So, what I'm going to do is not regale you with my fitness awesome, its my blog, DEAL. My red ball. MY RULES.
I've put together a few informative sciency type posts back to back, and its time to unleash the hounds again. Time for things to get real!
I write because I enjoy it, and so, with this installment, I'm going to share a part of my life that only one other person (the one I married) knows about. Oh, and its 100% true. Trust me people, with my life, truth is definitely stranger than fiction.
I'm going to share one of the most traumatic things I've ever experienced. Something that soured my soul and crushed my view of humanity. Something so vile, you may not be able to ever shake another person's hand again.
So, without further ado, I give you:
"Los empleados deben lavarse las manos antes de regresar al trabajo."
I'm a decent human being. I watch Batman cartoons. I pay full fair at Batman movies (oh, I could buy Senior or student tickets on Fandango at a cheaper price, BUT I PAY FULL RATE PEOPLE!). I don't even openly rat out in public people who use a bathroom and walk out without washing their hands, DIE SCUMBAG VERMIN!! See, good person.
Actually, funny story on this one. I went to a wedding one time, and to push fast forward, I met one of these knuckle dragging mouth breathers.
She was in the bathroom, and the committed one of the biggest atrocities against humanity that you can. At least in my sense of reality, which, as we know, is obviously the right one.
After she was done, I hear the flush, but no sink. And then she walked out without washing. Oh, it gets better. Not only does she have soiled hand hooves, she promptly sneezed into her right hand. Yep, sneezes, after not washing.
I immediately thought "MY GOD! What rock did you ooze out from under???? You're like one step above an amoeba in the gene pool, and that's being generous."
The next one that hit me was WHAT THAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO "Los empleados deben lavarse las manos antes de regresar al trabajo." And yet, she walked out of the bathroom, completely skipping over the whole "lavarse las manos" thing. And then she launches projectile phlegm into her hand.
HEY! WAIT JUST A DARN MINUTE BUSTER! This is not in line with the code.
Humans don't do this, well 5-year-olds do, but aged people don't. How could she do this? How could she not honor the code of decency we are all secretly held accountable for? WHO DOES THAT??
So, naturally I go back to our table and point out this transgression against humanity to Jill and tell her to avoid this woman like the plague. To which she responds:
"Seriously? This is what bothers you?"
"BUT SHE DIDN'T....."
"Why do I take you anywhere???"
"THAT'S GROSS, C'MON YOU KNOW IT IS!!"
"Just shut up and don't embarass me."
"SHE SNEEZED IN HER HAND TOO!!!"
(EYE ROLL + HUGE SIGH)
WHAT??? How could my wife, my best friend, the person I would take a bullet for, forsake me like this???? HOW!!!
So at this point, I realize I'm now on a one man mission to fight for humanity, and as my plan is forming in my head, it happened. We got up, started walking around and we see a friend we haven't seen in a while.
Who, IS SITTING WITH "NO LAVERSE LAS MANOS!!!!!" How could my friend associate with such a creature? DOESN'T SHE KNOW THE KIND OF PERSON SHE'S DEALING WITH????
And, all of sudden as we get closer to the table, I spy the entity. The very person who offended my sense of existence more than anyone had in a quite a while.
There she was. Touching things that other people were touching. BREATHING THE SAME AIR I WAS BREATHING. EXHALING HER POOPY PAW'D PHLEGM!!!
Laughing. Smiling. With an almost smug look on her face that said "HA!! I'M GETTING AWAY WITH THIS AND THERE'S NOTHING SOCIABLY ACCEPTABLE YOU CAN DO TO THWART ME. WE ARE AT A WEDDING, WHATTA YOU GONNA DO TOUGH GUY!!"
So, since fate likes to sucker punch me in my underoos from time to time, guess who I get introduced to????? Yep, you guessed it, the no "laverse las manos" woman. C'MON LADY LUCK, WTF????
So, as she sticks out her hand, a million things are going through my mind all stemming around: "DUDE! THIS WOMAN HAS POOPY PAWS!!"
How can I get out of shaking her hand without embarrassing my wife, keeping my dignity AND LET HUMANITY KNOW THIS WOMAN SHOULD HAVE THE SCARLET "ESTE PERSONA NO LAVE SUS MANOS ANTES DE REGRESAR TRABAJO" BADGE ON HER BLOUSE. Which really wasn't cute btw. At all. We're talking straight up Tim Gunn would wretch and double over at seeing this epic fashion FAIL.
So, here comes her right hand...
(CUE HANS ZIMMER BATMAN BEGINS SCORE HERE. The good part, you know, when Batman was trying to save Rachel from the Scarecrow's fear gas as he screams "RACHEL!!!" right as she passes out)
MY GOD WHAT DO I DO!!!
I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!!
Hey, that cheesecake looks pretty damn good. OOOOOOO! Are those red velvet cupcakes? DUDE!! I HOPE THEY HAVE BUTTERCREAM FROSTING!!
Hey, I know that guy, what's up man!
IF ONLY I COULD I SCREAM "ESTE PERSONA NO LAVE SUS MANOS ANTES DE REGRESAR TRABAJO" AND WARN PEOPLE!!!
(HANS ZIMMER AS HER HAND GETS CLOSER!!!)
WHY IS JILL STEPPING ON MY FOOT!! OUCH WOMAN, DON'T PINCH MY ARM!!
OH GOD, I HAVE TO PUT MY RIGHT HAND OUT!!
(HANS!!!! GD!!! ZIMMER!!!)
Our. Hands. Are. Going. To. Touch......
OH. MY. GOD. I AM SO GROSSED OUT!!!
And then it happened. We made contact. And then a part of me died.
The part that had faith in humanity. The part that thought the world was safe. The very essence of my life force, gone. And then, I felt cold, I felt lifeless. Alone. I. FELT. VIOLATED.
Not only was I betrayed by my wife, I was given the finger by not only lady luck, but the fates themselves. So naturally, smiling gritting my teeth hard enough to turn a diamond into coal with my jaw, I acknowledged this vermin.
"Hi (insert name of HUMANITY HATER here), I'm Al, nice to meet you."
But, it wasn't nice to meet her. It was down right horrible. It was trauma at its most traumatic. We're talking finding out the fat man in the red suit at Christmas is some dime store hooligan who reeks of old spice with burps stamped "hecho de Jack Daniels."
Naturally, I limited this meeting to about a nanosecond before I GOT THE HELL OUT OF DODGE AND INTO THE BATHROOM SO I COULD LAVERSE MIS MANOS ANTES DE A TRABAJO. If you've seen the "Crying Game," you know how vigorously I scrubbed. I was s rubbing fort very life!! I was trying to wash the stench of the complete breakdown of humanity off my hands with the force of a thousand belt sanders.
THERE WERE SPARKS PEOPLE FROMY HANDS RUBBING TOGETHER WOTH SUCH FURY!!!
And then, once I hit bone, I stopped. Shaking, I may have even been crying, its all so disturbing. I've repressed so much because I can't bring myself to look into that mirror, to relive the horror from that afternoon.
And then I walked out back to our table. Only to be greeted with "that look" from Jill. The one that says "Really? REALLY?????"
I showed her my raw, red, belt sanded hands and immediately said:
"I washed my hands like a big boy!!!!"
To which she responded:
"What's wrong with you????"