If you know me, you know I have phlegm issues. I have been known to gag for an hour at the sight of someone else's respiratory fluids. I could pick up your severed arm and hand it back to you easier than I could pick up a boogery tissue you dropped. If I had to choose, I would rather be squirted with a spray of arterial blood than have someone spit on me. You get the idea.
I was shocked yesterday at the gym when I saw an old man lean down to get a drink at the water fountain, make my favorite hocking noise, and then spit into the water fountain. Yes, he did. I would have said something if I hadn't been afraid of puking if I opened my mouth. Apparently, he still thinks he's in 1st grade.
As I was warming up, trying to get that image out of my head, and wondering what I was going to do for water while I worked out 'cause no way in hell I'm drinking from that water fountain, I found myself staring into space in the direction of the mirrors facing into the free weights. A guy staring intently at himself in the mirror while he did seated bicep curls caught my eye. He put down his weights, and I saw his index finger find a home in his nose. This wasn't just a scratching thing. He wasn't just touching the end of his nose to check for dangling crusties. He was mining. His finger was lost up to the first joint. And this went on for a while. When he was through, he wiped his finger on his shorts! If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'. I was well and thoroughly nauseated by the time I left the gym, and it wasn't because I was working out on a 101-degree day. Well, maybe partially because of that, but still.
What is up with people this week? Was my terrible movie-going experience not enough pain and suffering to meet my karmic obligations? Am I just surrounded by jackholes? Either way, I am about one booger away from going off on someone.
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