mother's day

say, reger, why do you plug your nose when you're about to sneeze? do you realize that you'll blow out your eardrums if you continue to do that?

i am well aware of the permanenment physical damage that i may cause myself everytime that i plug the ol' schnoz when the snot rockets are ready for takeoff. but to uncover my reasoning, we need to go back to the 7th grade and the most embarassing moment of my life.

in 7th grade, everyone had to take home ec. the school board thought it would be good for us to learn cooking and sewing as 13 year olds. so that is how i came to know the wonderful ms anita forte. one of my favorite teachers from junior high. she drove a sports car. that was cool when you were 13. well one day, ms forte was giving us a lecture on the safety rules for handling a hot oven and things of that nature.
information that you should know for this story is that i had allergies as a kid. my nose was constantly stuffed, running or both. dust mites were my anathema. and to let you know, dust mites are every-Goddamn-where. so there was no escaping the sniffling. the snot army was as relentless as it was ruthless.
my mom made me carry kleenex with me everywhere. i, of course, would never keep it on me. i was 13. no kid is going to listen to their mom if they tell them to carry kleenex with you.
my mom is the smartest woman alive, and i didn't listen.
so as i sit there in the back of the room watching ms forte write on the chalkboard about how to keep the handle of the frying pan turned to the side, i sneezed.
a monster of a sneeze.
67 gallons of snot came flying out of my nose at mach 6.
someone said the obligatory "bless you," but no one paid attention to me. until chris pierce (who i helped cheat through 8th grade health so he wouldn't fail the year, so he's not to blame here, i forgave him long ago. he's just a bit part--but back to me) turned and saw me trying to be smooth about wiping 674 quarts of boogers off my shirt, hands and pants.
"OH MY GOD, you have snot everywhere!"
this makes the class turn--because like train wrecks and tits, you just have to see for yourself--and laugh at me.
i was mortified.
and it didn't help when ms forte goes, "kids, that's nothing to laugh about. mr reger, why don't you go the bathroom and get some paper towels or something."
i just wanted to leave the school that day and run til my worries were far behind and everyone would forget about the kid that snotted all over himself.
but i was too good of a kid to skip class (at that age, anyway...).
i cleaned up and went back and sat the rest of class in embarassed silence, unwilling to take to anyone. it was the longest 25 minutes of my life.
i don't know if anyone there even remembers that anymore, but it is one of my most vibrant memories. right up there with the first kiss and first taste of sweet, sweet alcohol.
and that's why i don't allow myself to sneeze properly. even if i don't get my hand on my nose, i hold it back as much as i can. and after a decade of holding back the ah-choos, i don't even think i could sneeze properly anymore.
i am damaged goods.
i'm completely fuxored for life.
until the day i shit my pants in front of the pope.