Each Monday, I join my neighbor, Pier (and some times other neighbors as well) for trivia at the closest bar to our building, American Fresh Brewhouse—Boynton Yards more commonly and easily referred to as Slumbrew. It's the tap room of a micro-brew and the place is a real wild card. Some times you're literally the only one there, sometimes it's standing room only.
This past Monday was pretty full. There was a party of fairly cute guys. the one on the end was no exception. Kind of jockish but definitely more armchair jockish.
Suddenly he dove in for a pick. Maybe he had a terrible itch to scratch? I could have been Ok with that. But as I watched from my peripheral vision, I saw him keep going in. I couldn't stop watching, like watching a lava lamp or fish tank.
But when he wiped it on his face, I then had to stop watching.
I'm guessing he didn't know he was doing it. Things like this make me wonder what am I doing right now that I have no awareness of? Am I picking my nose without realizing it???
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