I’m not a hugger – unless I know you.
In reality, even then, I may not hug you.
It’s nothing personal. I prefer to keep a hoola hoop size safety zone around me at all times, whenever possible.
Of course there are definite situations when this doesn’t work. Examples: elevators, dance floors, receptions, bars, grocery store lines, airplanes, Costco food sample tables….you get the idea.
I’m also short.
Hugging can be awkward.
I don’t necessarily want to end up in my friend’s pillowy cleavage. But thanks for the offer! Not to be rude….but let’s avoid the “eye to boob” contact – thanks.
99% of the people have to do a full bend to hug me – that’s awkward for them….appreciative to me. In fact I usually stand up on my tip toes in return. Cutting off at least 2 inches in the bend.
For the hugger, one of three things happen.
- A full squat to hug me (which only leads them to the thought of, I could pick her up and swing her around….)
- They bend at the waist, allowing their butt to stick out far enough to hamper traffic movements around them.
- We do a side hug and I get tucked into their armpit.
Now you see why I prefer the hoola hoop – there’s safety in the no touch environment. It’s my little world inside the hoop and I prefer to keep it that way. Which is nice, have you seen some of these people running loose out there? Makes me want to hand them a Sani-wipe!
Not too long ago I was on the verge, it hasn’t left my mind completely, of bringing my own silverware with me to restaurants. It’s one of the first things I check. Not just mine but I look at others as well. On more than one occasion I have sent a friend’s silverware back due to being unclean.
Then I realized, with horror, if I brought my silverware, I may as well bring my own glassware and plate. I’m certainly not going to haul around a wheeled carry on bag everywhere I go, so I’m going to have to live with whatever is on the plate. At least I can check the glassware for lipstick.
So what do you do when you see the glass is clean – no lipstick, dried crusty food bits or other things that make you go “no thanks” yet you’re going with your gut and that scratch may be more than just a scratch on the glass? Do what I do – the lip roll.
Position glass just under your lower lip line.
Curl lower lip over glass edge.
Yes, I could use a straw, but I don’t want lines in my face later on in life. People will think I lived my life either as a chronic smoker, or worse yet…a habitual pole smoker. Let’s just move on.
Bathrooms…..wouldn’t be so disgusting if it wasn’t for the people using them. Are people using a different set of manners in public restrooms than they would at home? If home bathrooms are being used in the same manner as the public bathroom, we’re in trouble.
Several things disturb me:
Moaners. These are the women who are moaning and groaning during the entire process. From unzip to rezip. Really? Is it necessary? With the occasional sigh thrown in as their ass hits the seat. Which makes my stomach turn as the hazard sign blinks, “don’t sit on the seat!”
Piddlers. If you pee (or worse) on the seat – wipe it up. It’s YOUR bodily fluid – not mine. Do you do this at home? Send in the Ebola team, we have a contagion. Makes me faint just thinking about it.
Lovers. I know what you’re thinking – shame on you. I’m talking about the over the top Mother Earth lovers. Those who only flush once a day in order to save the water levels, save the rats in the sewage system and keep the earth green . I love the earth. However if you’ve taken a poo – be kind to the next in line – flush it!
Wash Your Hands. Forget it. Telling John Q Public the way to prevent illness is to wash your hands frequently is like trying to convince a dog not to roll in dead salmon. It’s the same outcome. The dog thinks, “but it smells so good.” John Q. Public says, “but I didn’t get anything on myself.” Really? Tell that to the next person who comes down with e coli.
Speaking of washing your hands, I had a moment in a public restroom while I was washing my hands. A lady comes up to the sink and only used one hand.
- Turned the faucet on with her right hand.
- Rinsed her right hand.
- Got a paper towel with her right hand.
Which can only mean one thing: she wipes with her right hand. Why not wash both hands? Is the left one NOT dirty? Did you not touch anything with the left hand?
The people who immediately comes out of the stall and grabs a paper towel to turn on the water at the sink crack me up! Not wanting to touch the water knobs because, “all those dirty hands are touching them and it’s gross!” Ponder me this…did those same dirty hands not touch the latch to get out of the stall? Just curious.
Disturbing isn’t it?
Think of all the things you touch in a day, that someone else has touched. Handles, buttons, pens, latches, doors, boxes, railings, carts, hands, arm rests, counters, money….etc, etc.
Which leads me to traveling on planes. Everyone take a deep breath….they’re like bathrooms but different. Horrified? Makes me sweat a little just thinking about it.
As soon as I sit down, I get out my Sani-wipes and wipe down my hoola hoop safety zone. Seriously, how many other people have sat there before me? When was the last time any of this has been wiped down? With a sanitizer? Arm rests, seat belt buckle, head rest and the tray table – anything I am going to touch, I’m wiping down.
Tray tables are like petri dishes – who knows what has been on them! Forget the seat pocket. I don’t want to think about what has gone inside those little hot pockets. Could be everything from dirty diapers to flu ridden tissues or vomit bags. Nope. Keep it. I’m not touching it or the magazine – this isn’t a cracker jack box with a surprise inside! Technically, there is a surprise, you just have to wait 48 hours to see what you get.
Traveling on airplanes is like going to the zoo – you never know what show will be happening during your visiting hours. Could be screaming new born or adult hysterics. A guinea pig running amok. Drunk and newly discovered love birds. Or someone trying to find their bottle of aspirin.
When you drop something on the floor and you can’t easily locate it – an Emily Post solution would be to ask those rows around you to see if it rolled under their seat.
Are you shy and afraid to ask? Then ring the flight attendant. They can ask for you. Our personal space is only so big and we’ll be happy to look around our space to see if we can help locate your lost item.
However if you are determined not to bother anyone and think the solution is to get down on your hands and knees….patting the floor from two rows in front of you to three rows behind you….please for the love of the other passengers WASH YOUR HANDS afterwards!
If you think seeing a grown adult, on all fours, going up and down the aisle….while talking to themselves… isn’t going to draw attention then your world must be filled with unicorns and glittery pixies.
Big ol’ butt coming at you….backing up….beep…beep….excuse me. How you like me now?
Big ol’ fuzzy head of hair come at you….excuse me…..have you seen my bottle of aspirin?
Better half yelling from their spectator seat: Did you find it? Well look under the seats!
Nearby passengers are hoping the cart with the little tiny bottles comes by very soon – otherwise they’re hitting the button.
I’m thinking we should provide a mandatory sani-gel rinse as people get on a plane. Wipe ’em down folks and keep your hands to yourself.