Well, it's Monday, gloomy Monday, and I've got nothin' new so I'm going to tell you an old story that always makes me laugh, 'cause whether or not you can use a giggle today, I could sure handle it.
First, you know how a sneeze combined with a fart is (in addition to being incredibly embarrassing) called a 'snart'? You didn't know? Really? Well, it is. I like combo words like that... they make me laugh. My cousin Anne, who lives in New Zealand, told me one that made me chuckle for, like, 3 days. Her son Jack had a stomach bug and was feeling much like I was feeling on Friday night (you know, after I consumed the entire bag of prunes)... and, bless his little heart, he thought he was only going to fart but he... well... did a little more than that. Anne dubbed it a 'shart'. Funny, eh? Yeah, it runs in my family. The funny, not the runs. Well, sometimes...
ANYWAY, before I digress to the point of no return, this story isn't about snarts or sharts... it's about a 'sneeth'. What's a sneeth, you ask? Well, my bloggy friends, do read on...
About 100 years ago, I worked for a video retail company (like Blockbuster, but smaller), in the Operations Department at the corporate office. Part of my job was going out to the stores to do monthly evaluations and audits. One morning, I was in our largest store, looking at something behind the counter where Rob, the store manager, was working. An old man, ready to check out his movies, put them on the counter and handed Rob his video card and money. Then he backed up and took a deep breath, clearly gearing up for a massive sneeze. As he let it fly (without, I might add, covering his mouth), his false teeth flew out of his mouth, shot about 5 feet, and landed on the floor behind Rob and me.
Rob and I, stunned, looked at each other... looked at the teeth... looked at the man. The old guy, calm and seemingly unaffected, walked behind the counter, picked up the teeth, and just popped them back in. He took his bag from Rob without a word and just hobbled out of the store, as if a sneeth happened to him every day. And who knows? Maybe it did.
We burst out laughing, Rob doubled over the counter, me sinking to the floor. Luckily, we didn't have another customer for a while after, as I'm not sure either of us could've managed any sort of transaction that required us to stand up straight. It was months before we could look at each other without laughing. At Christmas, I gave him a tube of Effergrip, with a note that said, "For Sneeth Man."
Sometimes I miss that job.