We had several minutes before our writers group began, and I was looking at the books in the store where we hold our meetings. A woman walked up to me and said, "Excuse me, but do you know him?" She pointed towards Damon, a guy who had been in the group for a while.
"Yeah," I said.
"Could you give him this?" She held out a folded piece of paper.
"Sure." I took the note and walked it over to him.
Damon looked at the note and looked at the woman. The note had her phone number on it.
"That has happened to me for a while," he said, as if women giving him their phone numbers was an inconvenience.
For a while! I thought. So there have been other instances in your life where women just gave their phone numbers to you with absolutely no effort on your part! But you're just sitting there! You haven't done anything! You haven't even said a word to her, and she's just passing out her phone number willy-nilly like you're some kind of superstar! What in the world?
I smiled and nodded to my friend, as if maybe I had experienced the same "problem." Good grief. If a woman I never met gave me her phone number, I'd freak out. I'd be looking for the hidden cameras. "Okay," I'd say, "What TV show is this? Who put her up to it?"
I let the jealousy subside and rationalized the situation. I reminded myself that I knew something the woman (who was so free and loose with her phone number) would probably never find out: Damon was a snorter.
Before I continue, let me inform those of you who are thrown off by this sort of thing, that this is the point in the column when I change the subject and never come back to what I was originally talking about. I'm through discussing Damon's mysterious and mindless appeal to women, and I'm moving on to Damon's incredibly disgusting habit.
Damon does not snort coke (neither the drug nor the beverage); he just has a little sinus problem. And rather than blow his nose into a Kleenex like a civilized human being might do, he snorts. You may be familiar with this peculiar sound. Personally, I'd rather hear someone scream. In my ear.
I once went into a grocery store with a massive appetite, which, I realize, is something you're not supposed to do unless you want to spend half your paycheck and end up with a refrigerator filled with more food than you can possibly eat. But I was saved from this fate because, about halfway through the store, I found myself sharing an aisle with a snorter. Within seconds I was unloading my cart and putting all the food back where I found it. No longer hungry, I went home with a case of water and a pack of sticky notes.
My wife and I were in a movie theater once and, during the previews, a person with the snorting ailment sat down behind us and proceeded to make us nauseous. It was the only time in my life that I gave away my Junior Mints. And then we moved to another part of the theater.
That is why I would suggest that if you, yourself, have a snorting problem, perhaps you should stay out of movie theaters. Unless, of course, you are going to see a horror movie that has a lot of grotesque squishy things in it where nobody is going to notice it anyway. But, here's a thought: maybe you could get a job at Weight Watchers.
Regardless, if you continue to make these noises, please be advised that I will continue to make fun of you behind your back (and sometimes in front of your back) by making piggy noises, causing my wife to either giggle or gag, depending on her mood.
Meanwhile, for those of you who like congruity in their humor columns, this is the part where I reference earlier things in the column, thereby showing that things have come full circle, or, perhaps, things have made it halfway around the spiral, or, possibly, they have just zigzagged randomly all over the place. In this case I am kinda sorta referencing the earlier section in which I said I was changing topics, but now I am wrapping up the column. Hopefully this technique will alert the ever-watchful reader that the column has come to an end.