Since I was having technical difficulties this past week with my blog, I didn’t write a new one. But here’s one of my very first posts from 2012. Enjoy!
I realize today’s post will probably offend those of the male persuasion, but on behalf of women everywhere (or at least those who read this column and happen to agree with me), I feel it’s time to break the silence.
My intent today is not to insult men, but rather to enlighten them to Proper Behavioral Manners, henceforth known as PBMs. The perplexing male behavior I’m referring to is, specifically: (a) nose picking, (b) spitting, and (c) the ever popular crotch grabbing.
I have noticed that men tend to do (a) and (b) while driving, so it stands to reason they are probably doing (c) whilst in the car also. Here’s my question: Are you aware we can see you?
Car-driving-nose-pickers act as if they’re at home hidden behind a secure bathroom door instead of stopped at a busy intersection. In deference to us innocent onlookers, nose pickers should be required to own cars with tinted windows. Violators must wear mittens when driving or perform community service advocating the merits of Kleenex.
What happened to public etiquette? My mother always taught me to keep my elbows off the table and my fingers out of my nose. Don’t mothers tell their sons the same thing?
Perhaps not, because I have never seen a woman with her finger in her nose. And it’s not like I don’t get around. I’ve been to public places where the opportunity to witness nose picking ladies is abundant — like Disneyland or Nordstrom’s during their twice yearly shoe sale.With half the world being composed of women, you would think I might have encountered at least one of them digging for the promised land, but I haven’t. Therefore, I can only deduce that the absence of PBM’s originated in, and is generally restricted to, the male species.
So what does that say about the way we raise our sons? That we don’t harp on the social graces with boys as much as we do girls? Or do boys simply have more debris in their noses? I’m going to leave that one for the professionals.
That brings me to spitting. Few things are more repulsive than witnessing, on your way to brunch, what appears to be a glob of over-easy egg whites being spewed from an open car window (hence, another fine use for Kleenex).
The only thing worse is when said glob lands on your windshield, so you keep looking at it as you drive to the restaurant because, amazingly, not even 50-mile-an-hour winds will budge that baby.
So that leaves us with crotch grabbing, a popular activity with most baseball players. I used to enjoy watching our national pastime on TV until that particular activity (along with spitting) became rampant.
Question: Is your cup too small? Too big? Are you checking to see if you’re wearing one? Perhaps as a non-cup-wearing female, I will never understand the compulsion.
Anyway, I’m sure I have a better chance of winning the lottery than I do of making it through an entire game without viewing an “adjustment” up close on my 55” HD TV.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-male. I love men. I was even married to one. But I simply don’t need to see perfect strangers feeling comfortable enough to share their not-so-appealing inclinations with me.
I’m beginning to think the Ten Commandments missed a rather important one: Thou shall not repulse each other.