Captain Obvious started while I was living overseas as a way to keep in touch with my family and share my experiences with them. Since returning home last summer, life has been a lot less exciting, so I now tend to post a lot of meaningless BS.
Unlike the other blog-sitters, I have the distinction of being part of Nancy's family - yup, I'm her
Like the others, I also debated which post I should re-run while Nancy is off whooping it up in San Francisco. After looking back at my posts, I've come to the conclusion that I have a warped sense of humor and this really comes to light in the following. I’ll warn you that this has a bit of an icky factor, but the thought of it still cracks me up. And after Delmer’s re-run, I’ve decided that life really isn’t too short to blog about poop.
Don't get me started on men's room etiquette. I am consistently amazed at the highly educated executives I work with that I'll catch exploding into the toilet one minute that just walk out of the bathroom without stopping at the sink to wash their hands afterwards. DISGUSTING!!!!!
My favorite "forgot to wash" story is about Ben, an extremely unattractive wannabe drag queen that I worked with at the pharmacy while I was in college. Ben went to Barbazon School of Modeling at night and happily strutted his sausage-like body around in a G-string while hosting hot tub parties for really ugly people on the nights he was free. "How do I know this?" you may be asking. Because he proudly showed off pictures taken with his chic Kodak disc camera after each and every occasion. Lucky me.
Anyways, Barbazon took Ben's money for modeling classes for quite some time, but somewhere along the line Ben wised up and realized that there wasn't a market for 5'4", 250 pound models with frizzy, fake afro hair. So he quit and became a make-up artist instead.
(Mind you, Virginia at the pharmacy had a wedding to go to and Ben offered to do her make up for free in an effort to get client referrals. I've never seen your average housewife turned into a $5 hooker quite like that before…it would have made a great Jenny Jones episode.)
Soon afterward, Ben left the small world of our retail pharmacy for bigger and better things: Make up consulting for Lord and Taylor at fabulous Lakeside Mall. Mind you, Jay's mom (whose name is Paula) also works at the very same Lord and Taylor and would entertain Jay and me with these completely off the wall stories about the new make up artist at work. After a few of these stories and in what could be described as a “Captain Obvious” moment, I realized the lunatic Paula was talking about was the one and only Ben.
The kicker of these stories was when a male co-worker of Paula’s walked into the restroom to do his business. Some serious grunting and groaning was taking place in the stall followed by some fierce explosions. A few minutes later, out walks Ben, acting as if everything is hunky-dory and completely bypasses the whole hand washing thing. If that’s not disgusting enough, remember what Ben does for a living…yep, a few minutes later, he had his hands ALL OVER some poor, unsuspecting woman’s face. I think I’m gonna throw up.
So, Nancy, to answer your questions, yes, I wash my hands after every time, but I am not consistent about washing before. If I’ve sneezed or have a cold, yes, but if I’m lounging around my house, I can’t say I always do. When I flush in public, I never touch the handle, which usually results in a one-footed balancing act so I can use my shoe. I always use a paper towel to open the door too. Oh, I once saw on Oprah that most people don’t wash long enough for the soap to effectively kill germs. You need to scrub for at least 10 seconds, or roughly the amount of time it takes to sing “Happy Birthday.” So if you’re ever waiting behind me for the sink and are thinking “WTF is taking so long,” it’s because I haven’t finished singing “Happy Birthday” to Oprah yet.