Of Tusks and Men

If you are readily grossed out, you may want to stop reading now.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I have a private restroom in my office, and today I discovered, on the wall above the toilet, a giant nose hair. I know it was a nose hair, because it was mine. The obvious question is, how the hell did it get there? I don’t normally wipe my nose on the wall.

I’m using this odd incident to let you know a little more about who I am, to give you a deeper glimpse into my intimate being. You see, I have enormous nose hairs. My first wife used to call them tusks. If I don’t trim them regularly, I walk around poking people in their eyes and knocking cans off the grocery store shelves.

My nose hairs are so long and thick that when engineers were fixing up this bridge, they purchased several dozen hairs from me in order to make the support cables.

So, I guess, the wonder of it all is not how the hair became stuck to the restroom wall, but how it is that the wall did not crumble to the ground beneath the massive weight.

Aren't you glad I shared? Maybe tomorrow I’ll discuss my armpits.