I cannot believe so many people are interested in my snot. I don’t know whether to be flattered or horrified.
Actually, I’ll pick flattered, because my mother is horrified enough for most of the world. Apparently–much like my use of “suck” as abhored by my old advisor–my usage of the word “snot” is disturbing. My mother would prefer that I use the word “mucous.”
I think the word MUCOUS sounds wet and squishy and like squids might be sliding around in your sinuses, ready to *plop* into your lap at any moment. The word makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It makes me gag a little. On the other hand, the word SNOT doesn’t bother me at all. But it bothers my mom enough to cause her to tell me about how when she was in college, girls weren’t allowed to wear pants. I’m sure it was related, somehow. (Kidding, Mom! I was hanging on your every word!)
So from now on, for the comfort of all concerned, I’d like us all to refer to THAT SUBSTANCE as “nose pudding.”
My particular nose pudding is packed so tightly into my head that it’s rather uncomfortable. It took me all day today to figure out that perhaps the cold itself isn’t bothering me all that much; it might, in fact, be the cold medicine I’m taking that’s knocking me on my ass. (Ass. Can I say ass? I was rendered seated, I mean.) Anyway, I took a decongestant this morning and then had a nap and woke up groggy. I figured it was the cold.
After I took the same decongestant again this afternoon and the room began to spin around me, I got a clue that it might be the cure rather than the illness. I’m not sure when I became so sensitive to over-the-counter cold medicine, but I guess I prefer a sinus headache to feeling like I’m trapped on the merry-go-round. From now on I vow only to decongest at bedtime! Or before heading out to a rave!
I’m not sure if it was because I was slightly stoned (entirely possible), but Chickadee had a music program at school tonight and it was FABULOUS. Normally I hate these things. You’re packed in like sardines with a million other parents holding cameras and camcorders and younger siblings who don’t want to be there, and then the kids come out on stage and pick their noses and giggle with their friends and wave and after about an hour of this, everyone goes home. Meh.
So, like I said, maybe second grade music is enhanced by sudafed. Or maybe this particular show really was cute. Or maybe the kids are finally getting old enough to DO what they’re supposed to be doing, and watching them concentrate SO HARD on their parts is enough to entertain even the most jaded spectator. I cannot say for sure.
This year’s theme was “Music from around the world,” and the kids were asked to wear t-shirts featuring either America or other countries. Chickadee of course seized this opportunity to wear the t-shirt Karen sent from Trinidad. She was quite pleased to have the only Trinidad shirt (go figure). She joined the teeming mass of 7- and 8-year-olds on stage and our evening of music began.
World music requires multiple xylophones, bongos, bells, tamborines, and other assorted musical objects. Every song they did sounded vaguely tribal. The kids who played instruments furrowed their brows in concentration while the remaining choir behind them sang at the top of their lungs. Like, they did something called a Mexican Hat Dance, which I thought was going to be instrumentals only. But suddenly the kids busted out with:
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA
*mumble* *mumble* HAT *mumble* FROM OLD MEX-ICO!
That’s some quality music, right there. Especially when shouted at top volume by a hundred kids.
Their American selection was a delightful train song–necessitating singing EVEN LOUDER than before. When it broke into (screeching) rounds I thought I was going to go deaf. But in a good way.
Oh, and then there were two dance numbers. The first closely resembled what would’ve happened if the munchkins had been instructed to country line dance down the yellow brick road. The second involved a lot of disco moves and the Uma Thurman Pulp Fiction V-fingers thing, which made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to pee.
Afterwards we tromped through the school looking at all of the kids’ artwork, which had been suspended from the ceiling just for this occasion. So many proud parents, wandering around, peering skyward, crashing into each other and stepping on small children… it was perhaps not the best-planned event, no, but it had its moments.
And now my nose pudding and I are going to bed, probably with dreams of mexican hats screaming about Engine Number 9.
Nose pudding. I am filing that one away to use the next time I have boogers dripping out of my nose!
Not intended as a commercial…. but Aleve Cold & Sinus works well on my nose pudding.
Mir my dear you are always charming, but how on God’s green earth did you come up with nose pudding? You may have just started my rather late but much needed diet.
Please go buy yourself some AIRBORNE. I swear by it. And it is much tastier from fizzy tablet #1 thru three days later, than Coldeeze which was my former drug of choice. While you’re suppose to use it at the first sign of a cold to block it, when you actually are suffering a cold Airborne lessens the symptoms. (end of celebrindal product endorcement)
Feel better – soon.
Nose Pudding. I wonder if even Bill Cosby could’ve sold this newest of the Jello brand instant puddings.
yeah, well no one PUKED
Somehow to me, “nose pudding” is *much* grosser than “snot”. I’m sure it’s the equating of it to some sort of food that does it for me.
Coming from a very medical family, I have always been partial to the term “nasal ejaculate”.
Nose Pudding would be a great name for a band. Just sayin’
Snot is on my mom’s list of forbidden words. She thinks it is vulgar. You can’t say sucks around her either.
Good luck with all that nose pudding.
First I have to say, rudolf, man, ewwwww.
Secondly, the mere thought of watching a stage full of 8 year olds doing the Pulp Fiction dance made me weep with laughter. I wish you could send Chickadee over to teach my Monsterboy the moves. Too funny.
ewwwwwwww. oh, and did i mention? ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! I don’t mind the word snot, have the same reaction as you to mucous. But that other thing, your new term, is just too gross for me to even type.
You don’t need to go buy all those fancy schmancy remedies. Just tilt your head back and squirt a ton of salt water down your nose until you feel it running down your throat. Let it all run back out your nose, then blow. Your nose. Not anything else. My mom has allergies, and she does this every day. It worked for me when I was so stopped up I had an ear infection. But you need a LOT of tissue.
Nose pudding sounds even worse, imo. Around here we call them bats…as in “you got bats in your caves?” when we have boogers. Ahhh, bats, sigh.
You can always up the gross ante with MOIST.
Moist Nose Pudding.
GAD!! I am with Aimee…can’t even type it, and reading it over and over was making me slightly woozy and gaggy. Give me snot any day. Wait. Allergies. Tree infested city. I HAVE snot all the time! If I had the new term for it, I would be puking. UGH.
Also, Airborne is da BOMB. I have not had a full blown cold or flu for 2 years. I hit the Airborne right away and take it like instructed and it just flat out works. So. The saltwater also helps for nasal stuffiness, but will not stop a cold.
One last thing. I missed a few days, and had to catch up a little. If this TD&H guy is for real…he is such a keeper. That’s all I’m sayin’. Except you totally deserve it. OK, that‘s all I’m sayin’. Too. The End. :D
All of this talk reminded me of a little ditty from when I was about twelve:
Everybody’s doing it (doin’ it)
Picking their nose and chewing it (chewin’ it)
Thinking it’s bubble gum, but it’s not!
I understand that a fantastic cure for a head cold is a dozen roses and breakfast in bed.
(*waves to TD&H*)
My friend’s husband has reactions like yours to Sudafed, she won’t let him take it any more. He doesn’t describe them as well as you though!
I think the word “snot” is almost musical (har!) compared to both mucous and nose pudding (eeeuuuwwwww!!!)
My dad and I get into this sort of thing regarding what word to use for throwing up. He thinks he’s being oh-so-proper when he calls it “regurgitating”, but that word makes me want to puke, ralph, hurl, and toss my cookies.
Well, when you read that the side-effects are “tachycardia, anxiety, restlessness, insomnia; rarely hallucinations, rash; urinary retention also reported”, you might wanna rethink using Sudafed! I get that drunky/woozy feeling with any drug that contains codeine…. not actually as fun as it sounds! Hope the nose pudding disappears soon!
So…would boogers then be the equivalent of pudding skin?
After a night in the house of gastrointestinal ejaculate..(hey, he started it) nose pudding would be a piece of cake ;)
Nose pudding is WRONG. The name I mean. STOP IT.
I am in full snot mode myself. I am sneezing so freaking hard that tears are flying out of my eyes and sticking to the back of my glasses. I drove 3 blocks to the video store and it was like toothpicks were being jammed in my eyes….SO MUCH FUN!
I don’t take cold drugs because decongestants are so buzzy I might as welll be a meth addict, and antihistamines send me to sleepland for multiple days at a time.
I am on my third box of Puffs Plus with Lotion. Can I quit playing the snot game now? I admit defeat.
Whatever you’re taking, I want some!
Nose pudding. Oh, that sentence had me cracking up.
Okay…I already have a SERIOUS aversion to snot…er mucous…er nose pudding.
Ugh. I don’t really know how many times I can see the new terminology without vomiting on my keyboard.
Still, glad to hear that you had an enjoyable evening despite the nose pudding. *shudder*
Booger is one of my all time favorite words.
And one of my all-time favorite taunts. As in, “Cheater, cheater, booger eater!”
“Maybe second grade music is enhanced by Sudafed.”
I know this to be true. Heck, they should hand it out with the programs.
Now my little nose puddingette, what you need is steam. You have some serious boogerage going on in there – it to be packed as tightly as asbestos insulation. Steam is your answer. Tell the kids you’re playing Little House on the Prairie, The Croup Years, and get the biggest pot of boiling water you can carry and place it on the floor in front of you. Drape a large blanket over your head and the pot. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth, repeat. A shot of sasperilla and whiskey would maintain the pioneer atmosphere and add to your overall experience.
Soon your asbestos boogerage will soften to pudding, then to Hollandaise. When you get to Alfredo stage, blow gently and consistently into appropriate receptacle (which doesn’t have to be a spittoon, I am sure the children will forgive the historical inaccuracy of a Kleenex, but for extra mother-grossing-out points you can try the ol’ squeeze and fling)
Best wishes for a swift recovery.
We call it (them) snerkies, and it includes both boogers and snot. Then we differentiate between insnerkling (as in, stop it!) and outsnerkling (which, one would hope, involves a kleenex, but we’re still refining that one with the five-year-old).
If that helps…
Nose Pudding! ROFLMAO!