Excuse me, is that a lizard in your nose?

I know I'm not the only person who has had this happen because I have witnessed the dilemma from both sides of the table.
The other day I spent a few minutes chatting with a buddy  after church. Nothing odd or embarrassing about that – well, wait for it.
The conversation was not the problem. The problem was I had a booger hanging from my nose that was just slightly smaller than a Smart Car.
I had no idea this Green Monster of Ick was crawling its way out of my nose ready to destroy the world like a Canadian version of The Blob.
However, as soon as I ran into the Missus, she kindly pointed out I had this thing sticking out. The only thing that kept it from escaping completely was my abundant nostril hair.
Now, the question is: was the Booger of Doom hanging out the entire time I was talking to my buddy, or did it get loose after the conversation?
He never said anything about it, so maybe it wasn’t there. But if I were on the other side of the situation would I mention it?
“Hi, Brian, how are ya? Good to see you. By the way, you have a giant snot slinky slithering out of your nose. So, how are the wife and kids?”
It is not something you can casually slip into a conversation without the recipient of the news feeling at least somewhat embarrassed. And once the protruding bit of nose phlegm is pointed out, what then?
Does the bearer of the booger just go macho and wipe it away with his hand? If he does, will you shake his hand at the end of the conversation?
I thought not.
He could excuse himself, head to the nearest box of tissues and rein in the offending piece of matter, which is probably the most sanitary and least disgusting thing to do.
Of course, the conversation is over at that point. "Sorry, pal, I’ll be right back I just have to shake this booger loose.”
Not many conversations get restarted after such an interruption, unless the conversation is about boogers hanging from your nose.
If so, you have the perfect conversation starter at hand, or rather, in nose, or should it be partway out of the nose? I don’t know; booger etiquette has never been my strong suit.
When you are a kid, having a greenie hanging out is a topic of laughter from the boys and, usually, an ‘Ewwww, gross’ from the girls. Why boys find gross things funny is a topic for another column. But the younger the kid, the less they care about nasal discharge.
Every parent has seen their kids come home with glassy sleeves. To a kid, sleeves were invented to be portable tissues. What other purpose do they serve than to slide across your nose? To a kid, none. Being a snot collector is about all they do.
And children use the full length of the forearm – from elbow to wrist – without so much as a second thought.
Hey, I can remember being far too busy playing to go find a tissue and wipe my honker every few minutes. Besides, I had these cool sleeve things that were the perfect built-in tissue.
The sleeve device was always with me, I had two of them should one lose its absorbency and I did not even have to stop playing to take care of the situation.
Of course, as an adult I now know how truly revolting walking around with a sleeve or two covered in nose goo is, which is a strong argument for washing the children’s clothes separately from the civilized people in the house.
Like death and taxes, boogers are a part of life. I just hope to avoid all three for as long as possible.

Copyright 2017, Darren Handschuh

It was (s)not a pleasant experience

I am truly impressed. I really am.
It is amazing to take note of and stunning in its volume.
I am talking about the amount of clear liquid stuff that has been flowing out of my nose like a snot waterfall.
This particular cold was a gift from my son who has been running around the house for the past week making a sound not unlike an amorous sea lion.
For days he has hacked, gacked and coughed his way through the house and I knew eventually the bug would bite me with unpleasant results.
I went to bed feeling just fine, but woke up feeling like doo-doo, if I may use a medical term.
I had been attacked and thoroughly thumped by the common cold.
I knew the moment I woke up that not all was well in Darrenland. My head felt like it was the size of one of those Macy Day Parade floats and what ever was making all that internal sinus pressure was forcing an icky liquid to evacuate the premises at an alarming rate.
Two exits, no waiting.
If there was a forest fire, all I would have to do is fly over it in a plane, hang my head out the window and blow through my nose. That clear liquid goo stuff would cover the land and smother the fire.
Gross, but effective.
I have always found the sound of someone blowing their nose to be one of the grossest sounds on the planet, just slightly ahead of a political speech only not as icky.
And I always do my best to spare an innocent world from enduring that sound by clearing my  nose in private.
But after running from my desk to the bathroom for the 100th time in an hour to blow my nose, I said screw it, grabbed some tissues and cleared the nasal passages at my desk.
I felt bad for my co-workers who had to endure the seemingly endless honking sound my nose produced as I forced even more nasal juice from my head.
It couldn't have been pleasant for them either, but what could I do.
By midday I was contemplating just hanging a bucket around my neck and letting the sinuses drain uninhibited.
Instead I went through tissue after tissue until my nose was red and trash can nearly full.
Oddly enough, no one wanted to sit next to me at the lunch table, not sure why.
For the next few days I gulped cough medicine like and addict and after about a week things were back to normal.
And no one is happier than the guy who sits across from me at work.

copyright 2014, Darren Handschuh