Monday, April 17, 2006
Bring Back Hankies!
No, not the hanky code. Handkerchiefs. How did the whole "metrosexual revolution" neglect to bring back hankies? Because these guys on the Brown Line could use some.
Sniff. Sniffle. Snort. Suck. I have become hyper-sensitive to the sights and sounds of reasonable looking members of society sucking their snot back and then... guahhhh... SPITTING onto the sidewalk. Not into the gutter. I step over gobs of goobers on my way to work. It's just disgusting.
Ladies, do me a favor. Buy the men in your life some cotton handkerchiefs. Or at least a travel pack of tissues. I am not immune from the cold morning rush to the train sniffle. That is why I carry some kleenex with me.
And guys, don't give me the "I don't want to carry around my goobers with me all day" argument. Not flying. You dudes carry that Red Eye around with you, I'd say that's way more embarassing. What's more disgusting - spitting your nastiness into the path of an innocent bystander, or folding a square of cloth into your pocket and putting it in the hamper at the end of the day? What if a bird pooped on you? That is how I feel when a person hocks one directly in my path. If you can't deal, buy the travel kleenex and put it in your giant satchel. You know, the giant satchel you beaned me with when you got on the train at Wellington.
If Scratch used handkerchiefs, I would gladly launder them. I wouldn't press them, mind you, but I would launder them. As it is, he doesn't - but he does have kleenex on him when he's sniffly, and I have yet to see him spit in public or anywhere else.
Go retro, fellas - get yourselves some hankies and stop your sniveling.
In other news, Bulls Win! I give Skiles's combover the Skiles Face.