Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Now touch me, baby. Can't you see that I am not afraid?*

I walked into an office today contemplating how the wicked shards that my nails have become might shred the handshakee's fingers. I actually worried about this and how I may look to them with my utterly unkempt nails. Fidgeting around, I noticed a sign on the desk that read “Due to the cold and flu season, please do not be offended that we do not shake your hand”.

First thought: Okay, good. No one needs to see my straggly manicure. And I don’t have to survive one of those limp fish hand shakes that apparently Native Americans like to give (according to Sherman Alexie). “…She shook my hand loosely, using only her fingers. Not like those tight grips that white people use to prove something. She touched my hand like she was glad to see me, not like she wanted to break bones.” (Alexie 200). I personally would rather you attempt to break my bones. But then I have a lot to prove…

Second thought: What the...? Are we going to become a world like in the movie “Demolition Man” where no one can touch anyone else? Ok, maybe that is not the best example, but seriously, never exposing ourselves to germs will create the super-germ, right? Or, so the NCBI says. It just seems like everything is getting a little out of control. Maybe I don’t need you coughing on me, but I’d like to think I’ll withstand most of the germs. My kids, should I ever have them, will be allowed to eat dirt, stick frogs in their mouths and not bathe all week. I will create the super race and I don’t mean Hitler-style.

Alexie, Sherman. The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. New York: Grove Press, 1993.

*Song by The Doors

Sunday, January 21, 2007