Life is filled with unpleasantries. Taxes, cancer and living under the tyranny of an autocrat are among them. But, there are more minuscule, everyday unpleasantries. At least they seem minuscule until you encounter them in everyday life. Then they're completely unnerving.
Like a couple weeks ago, when I was at my daughter's basketball tournament, which is already a whole excruciating day of sitting on wooden bleachers making mandatory small talk with other parents. How could this situation get worse? I'll tell you. I sat next to the yeller. THE YELLER, I SAID! It's like he was coaching the team from the highest row in the bleachers. Right in my ear. So, I did what anyone would do. Looked away and made sarcastic faces to no one in particular that conveyed, "Can you believe this guy? Who does he think he is?" And most importantly, "FEEL SORRY FOR ME!" Of course, this tactic didn't work to change my situation.
But in a polite society, what the hell are you supposed to do?
This is why I take out my indignation on my children. Because once you get to a certain age, no one will tell you when you're being annoying and/or disgusting. Polite society begins to shun you. Which is why I made sure not to sit next to shouting guy for the next game. I waited until he sat down and then sat across the gym in the middle of the spectators supporting the opposing team. A risky move if you consider I could've chosen to sit in the open seat next to their shunned shouting guy. Which is probably why the seat next to him is available.
One of the things I'm all over my kids (when I say kids, I really mean my boys) about is using a tissue. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, USE A GODDAM TISSUE! Do not loudly snort that snot back up. If you're in the middle of the desert with no other option, you can lightly sniff and then wipe a bit on your sleeve. No, not your hand, sleeve. But, look for a leaf first. Which is probably unrealistic in the desert. What I'm saying is, loud reverse snot rocking mucus down your throat and/or wiping it on your hand is the absolute last resort. AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WASH YOUR GODDAM HANDS! SERIOUSLY, WHEN'S THE LAST TIME YOU WASHED THEM?
Right now, you're thinking of someone who does this. And if you're not? Guess what? More than likely, you're the offender. And as I tell my kids, people will act like they don't notice these behaviors because it's not polite to tell people that they're making you want to vomit and/or punch them in the face. BUT EVERYONE NOTICES! AND THEY'RE ALL JUDGING YOU AND JUDGING ME, YOUR MOTHER, BECAUSE WHY DIDN'T I RAISE YOU BETTER? BUT I DID RAISE YOU BETTER! I DID!
I say this because I went to a party recently where a perfectly lovely woman loudly snorted up her boogers exactly three times. And no, she was not in the desert sans tissues. She could've excused herself to go to the bathroom and blown her nose. On three separate occasions. But, she didn't. I'm sure she didn't even realize she was doing it because it's such a habit. Which is exactly why I'm trying to break my boys of these disgusting patterns and trying to coax them into using Kleenex. This is actually where it gets more complicated. Because using a disposable tissue, is only one step of a whole larger process.
Years ago, one of my brothers had a girlfriend. Let's say her name was Ellen. Because her name was actually Ellen and I don't think she reads my blog and even if she did, it would really act as passive-aggressive public service announcement. Because, if you haven't broken these vile acts of indecency by the time you're 18, it's doubtful you will, specifically because who's going to tell you? Someone whose vile act is to call other people out on their vile acts, that's who. And I think we all know, everyone shuns that person. (Like the lady who yelled at me in my early 20's for using the nonsensical term 'irregardless'. Which, I must confess, I've never used since. So, while this approach is highly effective for the offender, it won't make you any friends.) Anyway, let's get back to Ellen. Ellen always had a runny nose. Maybe she had allergies. Maybe she was just a germ whore who didn't wash her hands. I can't say for certain. But, what I can say for certain, is she used a lot of Kleenex to blow her nose. And then dropped the used tissues on the floor. At my parents' house. WTF? WTF, ELLEN! Thank god my brother didn't marry her. But, if he did we could've decorated the outside of their car for the wedding with her used tissues instead of tissues made to look like roses. And why stop there? We could've done the interior too!
I could go on and on about the unpleasantries of other people. But, the thing is, none of us is immune. We've all got something. Like, I'm pretty sure I'm the person you're talking to who has the assaulting garlic breath because I eat a lot of that stuff. And we all know, it takes 3 solid days to get rid of garlic breath. You can brush, floss, mouthwash and gum all you like. It will still take 3 days. It's the same with Dorito breath. I'm also the person who doesn't know how to start or end a conversation with you if I don't know you. And let's face it, the middle isn't so great either. I will further mortify myself by admitting that I have committed the heinous act of accidentally releasing a silent fart mid-conversation only to be overwhelmed by a crescendo of stank while pretending it didn't originate with me. Luckily, denial is an option with that unpleasantry. Unless you're a frequent farter. In which case, eventually people will discover it's you and you'll be socially shunned.
Life is gross.