Let’s make it the triple-mention it always deserved to be: I now have a name for the practice of shoving rolled-up tissue paper up my nose, which I do whenever I am ill and the snot factory is working overtime. Thank you then, Futurama, for giving me the name of ‘tissue walrus’. See here an image of Fry, someone I still identify with quite a lot, followed by an image of me, someone I identify with a little less, for what I’m on about:
Alright, so the image of me isn’t quite a walrus so much as it is a shitton of tissue up my nose, but shut up. The picture I was thinking of is printed on some kind of ‘paper’ substance, whatever that is, so there’s no way I’m bothering to put it into digital forms.
Anyway, I’ve always been laughed at by whoever has seen me adopting the tissue walrus to help get myself through a snotty situation, and I’ve never really understood why. I do it in my own home (or at friends houses, if they’re lucky) and it’s not like I leave the house looking like that. It saves tissue, it stops you from irritating your nose with constant wiping and it makes it easier in that you don’t have to pay attention to your hosing schnozz.
It makes sense.
It’s like how – when cooking for myself – I tend to put as much as I possibly can in one pan to cook all at once. If I’m having mashed potatoes, for example, I’ll put veg and stuff in with the potatoes to boil, then mash it all up into one. Yes, it looks like monkey vomit, but it tastes good and it’s easier. Why you gotta get all up in my grill about it?
Basically, leave me alone when I do awesome, time-saving things like these just because you think I look like a tit, or my food doesn’t look amazing, or I’ll end up killing someone or whatever other petty reason you come up with. If you don’t, I’ll leave my discarded tusks secreted around your house.