Yesterday I was massaging some random dude and had an inexorable impending sneeze trying to wriggle its way out to cause a vast explosion all over my ill-fated clients back. So what do I do? I hold it in of course.
I’m not usually a mucus welding masseuse, however, the sneeze did manage to escape in a slow, deliberate dangling drip. I tried to nonchalantly sniff it back up, but my efforts proved fruitless and only caused it to droop lower.
When I say droop, I mean it was a flaunting flourish of swaying gelled waste trailing about an inch out of one of my well endowed Russian nostrils.
Have you ever heard that joke, ‘how do you make a handkerchief dance? Blow a little boogie in it’?
How do you make a client dance? Drop a little boogie on his back.
That sounded a lot better in my head. I made up that joke while the booger was hanging out and I almost burst out in tearful laughter. What was even more funny than that stupid joke was that I really didn’t care I had obtrusive ooze eeking out of me.
At any moment it was going to drop. ANY moment. It was very suspenseful and anyone watching would’ve been on the edge of their seats. But I seemed to care less. My face remained completely emotionless. I could just picture how silly the whole thing must’ve looked. I mean there I was, a professional massage therapist giving a wonderful massage – the look of serious concentration on my face, with a long booger hanging out.
I don’t know about me sometimes. I ended up just wiping it on my shirt sleeve before I turned the guy face-up. I waited until the last-minute before it snapped off.
This is the second time writing about boogers. Is a theme happening? Should my blog be about boogers?