Grooism of the Day

Since Mr. Grooism is on hiatus, it falls to me to recount the Grooism of the Day. For those of you just joining us here, a Grooism is defined as "an act so stupid your remaining brain cells attempt suicide out of the sheer embarrassment of being associated with neurons that would let you do that." Paradoxically, it also triggers a biological need to tell people what you've done.

I got a run in my pantyhose at work this morning. I had neither nail polish nor hairspray (for the non-pantyhose-wearers in the audience, nail polish and hairspray are the most common ways to stop a pantyhose run from spreading). However, I did have superglue in the office supply closet, which some part of my brain obviously thought would work pretty much like nail polish for fixing the run. No part of my brain considered that liquid superglue is much runnier than nail polish and wouldn't just stick to the nylons. So, even though the superglue ran right through, I thought was still doing OK by engaging both hands to hold the pantyhose away from the pool of superglue on my leg. Then the phone rang.

If you thought that the stupidest part of this was going to be that I superglued my pantyhose to my leg, you are a rank amateur in the realm of Grooisms. For, you see, once you superglue your undergarments to your body, your first instinct is to try to undo what you have done--by pulling. I found out the hard way that the weak link in the chain of pantyhose-superglue-human skin is human skin. When one yanks at that particular combination, one does not so much remove the pantyhose from the skin as remove the first three layers of skin from the leg, leaving it attached to the pantyhose to chafe at the raw area of flesh for the rest of the workday. On top of all that, I still have a half-dollar sized blob of dried superglue on my leg, and it itches.