Strangers In The Nose

Ok . . . purely in the interest of blogging on topic for NaBloPoMo, I’m going to admit one of my stranger quirks from my childhood.

Here goes.

When I was three, I called boogers “strangers”.  I don’t know why.  I actually don’t remember the word “booger” being used in my house.  I don’t remember what Mom called boogers.  I think she didn’t really refer to them at all, or else she must have referred to them by a more clinical term.

Come to think of it, what is the clinical term for boogers?  Is there one?

But for whatever reason, I decided to call them strangers.  And after a little while, everyone in my family knew what I meant when I said the word, so I was apparently an effective communicator, even with the wrong word.

All I really remember about it is my mother laughing and imitating a family friend who used to come over and sing, “Strangers in the nose . . .”

I kind of tried to write a whole verse for that song, and I fully own up to the fact that I shouldn’t quit my day job . . .

Strangers in the nose,
Exchanging tissues,
Failing at first blow,
It’s still an issue,
The stranger in my nose,
It doesn’t want to leaaavvve . . .

Ah.  Yeah.  I’m hanging my head in shame.

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