My very own mother was one of them. She never did it at home, but as soon as we sat down in a restaurant, she kicked me in the shins. It didn't matter if I was sitting next to her, across the room, or in the next state (Mom had long legs); she would cross her legs and -- WHACK -- I got it in the shin. My cry of pain always elicited the exact same response from her: "Sorry, darling, I thought it was the table leg." Since the waiter usually showed up about then, I naturally grew up thinking that you had to kick the table to get service, and that my mother was just a lousy shot. It wasn't until several women hobbled home from dates with me years later that someone finally told me the truth: only women are allowed to order dinner this way.

* * *

In many offices and in some homes where there are no small children, you will find people who put their pencils point up in their pencil holders (they're easy to recognize by the holes in their hands). They claim they do this so that they can tell which pencils are sharp and which aren't, but have you ever noticed that they always keep every single pencil as sharp as an ice pick? These are the very same people who put three-inch nails in a one-inch board, knives point up in the dishwasher, and straight pins anywhere. When they aren't looking, I switch their pencils with felt-tipped pens.

* * *

If there is anything I can't stand on a hot summer day, it's people who don't sweat. No matter how hot it gets, they look as cool and confortable as penguins. I, on the other hand, look something like soggy Handi-Wipes soon after I step outdoors. My shoes fill with water, my hair dies, and I begin to sprout mold. I even divide my closet into two sections: salted and unsalted. So, whenever I see one of these super-dry people approaching, I do a rain dance.

* * *

Inviting a few friends over is a good way to discover a few more people who are begging to be avoided. One couple always arrives early in hopes of catching you in the last mad throes of housecleaning, while you're hiding dirty socks in the piano bench and dirty dishes in the freezer. Failing that, they compete with each other to see which one can point out the most flaws in your house. Another guest will be a non-smoker who fills all of your ashtrays with gum wrappers. And, to balance things out, you'll have a smoker visiting who uses anything but an ashtray for his ashes. There isn't much you can do about this except to hope that our two-year-old doesn't open his mouth at the wrong time.

* * *

If you think little old ladies are harmless, you've never seen them opening push-button umbrellas on a crowded sidewalk. Multitudes go down before them. Even worse are men who swing their closed umbrellas when they walk. Getting too close to one of them can result in an unplanned vasectomy. Though cumbersome, I find that it's safest to wear a suit of armor on rainy days.

* * *

At the end of the line, so to speak, and perhaps the most obnoxious of all, are people -- and there are quite a few of them -- who drop dead without advance warning. Not so much as a toodle-oo. Obviously, this is contrary to all rules of etiquette. It is somewhat akin to walking out of the room while someone is still talking to you and it is the reverse of dropping in unannounced on someone at seven in the morning on New Year's Day. I must admit that it's difficult to complain to them about this bad habit, but I keep trying. At the very least, I do think they could have the courtesy to leave a forwarding address.