So I have some odd fascinations that cause people to look at me sideways. For instance, I like to find the seedy underbelly of whatever town I’m visiting. I’m riveted by mafia-like crime. If someone dies a violent death, I want all of the details. I read the police blotter of local papers and have since I was little. When I ran long-distance, I was the one stopping to look at and examine road kill. This is a horrid side of me and I need immediate help, I know. I was probably dropped on my head as a child.
I have an unnaturally strong stomach. I started out in college as pre-med (who didn’t?) and got so far as to actually dissect a cadaver, so you wouldn’t think much would bother me.
(Sidebar: It’s not advisable to mention that you know how to dismember a body on a first date. The check will appear very quickly and you won’t get to look at the dessert menu. See, I don’t think of that knowledge as “strange” or “weird”, but more “handy” and perhaps “useful if hungry and on a deserted island.” That’s just me, though.)
But I do have a list of things that freak me out that the average person wouldn’t even blink at:
1) I don’t like people to touch my food.
2) I hate cabbage, either growing or on my plate. The plant itself inspires violent feelings.
3) I’m scared of birds.
4) I’m also scared of schools of fish.
5) I have an unnatural fear of something getting lodged in my navel.
6) Empty wrappers, for instance in a box of See’s Candies, cause me terrible anxiety. I can’t take a chocolate until I’ve gathered up all of the wrappers and thrown them out.
7) I’m scared of white vans. The ones that drive, not the shoes.
I’m sure others share #1 and #3…but I’d admit to the rest as being odd. Anyways, today, I added another irrational fear to the list.
I was working in the studio by myself and in between clients a man walked in, wanting information about Pilates. I had just started giving him my usual spiel when I caught sight of his nose…and the long hairs growing out of it. We’re talking LONG. Like, he might have had to employ a hair dryer and some styling products to get that hair to behave the way it was. It was curly, silky looking and very happy to be out in the world. As he talked, it bounced enthusiastically against his upper lip and I couldn’t hear a world he was saying for fear that the hair would wind its way over to me and perhaps pull me into his nose, where I would be forever lost. It was fascinating, and also made me want to throw up a little bit. Because in what land, what culture, is it ok to shave your entire face yet let hairs grow to that extent OUT OF YOUR NOSE? Things, mucous-y things, come out of that. With the amount of hair that was projecting forth from his nostrils, who knows what else was living up there? Had a goat poked its head out, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
My mind was spiraling, lost in the jungle of his nasal passages when I realized that he had stopped talking and was looking at me expectantly, clearly having asked me a question that required a response.
“Um…I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
“I asked if you…”
And again, the hairs were wagging so violently at me that I couldn’t focus on anything else. Truly, I’ve never been so distracted in my life. In my head all I could hear was “DOESN’T HE KNOW THAT HE HAS A FULL HEAD OF HAIR COMING OUT OF THE CENTER OF HIS FACE?”
Somehow, I got through the rest of the conversation and sent him packing as my next client came into the studio for her session. He held the door open for her as she entered and she did a swift double take as he left, dragging his nose hairs behind him.
“Are you serious?” she said, eyes wide.
“I know, right? I’ve never seen anything like that. I’m speechless.”
“Has he ever thought to trim them?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think to ask, I was too worried that I might get tangled up if I got any closer. It’s like a choking hazard.”
“Wow. Can you imagine kissing that? You wouldn’t need to floss later!”
Which is when I gagged, and then thought to myself “I’m officially afraid of excess nose hair.”
And again, yes, I know I’m shallow.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Dental porn...at Longs!
So I have had a pretty excellent day today. I didn’t have to be at work until 9am. I slept well. All of my clients were in great moods. I had a fantastic salad for lunch. My underwear didn’t ride up my butt. All was well in my land.
Who knew a trip to Longs could make it SO much better???
I must digress for a moment…
Remember when you were like, in HIGH SCHOOL, how it was kind of rad to make out in public? You could mess around with your boy/girlfriend by your locker or at the football game – perhaps even participate in some inappropriate over the sweater action – and it was cool. You were MAKING OUT and GETTING SOME and it was fun! Or perhaps I was just slutty? We could go with that...
Anyhoo, I was in Longs this afternoon buying sundries and realized that I was out of toothpaste. Rounding the corner of that particular aisle, I almost ran smack into a couple who was going at it FULL BORE. I mean, there were tongues, hands down the pants, the works.
They were both, like, in their late forties. And it was not hot. Or rad. Or cool. Or fun for me.
It was just GROSS. There were panty hose, some errant ear hairs, hot pink nails and a bad blond dye job involved. Ew.
Who knew the dental care aisle could be so hot? I mean, was he checking for cavities? Was she testing the integrity of his fillings? I don’t know, but I skirted past, grabbed my brand and made a hasty retreat. In typical Jen fashion, though, I realized that I had forgotten my floss, and so back I went, where they were still going at it. The disgusting factor had increased as now they were adding moans to the show. Was this some version of dental porn?
I turned to exit the aisle and met a little old lady, head on, who was pushing her walker ahead of her. She was clearly one of those women who you wouldn’t want to cross, her irritability wafting a good ten feet in front of her. I moved to the side to let her pass and retreated again, the moans of the two love-birds following me into the shampoo aisle. And this is when it got interesting.
The little old lady, either irritated because her walker couldn’t pass the two idiots or just perhaps reminded that she hadn’t gotten any in a while was clearly un-amused by the show. One of the things I love most about older people is that they just don’t care what anyone thinks of what they say…it’s as though your verbal filter gets removed, age 65. And she let them have it:
“WILL YOU TWO SLUTS GET A ROOM? FOR GODS SAKE DO YOU REALLY THINK ANY OF US WANT TO SEE YOU FOOLING AROUND LIKE TWO GOD DAMNED TEENAGERS WHEN WE’RE TRYING TO SHOP FOR A TOOTHBRUSH? TAKE IT SOMEWHERE ELSE. AND FOR CHRISTS SAKE ACT YOUR AGE. UGLY WHORES. I SHOULD RUN YOU OVER WITH MY GOD DAMNED WALKER! SLUTS!”
Seriously? I nearly wet my pants! I especially loved the second “SLUTS!” in case the first one, followed by “WHORES!” didn’t get their attention. Perfection! Had she had a cane with her, I'm sure I would have heard "SMACK SMACK SMACK" as she beat them both down (that being said, I wish she HAD had a cane, because that would have been awesome). I had to stifle the urge to go and hug her – an act which I’m sure she would have berated me for. I SO wanted to follow her around for the rest of the day…and perhaps even sic her on some people who have been annoying me lately. She would be an awesome secret weapon.
P.S. Does anyone know where the term “making out” came from? Because it doesn’t make sense OR sound right…yet we all use it. “We TOTALLY made out!” I mean, how does that imply two people kissing? I need to know. Fifty cents and my undying love to whomever gives me a satisfactory response.
Who knew a trip to Longs could make it SO much better???
I must digress for a moment…
Remember when you were like, in HIGH SCHOOL, how it was kind of rad to make out in public? You could mess around with your boy/girlfriend by your locker or at the football game – perhaps even participate in some inappropriate over the sweater action – and it was cool. You were MAKING OUT and GETTING SOME and it was fun! Or perhaps I was just slutty? We could go with that...
Anyhoo, I was in Longs this afternoon buying sundries and realized that I was out of toothpaste. Rounding the corner of that particular aisle, I almost ran smack into a couple who was going at it FULL BORE. I mean, there were tongues, hands down the pants, the works.
They were both, like, in their late forties. And it was not hot. Or rad. Or cool. Or fun for me.
It was just GROSS. There were panty hose, some errant ear hairs, hot pink nails and a bad blond dye job involved. Ew.
Who knew the dental care aisle could be so hot? I mean, was he checking for cavities? Was she testing the integrity of his fillings? I don’t know, but I skirted past, grabbed my brand and made a hasty retreat. In typical Jen fashion, though, I realized that I had forgotten my floss, and so back I went, where they were still going at it. The disgusting factor had increased as now they were adding moans to the show. Was this some version of dental porn?
I turned to exit the aisle and met a little old lady, head on, who was pushing her walker ahead of her. She was clearly one of those women who you wouldn’t want to cross, her irritability wafting a good ten feet in front of her. I moved to the side to let her pass and retreated again, the moans of the two love-birds following me into the shampoo aisle. And this is when it got interesting.
The little old lady, either irritated because her walker couldn’t pass the two idiots or just perhaps reminded that she hadn’t gotten any in a while was clearly un-amused by the show. One of the things I love most about older people is that they just don’t care what anyone thinks of what they say…it’s as though your verbal filter gets removed, age 65. And she let them have it:
“WILL YOU TWO SLUTS GET A ROOM? FOR GODS SAKE DO YOU REALLY THINK ANY OF US WANT TO SEE YOU FOOLING AROUND LIKE TWO GOD DAMNED TEENAGERS WHEN WE’RE TRYING TO SHOP FOR A TOOTHBRUSH? TAKE IT SOMEWHERE ELSE. AND FOR CHRISTS SAKE ACT YOUR AGE. UGLY WHORES. I SHOULD RUN YOU OVER WITH MY GOD DAMNED WALKER! SLUTS!”
Seriously? I nearly wet my pants! I especially loved the second “SLUTS!” in case the first one, followed by “WHORES!” didn’t get their attention. Perfection! Had she had a cane with her, I'm sure I would have heard "SMACK SMACK SMACK" as she beat them both down (that being said, I wish she HAD had a cane, because that would have been awesome). I had to stifle the urge to go and hug her – an act which I’m sure she would have berated me for. I SO wanted to follow her around for the rest of the day…and perhaps even sic her on some people who have been annoying me lately. She would be an awesome secret weapon.
P.S. Does anyone know where the term “making out” came from? Because it doesn’t make sense OR sound right…yet we all use it. “We TOTALLY made out!” I mean, how does that imply two people kissing? I need to know. Fifty cents and my undying love to whomever gives me a satisfactory response.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
