The Yes's and the nose

On the whole, I'm pretty much okay with my body. I'm just saying that so you won't think I normally complain about being too fat, short, hairy and generally unpleasant to look at while you're eating; and on the other hand, I'm not call-him-Mr. Vain either. I only have one mirror in my room, and it's usually closed in Aharon, my closet (and it's got the letters 2B written on it in blue - a psychological trick I once pulled on myself, so that if I ever encounter The Question, To Be Or Not To Be, I will only have to look at myself to find the answer -now tell me that's not profound)

But, if you ask me to name one part of my body I'll have to give up, I think I'll choose my nose, with all the unpleasant visual implications. First of all, even when it is there it's a pretty dominant visual implication; genetics does that to you. And second, and more important, it's damn good at what it's doing. I thought a nose's job is to smell, but obviously someone thought differently. My nose seem to think that his purpose in life is to produce the eeky stuff, and do it constantly, with no regard to the time of year or the weather. Whether. Wheather. And it does so, even in the driest, hottest days of summer.

One can always find me on the Relax by looking for the guy with two fat pockets: One has a pocket book in it, and the other one contain a roll of toilet paper - usually the softer brand, in case my nose decides it's time for an explosion or two. An obvious waste of room: you can combine the two by reading a bad book, and using the pages you passed for nose jobs. The problem is that those book's paper is coarse and full of sharp corners. I wrote a protest letter to Penguin about this, but they haven't replied yet.

Well, you say, the solution's right under my nose, right? There are some pretty good plastic surgeons around, right? Well, not likely... this is an option I turn my nose at. First of all, I will not go under the hands of someone who calls himself a "plastic surgeon". Plastic surgeon should stick to Barbie dolls. And second, if it was a five-minute-long process and cost 10 dollars I may have done it, but it's a pretty scary and long thing that I'd have to pay for through the nose. But maybe one day I will, who knows? (HA! I kill me. Sorry about this last paragraph, it won't happen again.)