Yucked-out

There's something about thick, black, crinkly hairs that yucks me out more than anything else. I think that subconsciously I'm just being reminded of the grossest thing that ever happened over the course of working at a library.

I'm a bookworm and enjoy the pursuit of knowledge, so working at the library was really my kind of gig. It wasn't highpaying or anything...I was just a page at the time (and *no* that wasn't just a bad joke, that really was our official job title). It could get dull- we were occasionally made to do ultra-ennui-invoking tasks such as shelf reading: the code words for opening every book on a shelf and making sure that it was labeled correctly, had been checked in, and was filed properly. Major yawn, OK? But anyways, overall I was in love with the opportunity to be exposed to new reading material juxaposed with the chance to help people answer their innermost burning questions (OK, that's a little over the top, considering that it was a quaint, local branch with a limited collection that I was employed at, but....) To get to the point, one unfortunate day found me checking in books left in the bookdrop from the previous night. One book in particular had a "present" of sorts. It contained a sizable clump of large, black, most likely pubic hairs with lots of dried white stuff flaking off all over the place. Now a good reporter would be able to tell you the subject matter, title, or hopefully the most recent borrower of that book, but that book hit the trash can so fast that it made Nolan Ryan's pitches look slow.
Anyways, that's why I have a hyper-aversion to "pubes" as I fondly like to call them (I say "hyper" because don't we all have some aversion to the the disembodied pubic hair? I mean really...)

And there was one on the toilet this past trip. Thank you.