the paper can be pulled from over the top. And it's not a gender thing, either. Only a fourth pull from underneath.
Russell does measure up as normal when it comes to public potties. Most of us will use them.
But disdain is widespread and seems to be a regional thing: 42.7 percent of Southerners versus 39.7 percent of Northeasterners swear they wouldn't put their bottoms on a public toilet if it was lined with aluminum foil, let alone that noisy tissue paper.
Russell volunteered a few other habits that confirmed his normality.
Like six out of 10 Americans, he doesn't floss daily. ``It's too time-consuming.''
And when nobody's around, Russell drinks straight from the two-liter Coke bottle or milk carton - ``even when my wife says don't do it.'' He joins 47 percent of us who put our lips to the lid or eat ice cream right out of the carton.
``But,'' said Russell, ``if you really think about it, nobody's normal.''
Two hands on the wheel? Ha! It's too much to ask.
Fifty-five percent of women bother, while just 35 percent of men use both paws, says the book.
Norfolk investment banker John Benedict is not among them, which makes him supernormal, in this case. What's he doing with the other? ``It depends,'' said Benedict. ``It's a talented hand.''
Gearshifts, radios and car phones occupy most people's other hand. Or it's just resting in the window, dangling in the wind. Bet that hand is involved with food a lot of the time.
Like 54 percent of Americans, Benedict is surprisingly restrained when he is cut off at the pass - no cursing, no namecalling. And no middle digit. ``I'm sympathetic,'' he said, ``because I cut people off all the time.''
But Benedict doesn't seem to encounter passive types like himself. ``People usually cuss me out
- I can see their lips moving,'' said Benedict, whose sandy, gray-flecked hair suggests middle-age serenity.
``Or they give me the finger, which is ridiculous. I don't need the emotional release.''
The ultimate act of highway dereliction is beneath Benedict. Though one in six of us would hitch up behind a police car or ambulance to cut through traffic faster, Benedict wouldn't, couldn't bring himself to do that.
He deviates from most road warriors when it comes to keeping the old tank full. Less than half of us have ever run out of gas.
``Five years ago, I pushed it to the limits. I was coming home on 64, about 2 a.m. from a party in Suffolk. A nice sheriff's deputy took me to get gas and paid for it.''
Benedict now drives a Toyota Land Cruiser with a five-gallon reserve tank.
He joins about one in four of us for a monthly car wash. That makes him a far cry more normal than the 5 percent of Americans who say they never wash their cars.
Away from the road, Benedict has another interesting habit. He blows spit bubbles. ``When I'm on the stair climber, there's nothing else to do.'' He's not alone. One in five of us is a skilled spit-bubble blower. CLEANLINESS
Margaret Shannon of Portsmouth makes up her bed as soon as she rises at 4 a.m. to head to work as a waitress at Norfolk's DoNut Dinette. She's normal.
But nearly one in four of us leaves the sheets crumpled. Five percent never smooth the covers.
Like most Americans, Shannon changes her sheets weekly. A sick subculture of about 3 percent actually changes sheets daily. And half of us use fresh towels every day. That's a lot of laundry.
Shannon certainly doesn't drink out of the carton, and she definitely flosses. Everything in Shannon's Cavalier Manor home has its place. That sounds like the neatly dressed woman in a hairnet is somewhat compulsive. But that's normal.
``If there's no place for it, then you don't need it,'' said Shannon. ``My husband is junky. He keeps things from World War I.''
``My worst habit,'' she said, ``is probably telling my children and husband how to be neat all the time. That's nagging, but that's how I am.''
With cleanliness as the main cause of her spousal disputes, Shannon is unusual. ``We don't fight over money because we don't have any.''
But about 29 percent of couples say they fight most over money, usually their significant other's spending habits. Next, couples spar over which TV show to watch, and over spending time together.
Her best habit, says Shannon, is being on time. ``I just can't stand to be late. It's not businesslike to me. Any place I go I want to be on time.'' ETHICS (OR LACK THEREOF)
Most Americans have quit the habit of telling the truth.
Nine out of 10, or 91 percent, concede to regular fibbing, from little white lies to big, premeditated prevarications. And 45 percent of us don't have any ethical problems with untruths.
And some are downright addicted. One out of five of us admits to being unable to make it through the day without one juicy lie.
For Kimber Davis, an emergency room worker at Virginia Beach General Hospital, lies have their place when it comes to sparing others' feelings.
``Everybody fibs,'' said Davis, 26, as her mother looked on. ``If you ask me if my hair color is real, I'm going to say yes.''
``I wouldn't,'' said her mother, Jewel Davis.
Or, said the daughter, ``if my best friend asked me if I like her fiance, I'd say, `Yeah, sure. He's OK.' You don't want to intentionally hurt someone's feelings.''
The biggest lie Americans tell is giving a false name and telephone number, one an attractive Kimber Davis admits to. A little fibbing can be convenient, especially on the singles scene.
``One time my sister-in-law and I went out and we were giving guys names from soap operas. We said we were from The Valley in California and my name was Brooke and hers was Taylor from `The Bold and the Beautiful.' Or you can tell them you're from Idaho or something.''
Honesty in hotels also plays a part in most of our ethics profiles. Fifty-eight percent of us concede that we'd purloin a towel or two if we thought we could get away with it.
Davis hasn't. But her ex-boyfriend did. ``He's a pilot,'' she said. ``So yeah, I had a lot of Hilton towels. They are so nice and thick. When we broke up, he took most of them, like that was going to offend me.''
And do we believe there will be payback for such sins of normality? You bet. Nine out of 10 us believe in divine retribution. However, two-thirds don't think we'll actually burn in hell for all our bad habits. ILLUSTRATION: SAM HUNDLEY/Staff
Photo
MORT FRYMAN/Staff
Joe Russell says he puts the toilet seat down after he's done. That
puts him among only 46 percent of American men. ``I got trained by
my first wife,'' says the men's wear salesman.
by CNB