My nose

I, like most of the population of the planet, have a nose. It resides in an otherwise vacant portion of my face, between and below my eyes, directly above my mouth. It is, sadly, a little on the large side, but my mum says that it adds character to my face, and that she thinks I'm handsome... so nyer. My nose has been both the giver and receiver of numerous gifts over the years. It has been broken many times - once, when it was broken at a gig in Sydney's Lansdowne Hotel, I set it myself in the bathroom because I didn't want to miss the band that I was there to see. But to truly capture the essence of my nose, I feel that I must share with you the reasons why I love it so much... Things going in. I have been known to enjoy putting things in my nose from time to time. When I was little, I once put a bead up my nose, and - predictably - it got stuck. It stayed there for a week or so, until finally mum caught me digging around in my nostril with a pencil in a fairly determined attempt to dislodge the round, wooden blockage. She did something that only a mother could do. After she had panicked, threatened to call an ambulance and roundly (but gently) abused me for being so silly, she grabbed my head, pinched my mouth shut and blew up my unblocked nostril. The bead shot out of my nose quite quickly, followed shortly thereafter by a week's worth of accumulated boogers. I clapped my little hands in delight, for I could smell properly once again. My mother, from that day on, has been my hero. Things coming out. Everyone gets boogers, even supermodels. I get big boogers because I ride a motorcycle, and it's an occupational hazard that dust, dirt and the occasional wayward insect will find their way in, only to picked out at the earliest available opportunity. The worst thing that ever came out of my nose is quite a disgusting story, but I'll share it now, in the interests of public health and safety. When I was younger, I liked to drink. I enjoyed the pleasant numbing sensation of large quantities of bourbon, or vodka, or beer depending on what day of the week it was, and what I could afford. One afternoon, a mate had a me and some other mates around for a BBQ, where he served crisp, cold beers and piping hot sausages. I ate too many of the sausages, and drank far too many of the beers. As a result, later that night, I was ill. For days afterwards I couldn't breathe very well through my nose, and there was a weird smell in the air... I couldn't quite figure it out. Eight days passed, and the smell was worse. I thought I was going mad - no one else could smell this rancid stench, and I still couldn't breathe... and then I sneezed. There was an explosion of pain, and the smell was worse than ever, but I distinctly felt something move inside my face. I dug around in there for a few minutes, and then blew my nose. Imagine my surprise when I inspected the contents of the tissue (as people do), only to find a chunk of week-old sausage that had stowed away in my sinus cavity. Things I can do with my nose My nose has a couple of tricks I can make it do. If I hold the end just the right way and breathe out briskly, I can make a sound just like a kazoo. The cartilage in my nose isn't particularly well attached to the bones of my face, so I can move my nose from side to side, up near the bridge, to the disgusted delight of any audience. Most of all, I like to smell things with my nose. I understand that this isn't a particularly unique feat of mine, but I do gain an inordinate amount of pleasure from certain scents. Fresh bread is one such scent. My nose has been an excellent early warning system too, sparing me the indignities of stepping in dog shit on a hot summers day while walking barefoot through the backyard, or warning me of an approaching fire front while out camping with some friends. I like my nose, my large nostriled friend, and I like to think that on cold winter's nights, my nose likes me enough to snuggle up a little closer to my face while I sleep, sharing its warmth and letting me know that it loves me too.

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