You've got something on your face.

Are you the type of person that will tell someone (whether they are a friend or stranger) if they have something stuck in their teeth, or some unknown crumb on their face.

If I am standing in line behind someone and they have a stray hair on their clothes or a fuzzy, I typically cannot resist the urge to pick it off. It's like it calling my name and taunting me, "I'm out of place, what are ya gonna do now?"

Yes, I know I have a problem. Fuzzys don't talk.

And tags that are sticking out on shirts! Oh, don't even get me started on that one. It's this instinctive reflex and I can't help myself.

I look at it as if I were the person. I would want someone to tell me if there was something on my face or if my tag was sticking out.

Well back in high school I should have learned my lesson. I specifically remember it was in February on a Wednesday. How do I know this? Well, it was Ash Wednesday.

Do you see where this is going yet?

Idiot me saw a girl with a black smudge on her forehead. I felt so bad for her that no one had mentioned the grease mark on her face. I thought I was being a nice person by letting her in on the splotch, but apparently it was put there intentionally. You know the whole Lent thing. And the look she gave me was like I was a complete heathen, which I am not, we just don't do that at our church.

Oh the humiliation - complete and utter humiliation.

Lesson learned!

So, if it's Wednesday and you have something on your face, I'm not looking at you.