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watching people
so Hillary and I were sitting outside the Starbuck's on Fremont Avenue North in Fremont yesterday evening.  it's not important for you to know that we were not patronizing Starbuck's, but we were not patronizing Starbuck's; we were waiting for Hillary's friends so we could join them just down the block for a bite before we got out of town.

a couple folks parked illegally.  a couple folks were upset with each other.  quite a few people drove by.  at least one person had a difficult-to-reach booger in his left nostril.

last Thursday, I had a look at my fingernails while I was showering.  they were crammed full of filth.  so I clipped them.  mission accomplished: the filth no longer had any safe harbor on my tips.

I tend to confine my nose-picking to the shower, or the farm, or half-sleep in bed from 1:30 to 3:00 am (I'm sorry, Kanna.  I try to collect the evidence in the morning...).  but sometimes there's a really uncomfortable boog that demands timely removal and the setting loses primacy.

other times, I just forget myself and dig in absentmindedly where I might not if I was completely aware of my surroundings and what I was doing.

so, it's really hard to get at this booger.  it's way up in there and while my fingernails are still quite free of visible soil, they are also no longer effective tools for the task at hand.  the extremely adhesive nature of this booger isn't helping either.  try the thumb.  no luck.  back to the first finger.  is that Julie Nairn in the new pho place across the street where Sonic Boom was?  no, but she is looking at me.  maybe because I've got a finger in my nose up to the second knuckle.  oh, right, I guess I'm picking my nose.  I guess I'm in a very public place.  I should stop, but I've almost got it.  and... success.

roll and flick, and we're done here.  Hillary is cracking up.

statement:
the first church of dirt does not condone underage nose-picking.  adults picking nose is disgusting and frequently hilarious.  children picking nose is just disgusting.
scripture
The Man Who Planted Trees.

predictable?  yes.  I'm not sorry.
stay tuned
announcing the first church of dirt's Open the Books, in which I will expose to the internet far more information about my finances than propriety dictates.  you'll read it here first, folks.  and also last.  or not at all.

I love money.jpg