When I take something into my mouth that shouldn't have been in my mouth to begin with, it will usually get stopped, or at least detained, by my own personal border patrol.
Like popcorn. Popcorn is the perfect food for movie goers. It's light, doesn't make annoying sounds when you're fishing around in the bucket and there's a helluva markup for the theater owner. It can be buttered, salted, plain, flavored. It's perfect. For everyone but me.
I will always get the kernel with the hard node of corn still attached that could not be masticated with sulphuric acid. I'll bite into that first piece of popcorn and you'll know I'm in the theater with you because of the sudden, "Oh fuck!" that arises during a scene that doesn't warrant it. That's me, the girl who has just bitten into a substance harder than man-made diamonds...and at least as desirable. I spend the rest of the move punching my husband in the arm, saying, "I think I just broke a fucking tooth!"
But at some point, I will forget about the possibly broken molar and I will reach into that over-priced bucket for another piece of popcorn. That's when it happens. That little brown skin - the thick, sharp edged outer layer, the hull - will break free from the puffed corn and will immediately attach to my uvula, clinging to save itself from my digestive and eliminative systems.
I try to move it with my tongue, making a long face, like Joey Ramone. That never works. It's suctioned itself to my uvula. That's when the sound comes.
It's low and breathy but very audible. Everyone hears it. Everyone knows. She's gotta hull stuck on her uvula.
My eyes will water and my nose will begin to tickle....and then I sneeze, dislodging the hull, flailing it onto my tongue. Now, if I were smart - which I am not _ I would spit it out. But, nooooooooo. Instead, I try to swallow it again. Sometimes I win, sometimes the hull wins.
Headache Powders have a similar effect, but the powder clings out of defiance, not out of fear. I pour it onto my tongue and wait for it to become a paste instead of a powder. When I think it's moist enough, I swallow. And the powder coats my uvula, surrounding it like pissed off children catching their gym teacher out in a dark alley after a brutal day of running laps. "You did this to us and now you're gonna pay!" Pissed off children and headache powders: practically the same things, save a little carbon.
My uvula is my friend. It wants to protect me from harmful substances, taking the brunt of my best efforts to defile my body. That's why, when I'm giving my husband a blow job (and he'll tell you, it's not that often) but when I'm sucking his cock and he gets a little eager (and he'll tell you that it's not that often) and the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, my uvula.....