Ayuh, they do come in handy for the most part; but I gotta admit I'd really prefer to live with a fellow member of The Holey Order of the Septum. In other words, a nose. Gender? It's like we are neither, yet both. Whoever is better at this or that, does it. No questions asked. With us, a lot of people could consider our relationship totally backward. In some ways it is, in others; no.

I was married to a sausage casing (Stepford nose.) once. I did compete, all the time. I always lost, but I ended up leaving chicks in the dust in so many ways for it. And, boy did that fact come in handy too many times to count. I was also as reckless as HELL, and it took a nose to calm me down and quit doing things like running under utility trucks pulling out of petrol stations, or throwing myself over road dividers that are taller than me, or walking across an overpass on the railing (Got caught by a cop over that one, and I only had 20 or so yards to go. I was PISSED! No ticket, though.), or pedal to the metal going to work every day. You get my drift. (The list is waaaaaay longer. And
a lot of my stunts weren't exactly legal. Glad I only got caught once, with that overpass railing. The funniest one was when I had a kid photograph me on a phone pole. I got down just in time to have a cop drive by. I about fell to the floor laughing.) I'm surprised I survived myself.

I don't think it's pragmatic to be a chick. The damn things just ain't cost effective. Then again, neither are a lot 'o sausage casings, so hey! YES, I AM A NOSE-ICIST!