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A friend and I were talking today about what we notice when we first meet someone. What it is that flips that synaptic connection in our brain to the hormones of "yea" or "nay." For her it was the eyes. I told her that I liked noses. It's not like I have some sort of nose fetish. It's just that for me, it is the nose that makes the face. I like a big nose, a long nose, an aquiline nose. No cute little pixie noses, no upturned snouts. I want more than just a couple of holes sittin' on a face. I like a NOSE...a Gabriel Byrne nose, a Jean Reno nose, even a Gerard Depardieu nose. Of course, my friend was quick to point out that maybe my choice in noses was proportional to the length of my own. Perhaps...but I like my own nose too. I had the chance to get a nose job a few years ago after an unfortunate collision with someone's kitchen floor. Only time in my life I've ever fainted--in the Valley at some launch party for a cheesy German metal label. I was trapped in a room with too much smoke, shitty music, glam hair, and not enough oxygen to the brain. I did a full-on swan dive right onto the parquet. The doctor told me that my insurance would cover the whole procedure if I wanted to have "some work done." I did think about it for a few minutes. I ultimately decided that I'd rather have my old nose with a new bump than a face that looked vaguely familiar but wasn't mine. I told my friend that I didn't think it was so much that I wanted a nose similar to my own...I mean I'm short and fair, and I tend to like taller, swarthy types...the old opposites attract thing. I tried to explain that even a pair of dreamy eyes set aside a small child-like schnozzle just made me think of Wilbur, or worse...Bobby Brady. There's no explaining taste, I guess. But for this lifetime, those with the "petite proboscis" are safe from my fawning attention...but if you've got nice eyes, I have a friend who'd love to meet you.
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