Why It Is So Very Hard To Be Me

I am a vigorous nose blower and sneezer. I always have been. My theory has always been that if you can't feel or hear it, you aren't really blowing your nose or sneezing. Besides, these are two of the rare times in your life when you're allowed to get totally out of control and it is completely socially acceptable. Orgasms and tax audits being two of the other times. I actually loathe people who sneeze like cute little cartoon bunny rabbits. And the worst are the people that go through this huge pre-hurricane inhalation, only to end up not letting any of the sneeze out. AH AH AH AH AH......nothing. I swear that one of these days my buddy K is going to blow his own head clean off his shoulders. Kind of like if Scanners had a Persian character.

Anyway, I digress.

So I'm making with the thundering nose blow today and as a consequence of said nose blow, there is oft' much tissue residue on my shirt. Yes, I have to blow the foghorn that hard to make sure all the sinus critters have left the building. Because of the kleenex shrapnel, I am forced to dust myself post sneeze-fest. I always do this. Well, today as I'm making with the hanky decontamination, I am dusting myself off so veraciously, I dust one of the buttons of my shirt clean off. It's a little disconcerting to actually hear the post-sneeze residue hit the floor. It was then that I realized what I had done.

Either I need to consider cutting down on the Frappucinos or I may need counseling for my inner desire to flash my co-workers.