We're friends, right?
I mean I'm not going to ask you to be in my fictional wedding - and you probably won't have me watch your dog when you take that well deserved vacation to Denver this winter - but I'd say we're friendly.
Well I gotta tell ya something.
I love picking my nose.
Oh don't act like you don't go digging for gold every now and then. When you got a boog up there hanging out and getting comfy it feels like you accidentally snorted a small dagger.
But where is the proper place to get after it? In the bathroom? In your bedroom?
Judging by where I see it most, it's on the drive to work. I have never seen so many people knuckle deep as on my morning commute. Put your SUV on cruise control, cash in your ticket for the booger train and go! Go! Go!
I drive past business man after business man with a varying selection of fingers rammed up their shnoz. The pointer finger for dexterity, the middle finger for big jobs and, for those crustaceans that act like a scared badger backed into a corner - the pinky.
But the car is also dangerous. Let's say the person in front of you slams on their brakes and you are digging around playing "Where's Waldo" with a snot raisin - you are in serious danger of jamming your middle finger so far up your nose your brain thinks you are telling it to fuck off.
I come to you to be educated, dear Reader - please bestow upon me your favorite place to pick your nose.