Self Unaware Part 1 - by Douglas

This is the first of a three-part series about adults who are self-unaware. By this I mean that they seem like perfectly normal adults in most respects but they have some characteristic that makes them desperately offensive. This offense generally takes the form of one of three of the five senses – Sight, Smell, or Hearing. Today’s topic is Hearing. If you are annoyed by the feel or taste of other people, get your own damn blog. Perv.

 

First, please know that I love you. Really, I do. But sometimes, you can really annoy the crap out of me. Whatever that freaking noise is that you keep making, well…CUT IT OUT! I’ll start with myself – I am a hard breather. I know this and I try my best to be aware of it. In my defense I have broken my nose twice and my sinuses wouldn’t fetch the minimum bid in Ebay’s “Used Rhinology” section. But the key is, I am aware of it and I’m making an honest effort. You, Mr. Tony Soprano Wannabee, are not aware of it and you are not making an effort. When I get stuck sitting by you at a restaurant or a meeting or whatever, it takes every ounce of self restraint not to jam my fingers in your nostrils and remove whatever boulders you fell face-first on the last time you visited Pike’s Peak. Just to be safe I’m going to hang a live rat from your upper lip as a lure in case a couple of terriers are in there rooting for vermin.

And you…what do you have in the cup there? Gravel? Industrial-strength pop rocks? Wood chips for a hamster cage? Oh, it’s ice. No beverage in there with it? You just got a cup of ice with no intention of using it to cool a drink? So, you’re going to just sit there and crunch that ice until the local university’s seismology department calls to make sure everyone’s OK. The good news is that your aggravating habit can only last for the next thirty years or so until your teeth grind down to the pulpy root. Revenge served cold, beeyatch.

Sweet mother of Elvis, tell me that is not gum in your mouth. I’m sorry I can’t hear that incredibly amusing anecdote you’re trying to relay, but the guy next to me apparently just hocked something up from his fourth stomach and is busy working it over with his molars like it stole his daughter’s favorite Barbie. Why oh why would you think I want to see that mashed-up mound of Juicy Fruit you are rolling around your bubbly saliva and bouncing off your nasty adenoids? And that tongue – such an ironically distasteful pudgy pink thing pushing the gum around and artfully dodging your spring-loaded teeth. What do you think is in that gum that needs to get out so bad? The Arc of the Covenant? Jimmy Hoffa? Couldn’t you just waterboard it until it gives you whatever information you’re after?

OK, I feel a little better. And I think you’ve had enough for one day, you clueless decibel-ejaculators. On behalf of the rest of the world I’m asking nicely, get self aware. And as for you people who offend my sense of smell – you’re next.

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