First off, let me say that no Jackie Waffles were harmed during the making of the Halloween story from last week. I got a couple of concerned emails asking me if Jackie was, in fact, dead. (Thank you guys, you were so sweet to be concerned.)I just took this pic on my phone which should prove that Lord Lardass is alive and well and shedding on my couch. It is not neccessary to weep for him.
Absolutely not dead! Just sleeping.
Please weep for me though. I need lots and lots of sympathy as I have a hideous cold! Well, it's not too terrible I guess, but it still sucks. My throat is a bit scratchy and my nose is slightly runny and this morning I hacked and snorfled for a good ten minutes before finally spitting up a giant gooey loogie. It was really gross! So much so that I was tempted to take a picture of it to post, but finally decided against it in case it put someone off their food. See how much I care for you my friends?
All that throat clearing reminded me of the sounds my grandpa used to make when he woke up. He'd always start the day with at least a half hour of chest-rumbling coughing and horking noises while scratching himself, before lighting up his first Camel unfiltered of the day. Gak!
It's been a long time since I've had a cold, I'd forgotten how unpleasant they are. This is because I usually follow my mommy's advice about washing my hands a lot and not touching my face unless my hands are clean. It figures the one time I didn't resulted in getting sick. But I swear to you, I couldn't help it! I absolutely had to pick my nose. There was really no other choice.
What happened was this, on Friday night I went to a big fancy Halloween party given by a couple I don't know all that well. It was all very chichi and swank and I felt a little out of my element but was doing okay, chatting and mingling, when I became aware of some bad things happening in my nasal cavity.
You know that feeling you get when a booger works it's way down to where it's just about to pop out of your nose and go flying when you laugh? And is most likely right that very minute hanging out of your nostril, moving in and out when you breathe, while everyone politely tries not to stare at you in horror but can't help themselves?
Yeah, I had that feeling. And I could tell it was a great big one.
So I excused myself and began frantically looking for a bathroom in order to extract the dried mucus in private. Naturally, naturally, the hostess spied me and picked that moment to bring over about fifty people to introduce me to.
It was so awful! I kept sniffing and sniffling, trying desperately to suck the snot rocket back in but it wouldn't budge. I ended up surreptitiously swiping at my nose every two seconds while smiling and making nice to these poor folks - who probably thought me the world's biggest coke head - but I swear I could feel it hanging there. It was maddening. My fingers itched to go picking.
Finally, I managed to get away only to find the bathroom occupied with a big line in front of it.
Screw it! I was about to leave when I spotted my best friend, Paula Abdul, flirting with a waiter over by the stairs.
"Dude, am I jagging a snootch?" I demanded, grabbing her arm, which caused her to spill a little champagne on the carpet. I was sorry about that but it was an emergency.
"Huh, what?" Paula gave me a confused look.
"You know, is the princess out of it's castle? Am I hanging a greenie?" I was trying to use the polite terms for my condition, but she wasn't getting it so I just came out and asked. "Is there a visible booger hanging out of my nose? I mean, of course there is. But exactly how huge is it?"
She peered at my face intently. "I don't see anything."
"What? There's got to be. Look harder." I swear I could feel it hanging down like a stalagcite from my schnoz. Or do I mean stalagmite? I forget which one points down.
"Honestly Pru, you're fine!"
By that point I'd had it. I figured Paula was drunk and just couldn't see it, and I was sick of this shit. I shoved a finger up there and stated digging for gold, not caring who saw.
Everybody picks, even the queen.
Paula was horrified. "Stop it, Pru! There isn't anything there!" She pawed through her purse and handed me a small mirror. "See nothing."
Well, I'll be! She was right, there wasn't anything hanging out of my nose. It was a ghost booger, I guess.
As soon as I saw that there was no boog, that awful jagged snootch feeling went away. Which was a great relief for about three seconds until it was quickly replaced with deep embarrassment when I realized how many people had witnessed my nose farming. Dozens! It took several drinks and one of Paula's Vicodins to get me able to laugh about it.
Poor Paula though! I kinda ruined the rest of the party for her. She caught my nasal paranoia and spent the rest of the evening guarding against booger slips.
Paula figured it was better to be safe than sorry.
I'll apologize later after my cold medicine kicks in. How was your weekend?