Got caught with your finger up your nose?
Allow me to whisper to my neighbor “What a gaffe!” And now to you directly, “How could you? What are you hoping to find up there?”
I may come from a different school of thought, a more neanderthal slovelny sort of mind set. We use our hands to eat and keep our mouths open while chewing. With a perpetual resting of elbows on the table, and where interrupting is commonplace, your granny wants no part of this. Then an impromptu mud wrastling throw down happens. Pounding of chests and gorilla calls follow. So perhaps I’m not a Miss Manners. But boogers happen to good people, bad people, and in between people. And those invasive beasts need to go.
Which brings me to my old mantra – it’s cool to pick your nose, as long as you don’t eat it. My dad does that. Ill nasts.
I cropped this so you cannot see my eyes in order to preserve my last shreds of dignity.