Fortunately, when I finished yesterday’s walk, I had the presence of mind to jot down a note or two before I became busy doing other things, such as reading, dozing off, and writing the Old Bourbon post, which for Mr. Techno-Stoooopid was a challenge what with the pop-up images that had to be resized, saved, uploaded and plugged into the text. For many of you, that would be child’s play, but for me, it was like digging out multiple splinters.
Anyway, here’s the particular bit of disgusting douchebaggery I observed yesterday morning, while doing the walking thing.
I was approaching a man who had stopped on the sidewalk, when all of a sudden, he let loose with a bone-shaking sneeze that actually startled me, and I was probably sixty feet away from him at the time. I continued to walk in his direction, and he sneezed again – the same way only louder. He actually screamed each time he sneezed. When I was perhaps thirty feet away from the guy, he shook the ground with sneeze number three.
That was the startling part, but here’s the gross part.
Each one of those sneezes, full of sound and fury, produced copious amounts of spit, snot, boogers and honkers, (I assume in varying ratios, depending on the order of the sneeze) all of which he mostly caught in his hand. What didn’t get caught in his hand was presumably his gift to the townsfolk.
So, after startling the shit out of me with his thunderous sneezes and grossing me out by causing me to imagine what kind of vile soup must be in his hand, he then did the bend-forward-at-the-waist-put-one-finger-over-nostril-and-BLOW thing. He repeated the process with nostril number two, each time producing an eighteen-inch snot stalactite (snotlactite?), each of which he pinched off with his fingers and shook to the ground.
Can I get an ewwwwwww?
The asshole then immediately wiped his hands on his pants, turned and walked into the produce store, where you just KNOW he would be touching all the fruits and vegetables.
Can I get another ewwwwww?
I figure this story has two morals:
1. Don’t walk with me in the mornings, for I fear I am an asshole magnet.
2. Wash your farookin’ produce.