I’m Such A Snotty Princess

Hubby brought home a cold last week. As I mentioned several years ago, we generally don’t share viruses because I’m probably a Neanderthal, but this one seems to have targeted the weaker homo sapiens part of my genetic makeup.

Right now I’m at the stage where my throat and lungs are on fire but I’m not coughing yet. I’m still clinging to the idiot hope that maybe the Rhinovirus Fairy will pass me by instead of scooping out my brain and replacing it with snot.

But I think she (or ‘he’, to be fair) has already begun the process, because in the last few days I’ve developed a disturbing tendency to shuffle to a halt and stand staring into space for several seconds before saying, “Come on, brain, you can do this!” aloud. It seems to work – I usually remember what I was trying to do, but it tends to draw wary looks if I do it outside the privacy of my home.

Meanwhile, I’m sucking on zinc/echinacea/Vitamin C lozenges and drinking hot lime juice with honey. (I prefer lime instead of the traditional lemon because then I can pretend I’m drinking a hot margarita instead of a medicinal beverage.)  I don’t expect this to cure or in any way improve my cold, but at least it gives me something to do while I wait.

When I sat down to write this post I racked my virus-laden brain for something funny to say about the common cold, but you know what? I got nothin’. Colds suck. Or rather, blow. Great soggy snot-balls.

So instead, here are a few things that made me laugh this week:

My blogging buddy Carl D’Agostino’s cartoon: https://carldagostino.wordpress.com/2015/05/18/compulsive-behavior-by-carl-dagostino/

My nephew’s comment about men’s locker rooms: “Yep, no matter which way you turn, you’re gonna see something you really didn’t want to see.” That reminded us both of this comic from The Oatmeal and made us laugh uproariously. (Scroll down to the bottom of The Oatmeal’s page for the one about the locker room.)

Then there’s this picture sent to me by one of my readers, Sue W., because she saw it on Facebook and knew it would make me laugh. (The misspelling of ‘potato’ is neither hers nor mine.)

That’ll make you think twice about digging in the garden…

That’ll make you think twice about digging in the garden…

I’m hoping the person who wrote the caption meant ‘love this’ in the philosophical sense, not the physical. But probably only my mind would ever latch onto that critical distinction.

This Twitter message was laughable because it was such a lame attempt at marketing from somebody who clearly knows me… wait for it… NOT AT ALL:

Totally me. Not.

Totally me. Not.

Let me count the ways this made me laugh:

  • They clearly put so much time and effort into crafting their marketing message. Ten seconds with Google Translate might have helped.
  • It’s pink. Anybody who knows me (even slightly) knows that I’ve never in my life worn or even owned anything pink.
  • It has a princess crown on it. Is there anything about me that could in any way be construed as princess-like?
  • It has a cutesy heart on it. I’m totally gonna wear this with my biking leathers and flaming-skull helmet.
  • And hell yeah, I’m going to click on a random link sent by some spammer just because the T-shirt has my first name on it. Nice try, guys. But thanks for the laughs.

What made you chuckle this week? And/or what’s your favourite cold remedy?

Soup Nose: ‘S Not Funny

There are a quite a few disorders with evocative names like tennis elbow, tailor’s bunion, and vibration white finger.  Though it sounds like it should fit it this category, I’m not including plumber’s butt in the list because the person afflicted with it is completely oblivious while the innocent bystanders suffer.  And I’m not going to make a crack about that.  (Yeah, okay, I couldn’t help it.)

Recently, though, I discovered another less serious but equally irritating affliction:  soup nose.  I’ve had it all my life, but thanks to my step-mom I’ve finally discovered its correct name.

Why is it that as soon as I eat something hot, my nose runs?  After exhaustive research (with a couple of friends and a few cold beers), I’ve determined that this is a widespread, medically neglected phenomenon.  And there’s no good way to deal with it politely.

In private, it’s easy.  One good nose-honk and the problem’s solved, though I do have an unfortunate tendency to attract flocks of amorous Canada geese with that method.

But in polite company, what does one do?  Fleeing the table to seek the necessary privacy for goose imitations isn’t always feasible.  Then I have to fall back on the tissue-dabbing method, which, frankly, is annoying as hell.  Not to mention conspicuous when I do it for the umpteenth time.

I was eating soup the other day when a burning question popped into my mind:  Does the Queen get soup nose?

Think about it.  Here’s a woman who’s lived all her life in the public eye.  It’s not like she can jump up from the table at a state dinner and scuttle off to the loo for a good old nose-honk.  But you never see her dabbing at her nose with a tissue.

I mean, really.  Can you imagine the Queen harbouring a nasty little snot-soaked tissue stuffed up her sleeve like Grandma used to do?  I’m pretty sure the Queen is above snot-soaked tissues.

So that leaves me with three possibilities:

  1. The Queen simply doesn’t get soup nose.  It’s beneath her.
  2. Nobody ever serves the Queen anything hot.  She eats all her meals cold or tepid.  Or…
  3. Somebody has found a cure for soup nose!

In case one or two, I’m out of luck.  Pretty much nothing’s beneath me, and cold / tepid just isn’t my style.

But… I live in hope that there’s a cure out there.  Some miraculous drug or process by which I could actually stay seated for an entire hot meal.  I haven’t been able to find it yet, but if you hear about anything, let me know.

And since I’m on this low-brow subject anyway, I’ll leave you with the following bit of doggerel left over from my childhood.  I don’t know who the original author was, but I’ll credit them if I ever find out.

So you’re kissing with your honey
And your nose is kind of runny
And you think it’s kind of funny
But it’s snot.

Probably the author prefers to remain nameless…