Ewwww.

My husband said something disgusting to me last night. I know, shocking. This man has no shame about anything. Bodily functions are fair game in his world, no matter who is present. He's icky. I'm so lucky.

So he was sitting on the couch, picking at his armpit. I was in the middle of cooking a gourmet meal of spaghetti and frozen garlic bread when he wandered into the kitchen, one arm over his head. He hept alternating between scratching the exposed pit with the opposite hand and trying to look at it. Caveman, I'm telling you - and I'm talking early caveman, when they were one step from monkeys. I asked him what he was doing. Oh, how I wish I hadn't.

"If I get you a razor blade, would you lance something off for me?"

Huh? "I'm sorry, honey. My medical license expired yesterday. If you had only asked me last week. What the hell do you need lanced out of your armit?"

It's called a lance, helllloooooo.

"I don't know, it's like a bump or something."

A bump that requires lancing with a razor blade. Riiiiigggght. That's going to happen.

My husband is constantly cutting at himself with razor blades, not in a tickle me emo way, just in a stupid man way. He used my callous shaver a couple of months ago to shave some dry skin off his elbow. Word of advice: don't ever try that. It bled for an hour and took weeks to heal. Even after losing a bucket of blood and not being able to rest his elbows on the table for a month, it still seemed like a good idea to him to try it again.

"But look at all the new, fresh skin on my elbow! It's so nice. I need to do the other one now that it's healed." Fresh new skin is not the same as scar tissue, hon.

I've caught him trimming his toenails with an exacto knife more times than I can count. We have approximately 147 pairs of nail clippers in my house. Granted, 146 of them are hiding out with all the missing socks in house purgatory somewhere, but still - we have clippers. The thing about his toenails is that he likes to cut them really short. Shorter than he can get them with clippers. He's obsessive about it. If you're wondering, "Doesn't he ever cut himself with the exacto knife?" the answer is yes. Yes, he does.

He's a smart guy most of the time, but good grief - put him in the same room with a razor blade of any kind and someone's coming out bleeding. I keep getting rid of them, and he keeps bringing more home. I purged the house of all blades one day, and he found my scissors and used those. That was a bad cut.

I assume it must be a genetic mutation attached to his y chromosome that causes him to do things like shave his elbows and pick his nose in public. Aside from becoming a genetic scientist, targeting the abnormality and blasting it into gene heaven, I suppose there's not much I can do. I'll just keep a box of bandaids in the house and pretend like I don't know him in public. It's a good thing I love him.

If he had as much common sense as he did love for the razor blade, well.... maybe he wouldn't love a razor blade so much.