Saturday, January 14, 2012

Showers, Baths, and Referring to Poop Too Many Times

Showers and I have a strictly business relationship. 

I get in, I do my business, I get out.  While some have a more loving relationship with both the shower and the toilet, I treat both with some amount of disdain. 

"You, Mr. Shower, are here to get me clean.  The end.  No funny business."

"You, Ms. Toilette, are here to catch whatever happens to come out of me.  Good luck."  *shakes toilet-hand*

EDIT: A friend/apartment mate of mine, Dustin (at took this picture:
He had asked me to give the toilet eyes and arms.  Without question, I said "HELL YES" and did it.  So, now I can actually shake it's toilet hand.  Our apartment mate says it makes him feel like he is now one step closer to golden showers, having now peed in something that has eyes.   There are actually some pictures of me directly up on his site too...  Just sayin'.

In general, I'm just very uncomfortable while taking a shower.  I like feeling clean, but it's the standing up to do it that bothers me. 

Maybe it's my heritage and I have a strange association between showers and Nazis? 
More likely though, I've just watched Psycho too many times.

Fun fact, until a surgery leading to where she had to take showers instead, the star of Psycho took baths, often with someone in the room, due to the film. 

I love baths.  I could easily say to my apartment mates "Hey, I'm going to be in the bathroom for at least ever, so I need you guys to use it while you can." 
These are the guys who have had no issues peeing outside when the bathroom was taken, so they would be all, "Sure!" "No problem." *salutes* "Have fun in your bath, Princess!" 

But I don't ask.  Living with three to four people in an apartment with one bathroom makes me needlessly nervous and ultra aware of my bathroom time. 

Even having to take a crap becomes a stressful endeavor, once I feel I'm taking too long. 
I start thinking progressively more irrational things like, "Oh god.  Oh god.  What if someone needs this?  What if someone is really sick?  What if a cute little girl just came to visit and she needs to poo and I'm in here and so she has to go outside like an animal??"

I'm even the kind of person who turns the fan on, in hopes no one will hear me do what is meant to be done in the room with the toilet. 

Like I'm pretending to be some magical creature that excretes gummy bears instead.

Again, I know my roommates would be more than happy to ignore me while I crap.  This has nothing to do with reality or how people actually work.  This has to do with my screwed up brain. 

But baths... Man.  Baths are awesome. 

When I was a kid, I would make a fuss about getting into the bath, and then once there... I was sooooo freaking happy! 
And then I'd make a fuss about getting out.

I'm still like that, to a certain extent.  
And then I get in and it's, "Oh.  Right.  I like this.  This is awesome.  I forgot."

My mom would put this metal...plastic... who knows what it was made of...  It was white and it was a grid type thing that went across the bath tub.  Then, I had a series of cups and toys and even Little Mermaid figures.

Sometimes, Ursula would sing songs.  Sometimes, I was a mad scientist. 

I was awesome.

As a grown up who's too weird to ask to take a bath, I either take baths when no one is home, like some secret guilty pleasure, or I take showers begrudgingly. 

It helps to shower with someone, but even then, it's strictly business for me.  I have to be convinced to do otherwise. 
My boyfriend is there to wash my back if I ask for that.  ...He puts up with a lot from me, actually.  The whole typically-endlessly-patient thing is rather nice.

He doesn't wear glasses in the shower.  Just so we're clear. 

I will admit, there is a kind of comfort to showering with my boyfriend.  I figure, with him there, I won't get stabbed.  If I slip, he'll catch me.  Things like that. 
And washing my back if I ask.

He and I both have an issue with one sensitive eye.  ...Meaning that we each have one sensitive eye... Not that we share one.

His reacts to light.  Mine, as sucky as it is, reacts really poorly to water and sometimes to wind. 
...I wish I was kidding. 
It's from an old dog-stepping-in-my-eye-while-I-was-on-the-ground-after-falling-down-a-flight-of-stairs related injury. 

Therefore, washing my face is done very carefully, and often outside of the shower. 

The only other issue is that Boyfriend likes his showers boiling hot.

Oh well.

Also, I drew this a while ago.  It always bothered me that Flounder was not... a flounder... so I fixed it.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

As It Turns Out, I'm Actually Not Terribly Friendly

To start, the "art" for this one was "scanned" using my phone.  I'm still visiting my homeland, so I've made do, in order to bring my thousands of fans (read: about six) this blog.

So, here goes.

I've been noticing more and more that I am a pretty angry/bitter woman.  This comes up mostly when interacting with total strangers, unless it's in a more planned setting.  If I'm at work, for example, this is not a problem.

If I'm in a hallway at school, it's not really an issue.

If I'm at someone else's job, and I'm the costumer, I am pleasant as can be.

...If I am in an airport, or a mall, or in a theater... whatever, and someone treats me in a way that I deem unfair... I am a monstrous beast of a person.

We'll stick to the airport, as this is a prime example of how I am a crazy, anti social loon.

I get upset if no one helps me when I'm struggling, even if I don't ask...

AND if someone tries to help without my asking.

I assume they either wouldn't help someone who was on fire, or they must think that I'm completely useless as a human being... depending on the situation.  No one can win.

Likewise, well meaning people who are jovial and joke can expect to be met with a harsh version of my usual pleasant (enough) self.  A simple "good job" from a stranger, no matter how obviously sincere, leaves me thinking they are being condescending.

...In all fairness, this was spawned from years of people assuming I was a lot younger than I really am.  If something would be an appropriate thing to say to a small child, it is generally a pretty rude thing to say to an adult.

On top of this, when an older man ignores me, or just does not immediately speak to me, I assume he has something against women.  The worst part about this is that I'm often right.

Nice men don't realize how often this still happens, in this day and age.

Either way, mostly, I keep my mouth shut, aside from some after the fact "I should have said", or internet ranting.

The only time this differs is in a movie theater.

Disturb my viewing experience and you'll get a disturbing experience of your own.  I've slammed back against stepped on and rocked seats.  I've loudly proclaimed the maiming that would occur if a certain person didn't shut up... Any anger management issues tend to show themselves during movies, and it's never at the film itself.

I've made grown men (read: teenagers) tremble from the awesome power of my getting pissed off during a film.  Other than that though, I let things slide.

In fact, I tend to let things slide a bit too often when I shouldn't.  I bottle in bizarre ways.  That though, will be a topic of another blog.