The One About Manners

When I was little, my mom told me to always keep my nose clean. To most people, this means “stay out of trouble”, but when my mom said it, she meant to literally keep my nose clean. See, unlike you people with the “normal” childhood’s, I grew up being told that if you leave the boogies in your nose, they turn into tiny boogie eggs that hatch little birds. If you don’t make sure your nose is clean, those little things will hatch and fly right on outta there. It could happen at any time: While you are talking to a boy you like, while you are giving a book report to your class, while you are in the lunch line. IT COULD HAPPEN AT ANY TIME! Since I lived in utter fear of the “hatchings”, I made sure my nose was boogie-free at all times.Fortunately, I was taught the proper use of a Kleenex (the finger-wrap rule) while extricating the incubating boogie eggs. I must mention, that I was about 8 years old when this took place, and even then, did not withdraw the eggs in public, because certain things are private. Or so I thought.

Recently, my friend Lisa told me that everywhere she went that day, she saw people in their cars picking their noses. We all see the occasional nose picker at a stoplight, but she saw them everywhere. According to her, these people were definitely NOT following the finger-wrap rule. I also have my doubts that they were fearful of the boogie birds. These people were just digging away, oblivious to everyone around them. Are people not aware that even though they are ensconced in their vehicles, they can still be seen? Cars, people, are not like the cloak of invisibility. Window tinting reduces the suns harsh rays, but still lets your picking shine through for the entire world to see.

After Lisa told me about “National Nose Pickers Day”, I was talking to my friend Kim. Kim works as a nutritionist for the Health Department in a location that I will keep a secret, although I will tell you that it rhymes with Bozarks. Being that Kim is super-competitive, she told me that she could one-up Lisa, and one-up Lisa she did. She had a client come into her office, dig around in her nose for a while, then wipe the boogies on her desk. Right in front of her. Now, since Kim is a bigger germaphobe than I am, I was shocked that she didn’t kung fu the crap out of that woman like I would have. Instead, being the professional that she is, she simply said “You just wiped a booger on my desk and you’d better put it back where it came from.” This story appalled me, mostly because the thought of my best friend being brutally attacked by freshly hatched boogie birds was truly terrifying.

But that’s enough about boogies, because I soon realized that gross manners extend far beyond your garden-variety nose picker. Kim had another client who sneezed while sitting in her office. When the woman got up to leave, Kim immediately noticed that the chair was pretty wet. The woman said, “My bladder just ain’t what it used to be” and walked out. I am telling you right now, if I accidentally peed in someone’s office chair, I would either be way more apologetic than that, or else I would come up with some kick-ass lie. I don’t know what it would be, it might involve alien abduction or a brain-eating virus, but I do know that I am not admitting to peeing in a chair until I have tried out all my other options first.

On another yucky note: a few days ago, I was sitting in my Doctor’s waiting room, and a woman came in with crappy music blaring from her ear buds so loudly that I was starting to lose it. The “child” or “devil spawn” in her stroller was repeatedly sticking her tongue out at me, and also at an adorable old couple sitting next to me, and spit was flying everywhere. The mom wasn’t noticing this because (a) the music proclaiming that her “milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard” was loud enough to cause ear damage to everyone in the waiting room, and (b) she had her nose in her armpit. She was in public, surrounded by people, and she was pulling her sleeves out of the way and sticking her nose deep into her pits to see what was happening. If the face she made after the smell test was any indication, some bad stuff was going on up in those pits.

Now, I will be the first to admit that I have had my own bad manners moments. A few years ago I was lucky enough to attend the Emmy Awards. I had a lovely gown, lovely jewelry, and I was feeling good. Unfortunately, I later found out that I was shown on the “Emmy Live From The Red Carpet” show on “E!” fanning my steaming armpits. In my defense, it was very hot out there, I didn’t know there was a live camera pointing at me, and I was DEFINITLEY NOT sniffing them. I was only cooling them off. However, when you get your 15 minutes of fame, you don’t want 60 seconds of them to be you, in your pretty evening gown, fanning your pits. Another thing about me, which some may see as bad manners, is that I am lacking a filter. As my husband says, “you should really think every sentence over a few times before you let it come out of your mouth.” I also talk about things with my friends that Miss Manners would most definitely not approve of. For example, every time I talk to my friend Stephanie, the first 5-10 minutes of our conversation is about bloating, cramping, pooping, and the general maintenance and welfare of our entire gastrointestinal and female areas. It’s just what we do. We are close friends, and sometimes it’s good to have a little support with these important topics. It may be gross to some of you, but at least we’re not talking about it on our Bluetooth’s while in line at Target.

Most of us do not have perfect manners, and if I ever meet someone who does, while I would admire their restrained behavior, we would never become friends. On the other hand, I would never want to be friends with the booger-wiper or chair-wetter either.There is definitely a middle ground with manners. If you want to jam your finger up your nose, save it for the privacy of your own house. Watch your American Idol and dig away. If you have a pee-pee problem, it’s time for a diaper or it’s time to stay home and tinkle on your own damn furniture. If you are unsure about your pit hygiene, buy extra strength deodorant, and maybe carry a travel size with you. Please.

As the mother of an 8-year-old son, I can tell you that some nasty stuff is going down at my house at any given moment of the day. I know you will think I am making this up, but while I was typing this paragraph, my son ran into the study and said, “Toot power! Bombs away!” dropped a stink bomb that made my eyes water, and then ran to the living room. Have I told him a million times that I don’t like that? Yes. Does he do it anyway? Of course. I have learned to let it go, as long as he only does it at home when we are company-free. But I guarantee you that the first time we are at Target and he turns into Super Toot Man, he is in big trouble. Unless, of course, there is a booger-picker or pants-wetter in our midst, in that case “toot power” may just chase them off.