The Chronicles of Chloe's Nose: Part Two

For the record, this blog is by popular demand. I don’t really intend to gross you out with detailed descriptions about nose excretions. But consider this your warning.

Ok. So. Gummy bears are great right? It’s a fruit snack on a sugar high, as well as being shaped like an animal. 75% of people prefer food that is shaped like an animal. Why else would anyone eat animal crackers?
Thus, one day, as in today, I decided to eat a pack of gummy bears. With like 100g of sugar per bear, it was good sustenance for my chemistry (aka the happiness vacuum) study session. I happened to be at work in the weight room, sitting at the attendant’s desk, which to paint the picture, is a square fish bowl, complete with 4 glass walls so I can gaze out dreamily at the buff men lifting weights.
I’m not really sure how it happened. One minute I was chomping on the gummy bear herd trying to figure out which color was so pleasantly sweet, when something went awry in the esophagus region. I inhaled at the most unfortunate time and then felt it. Gummy bear had definitely gone up my nose. It was most assuredly lodged.
On the seriousness scale from paper cut to heart attack, gummy exposure is a 7. Maybe you haven’t felt it yet but it’s like something experienced at the dentist. Painful. I got a drink of water and cleared my throat a few times, but the gummy bear remained, sending sharp pings through my sinus cavity. I could feel the gummy bear getting comfortable as my own discomfort increased and I wanted to take a hammer to my head. I huffed a little more, trying to act normal in the square fish bowl. The stubborn gummy bear just wasn’t budging.
I blew my nose. I blew it again. And one more time. And then I felt it. A great satisfying “whoosh” followed by pieces of green gummy bear in my tissue. Yes. It came out my nose.

It’s disgusting, I know.
Beware of the bear.

Let your ____ so _____

I was recently the victim of two do-gooders in one week.

The first incident was on a Monday. I had just finished taking a test. After I retired my stressed-out eraser, I was greeted on the staircase by an odd group of happy people. One of these happy bunch asked me “Did you just take a test?” with a bit much too enthusiasm than a conversation about exams merits. I hesitantly wobbled my head in the affirmative. The happy crowd then burst into flames, I mean applause, and gave me 3 “you did it!” ‘s and 2 “congratulations” and handed me a cookie. They did the same to the other suffering test-taker walking behind me.

It felt . . . good. And I got a cookie.

I was struck again the next day by a phantom bed-maker. I came home and noticed my flattened sheets. I stared quizzically at them like one of those art history people looking at a painting. I will never be one of those art history people, but I did conclude that it was not I who made that bed. Someone had definitely done those tight corners for me.

So thank you to all the do-gooders out there who I may never meet or who may live next door. I’m glad you stopped looking at your facebook, or doing whatever else we/I do, to think about me instead. :)