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“You're projecting.” - Wife Number Two, the Counselor
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I know this seems to be a recurring motif, but in my younger years, I wasn't too swift. Oh sure, I had my IQ points and I did well in…
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The lungs provide our bodies with life-giving oxygen. The heart pumps our blood, the kidneys filter our system, the eyes provide visual representations of the world around us. We've even…
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Kids always find ways to rebel against older generations. They do it through music and art and hair styles and more obviously, through clothing fashions. For instance, do you tuck…
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Everyone remembers a couple bullies from their school years. But there's usually one in particular that always stands out. He was the meanest, snottiest excuse for a human being on…
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It's true. The world's spelling acuity, and America's in particular, has suffered immensely due to one major reason. The advent of the Internet.
This new medium has single-handedly opened…
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Second grade. His name was Marvin. He was in first grade but he was my age. He either failed or was held back or started late. And no, I don't…
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I want to know something. Who invented the bathroom exhaust fan? I'll tell you, a genius, that's who. A veritable God among men. Whoever it was may have inadvertently saved…
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I have no ass. At all. I'm 35 and my ass has left me flatter than my mattress. It just took off one day without writing or saying goodbye....
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It's every humor writer's goal to write humor that is not only funny, but lasts a lifetime. A good humorist strives to make his experiences in life relatable and enjoyable…
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I heard someone talking yesterday about how this pastor and his church owned half a city block and had a membership of more than five thousand people. By "Big City"…
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Written by Ross Cavins
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Thursday, 28 February 2008 08:53 |
 The First Knuckle Method.
That's my politically correct term for nose picking. I call it booger mining. Ingenious, huh? Conjures up visions of midgets with hardhats and lanterns, singing camp songs as they descend into the depths of a nasal cavity for another toiling day of mining. For boogers.
These people I speak of, they pick their noses in public. On the street. In a car. In a deli. In a bar.
My Dr. Seuss impersonation.
These public booger miners either a) don't care if you see them digging out a juicy green gob of goo, or b) don't realize anyone is watching them stick their finger in up to the first knuckle.
They think they have a personal shield around them that renders their actions invisible. Like going the speed limit in a car means no one can see them digging around for that slimy one that you can never really get a good grip on because there's no true nucleus. It's just a smushy gelatinous glob of mucus that squishes under your finger, then surrounds it like you're starring in a sci-fi movie.
These people think that once they get the elusive offender out, they can flick it away or wipe it on a hidden portion of their pants (or dress) and it never happened. Like it didn't count or something.
Like the five second rule when you drop a candy bar on the ground. If you pick it up quick enough, it never occurred. You can still eat it because you got it before the germs had a chance to know it was there and latch on.
But then again, you've got snot on your fingers, so why the hell are you so damned worried about floor germs?
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