Some disgusting thing

Busy day! So, here’s another archived entry to whet your appetite!

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The following post first appeared on on April 6, 2004.

Some Disgusting Thing

Okay, consider this.

You’ve just been introduced to someone you’ve met for the first time. You smile at each other and shake hands like you’re expected to.

Now, pause for a minute and have a think.

Did the person you’re shaking hands with maybe just dig his nose and neglect to wash or wipe his hands?

The index finger that is now touching the inside of your right wrist could have been inside a wet, booger-filled nostril two minutes ago.

If that’s not going to scare you off shaking hands with people for the rest of your life, I don’t know what will.

Well, I’m very annoyed at people who pick their noses in public. I am SUPER ANNOYED. I mean, like, what else would you like to do in public? Pluck your armpit hair with a rusty tweezer? Have sex with a monkey? Get rolled over by a steamroller, maybe?

Some things are better done in private. Unless you’re paid to do it in front of an audience. In fact, some things are better not done at all.

There was this uncle sitting beside me on the MRT yesterday, picking at his nose without a care. What’s more, he started doing it at the very moment I was happily craving french fries, thanks to that silly book (Fast Food Nation) I still haven’t finished reading, which was, at that point of time, telling me why the fries in fast food restaurants taste good.

I suppose the uncle did me a service by terminating my craving instantly but, STILL! Dammit!! How can you dig your nose when you’re sitting right beside me, and there are nine other people sitting opposite you who can see what you’re doing?


Is there a law against actions that make you feel sick and lose your appetite?

This is not the first time I’ve seen people do that. It happens so much you’d think it was a national hobby.

They stuff their index fingers into their noses and poke around, they pull them out and admire their handiwork, they roll ’em into little balls and they flick ’em into the air anywhichway, or they leave ’em under the seat for the poor cleaning person to find.

Is that totally disgusting or what?!?

How can I ever trust people’s index fingers again?

I am so traumatised I’m going to have nightmares for a whole week.