I Nose What I's Talking 'Bout

A few people expressed some doubt about the authenticity of my stories. (I have send a few through email before.) I assure you that, save for a few minor changes to help the stories flow a little better, they are completely true. And yes, my family is really that wierd. In fact, I have to omit events, because no one who has not lived with us would ever believe them. Trust me, I don't have the imagination to make this stuff up.

The following normal...I mean, typical conversation in the Hamby living room took place (practically verbatim) just this evenng.

"I kept getting calls today. People thought my story was pretty funny. I had to do the hair modelling thing several times and..." I look over at my son (a different one this time) sitting next to me. His thumb is shoved up his nose, and he is snorting. "What are you doing?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing."

I stare at him a moment before deciding that I am better off not knowing. "So what's for dinner? I'm..."

"I only breath out of one of my nostrils."

"What?"

"One of my nostrils is useless. It wouldn't matter if it wasn't even there at all, because I don't use it. I wonder why that is? Maybe one nostril is smaller than the other."

I'm staring again. "What are you talking about? It's probably just clogged because of allergies or boogers or something."

By this time, he is alternating thumbs and snorting repeatedly into his hand held in front of his face. "No, it's not really clogged. But I definately get more air pressure out of the left side. Here, give me your hand. I'll show you."

"Uh, I don't think so. I think I'll skip the experience and take your word for it."

"Maybe," suggests my wife, Mona, "it's just stuffed up since it so dry in this house."

Thinking it couldn't get any more bizarre, my son looks at me, still with his thumb up his nose, and says in perfect seriousness, "You think I should squirt water up my nose?"