Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Dr. StrangeGlove

I can't decide if it's a hygienic practicality or a new depth of vanity, but I've started wearing latex gloves at work. I noticed after my first few weeks that my cuticles were getting into a hell of a state, and it occurred to me that the high volume of paper-handling I do is what was drying them out; besides, the more paper you push in a given day, the greater your chances of getting paper-cuts, and my fingers looked like I'd been attacked by pixies wielding tiny knives.

So one day last week, disgusted with my hands, I went and got a good manicure during my lunch break; and on the way back to the office, I bought a box of latex surgical gloves, and started wearing them when I do my literature fulfillments and kit-builds (AKA envelope-stuffing and manual collating). And now, after a week of latex gloves and incessant lotioning, my hands look fabulous!

It's also kind of fun pretending to be a CSI while I'm wearing my gloves, like I'm Greg Sanders sifting through terribly important evidence. Or I pretend that I'm mailing letter-bombs ("here's one for Fred Phelps snickersnickersnicker, here's one for the Bush family snickersnickersnicker, here's one for Madonna snickersnickersnicker...). Or I don't pretend anything, I just do my work and hum along to the music on my headphones (showtunes and disco, natch). I wonder, though, if the other people in the office think I've gone quite mad... surgical gloves aren't the usual accessory in the cubicled halls of Finance.

I also wonder if it's normal to be sexually excited by the scent of latex. One of these days, someone is going to come into my cubicle and catch me sniffing my gloved fingers and moaning softly, fantasizing about biting my dentist. Though they are more likely to find me pushing air-bubbles around on the backs of my hands, fascinated by the sensation of the latex sticking to and separating from my sweat-soaked skin (the gloves I bought are a little too small, One Size Fits All my ass), chasing the bubbles around to my palm or up to my wrist or out to my fingertips... it's very distracting sometimes.

And now I wonder if perhaps I've shared a little too much information. Oh, well, it surely cannot surprise you, my faithful reader, to discover that I am a freak.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Do You Ever Wonder...

Do you ever wonder what human flesh tastes like? Do you ever wonder what it would be like to hit the ground after a leap from a very tall building, would you feel the impact in slow degrees or would you not even feel it all all it happens so fast? Do you ever wonder who was first hungry enough to find out whether or not an artichoke is edible? Do you ever wonder what it would be like to die while having an orgasm? Do you ever wonder why hot dogs come in packages of ten while hot dog buns come in packages of eight? Do you ever wonder if true Peace on Earth would be so boring that we'd all die of the ennui if it were ever achieved? Do you ever wonder why some animals are fascinated by poo and other animals are disgusted by it? Do you ever wonder whether you'd hear that wierd crunchy sound when you're stabbed, or if you'd be so shocked you couldn't hear the knife entering your flesh? Do you ever wonder why antibiotics are prescription-only? Do you ever wonder how yodeling was invented? Do you ever wonder whether the colors you see are the same colors that other people see, or if you're just seeing different colors but using the same words for them?

Or is it just me?