This week’s Friday Finds is all about finding out what makes you say “yucks”.
I don’t touch the magazines at the doctors. I don’t let the boys touch the books there either. Or the toys.
Can anyone say “germaphobe”?
I’m not nuts, honest. There’s just nothing worse than flicking through the gossip pages only to find them stuck together with some sort of bodily fluid.
The other day I sat in a waiting room while I had new tyres fitted on my car. I saw a pile of mags on the table and thought they should be ok, I’m in a tyre place not a germy doctors office, right?
As I sat and flicked through an old copy of Vanity Fair, a guy walked in for his appointment to get new shoes on his car too. The thing is, we wasn’t wearing shoes on his feet. That’s another “thing” I have – wear shoes dammit.
Anyway, he sat on one seat and I sat on mine as I continued reading. It was surprisingly quiet. The peace was soon shattered by a kind of slurping sound. It was all kinds of wrong.
After a number of slurps, I gingerly looked up from the glossy pages to see no-shoe-man licking half his hand to turn a page of his magazine. Not just a little lick of the thumb or finger but half a freaking fist. Then he rubbed his soggy hand all over the page. All over every page. Surely one giant tongue lashing was enough to cover three magazines worth, not every single page?!
He caught me looking and offered me his flooded magazine. As I was about to politely decline I had one of those involuntary body shivers – so my “no thanks” looked more like “hell no, I need a shower, there’s a little bit of sick in my mouth at the thought of touching that magazine”.
No-shoe-man gave me a weird look. Yep, because I’m the weirdo in this situation. He then moved on from eating his hands to picking his toenails prior to each page turn. For the love of tetanus…..
Thankfully, mercifully, someone announced that my car was ready and I bolted.
Next time I’ll BYO the mags.
I have two little boys. My days are filled with boogers and poop and toilet accidents and weird smells so I’m not that precious. My days are spent asking “what’s that smell” or “where’s your pants” or saying “stop licking your brother/the windows/yourself/the shopping trolley”. Being a mum of boys is not a “clean” job or one for a neat freak. And I’m all for people being comfortable. But this? Way.too.much.
So tell me, what totally grosses you out?