current entry older entries message board contact
1:05 p.m. - 2001-12-07

YOU MAY THINK IT'S FUNNY, BUT IT'S SNOT

I don't know how I forgot to mention this the other day but my evil boss Wendigo reminded me of it this morning.

The other afternoon, a co-worker Kurt comes in my office. Apparently there was something wrong with a picture in a book we were about to send to press and he needed some confirmation on where the photo came from. Exact details of the exchange are hazy at the moment as you'll soon find out why.

So I'm talking to him and going through some files in my file cabinet and I feel my nose running.

So I start sniffing because most people really don't wanna see snot pour out of your nose while you're talking to them.

He keeps talking and I'm sniffing. The snot is REALLY beginning to get obnoxious. It's wanting to come out and is getting impatient with me trying to sniff it back up into my sinus cavity.

Kurt's oblivious to what's going on with my schnozz but at this point all I can concern myself with is to make sure my upper lip isn't covered in snot. I have long since stopped listening to whatever he was talking about and am sniffling like a cokehead with the flu.

Because my nose had been stuffed all day, I had smuggled a roll of toilet paper out of the company bathroom and hid it on my desk.

I went to grab the toilet paper and figured I'd blow my nose. I didn't want to be gross in front of Kurt or any of my co-workers for that matter ... but if I didn't hurry and blow my nose, I was going to be covered in runny snot.

I blew my nose.

And got a handful of blood.

No wonder the snot wouldn't cut me no slack. It wasn't snot ... it was blood. And apparently, I had opened the floodgates here because it was flowing like a whale's menstrual cycle.

Meanwhile, Kurt's standing here in my office just jab jab jabbering away.

"Ack! My nose is bleeding!" I say to Kurt.

Now, maybe I'm just being judgemental here. But when I tell someone my nose is bleeding, I want two things. I want all focus immediately shifted to my sudden problem. And I want a little privacy. Because let's face it, it's really tough to have a prim and proper nose bleed. I don't care who you are ... Martha Stewart looks like white trash when her nose bleeds. It ain't a pretty sight and it's something that the fewer people who witness it ... the better.

Kurt obviously doesn't mind being privvy to a little nose bleed. Because he just kept talking. Meanwhile, I'm jamming toilet paper up my nose and staring at the ceiling, trying desperately to curtail the carnage.

Kurt then brings up some other subject while I'm hemmoraghing.

"Kurt," I say through wads of toilet tissue. "This probably isn't a good time. I think you've caused me enough stress for one day."

I don't know if he left then or not. I was disoriented and weak from the abnormal amount of blood lost. I know eventually he was gone. I just don't know when he left.

So I stumble to the bathroom, feeling my way along the walls while staring at the ceiling tiles. I let my nose soak up some more toilet paper until it seemed to start to dry up. I then came back to my office, closed the door and sat in my soft and comfy visitor's chair with my head tilted back and dabbing at my nose.

Anyway...Wendigo got a kick out of it when Kurt told her.

And if you're concerned in the least...it quit bleeding after a few minutes.


Susie told me we're staying in a Best Western hotel tonight.

I snickered. We stayed in a Best Western last week that was a hellhole. You know you're in a shitty hotel when it has a Waffle House built into the side of it.

But I checked out the hotel on the web and it looks a little bit nicer than the one we stayed at last week.

At least this one has dataports and modems where I can get online while Andrew naps tomorrow.

And it's a mile from Hooter's.

So ... you know...I may take Andrew over there for lunch tomorrow. He'll reel the waitresses in with his dimples and chin cleft.

And I'll tell a sad sob story of how I'm having to raise him alone since his mother died during childbirth. And it's a tough road to hoe, but luckily, I'm a successful doctor/lawyer making $750,000 a year so I can afford a nice nanny for him, but still I'm depriving him of a mother. A nice, busty, beautiful waitress mother. One who can meet me at the Best Western room 210 to discuss possible marriage or maybe just some quick nasty sex while the baby sleeps in the next bed.

I think it'd work.

I mean...aren't Hooters waitresses supposed to be pretty stupid and gullible?

That's what I've always heard anyway. We don't have a Hooters in our city, so I wouldn't know.

Anyway. Wish me luck.

Maybe at least I can get some free wings.

0 comments so far
The last one/The next one


NEW!!!Come and write some BAD EROTICA with the cool kids!

My Diaryland Trading Card
Now go write a Suck Ass Poem™
Write me a note here.
Read my notes here.
Hey! Take the Uncle Bob Quiz!
What the hell! May as well take the wildly popular Uncle Bob Second Quiz too!
Thanks Diaryland
Designed by Lisa


CURRENT - ARCHIVES - MESSAGES - EMAIL


Have you read these?

The End Of Uncle Bob - 12:28 p.m. , 2009-02-19

Losing Focus While Trying To Write A Blog Entry Is Cool. - 1:47 p.m. , 2008-12-04

Buck Up Junior, You Could Be Digging Ditches - 11:36 p.m. , 2008-10-31

That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

Return Of The Karate Kid And His Slow Kitty-Lovin' Accomplice - 5:44 a.m. , 2008-10-22

Sign up for my Notify List and get email when I update!

email:
powered by
NotifyList.com

HEY YOU!
Click on the button below to order the book "Never Threaten To Eat Your Co-Workers: Best of Blogs" featuring Uncle Bob.
You WON'T be sorry.

DISCLAIMER


Read a random entry of mine.