All The Little Things

I'm sure it goes without saying that we all have those little moments. Ya know, the kind that make you feel about "this big". For me, they come with such a frequency, it is enough to make my head spin. At this point in my life, you'd think I'd have rid myself of any shame or humility, but still it rears its ugly head every chance it gets. It only serves as a reminder that, no matter how close I think I am to perfection, I still trip over cracks in the sidewalk, just like any other guy.

Shampoo: Drops of Misery

I don't what it is about taking a shower, but for some reason, I feel as though I am putting on a show. Now, no one sees me in there. No one is watching. Except for ghosts and God. But I'm sure God has bigger plans on his schedule than watching me take a shower. As for ghosts... freaky little pervs, aren't they? Be that as it may, I have no real reason for a performance and yet, in the shower, there I am being all sexy-like for no damn reason. There is no logic to it. Yet, I will soap and lather my body, as if Brad Pitt were there with a peephole.

Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, ladies. I know I can't be the only one that lifts my arms above my head and stretches there in the shower, because to do such a thing is an instant breast lift. I don't care how perfect you think your boobs are. Lift your arms above your head and suddenly, your boobs are even more perfect. It's great.

So there I was, during one of my daily "performances". I had a notion to shampoo this head of mine. I realize I am not normal. I realize that I have tons of hair, more than the average female. I even wish my hair weren't so thick, but it is. So I must use more shampoo than the average person. It is said that one must use a quarter-sized amount of shampoo to wash their hair. Since I have more, I figure a half-dollar should do. So I squeeze a half-dollar onto my hand. And then I sexily move my arm above my head to lather my hair. It's even more sexy if you tilt your head back at the same time. So I do so.

And that's when it happens. The half-dollar sized glop of shampoo drops off my hand straight into my eye. It might not have been so bad, if it were a smaller amount, but we're talking a huge glop, here. My performance is instantly ruined, as I blink rapidly, flailing about not sure what to do with my arms (because as we all know, do not RUB your eyes if this happens). Completely stunned, I turn around and put my face directly into the water. It burns. It burns more than the fires of hell. In fact, this is what hell is. The devil is down there dropping shampoo into bad people's eyes. Seriously, this shit burns.

Eventually, I did get around to washing my hair. After my shower, I spent the next forty-five minutes applying eye drops to my eyes. I spent the rest of my day looking as if I had pink eye. Luckily for me, Brad Pitt was absent that day.

The Intricacies of Public Restrooms

We all know our shit stinks, but when we're at home, it's different. After a good bathroom break, we can walk out, feeling proud, thinking, "Yeah, smell me! Smell my loveliness! Smother in my fragrance!" Or maybe, that's just me. In public, it's very different. I loathe public restrooms, because I know that my shit smells like... well, shit. So I refuse to do number two in them. I refuse to subject anyone else to my stuff. I only wish that other people had the same curtesy. Now don't get me wrong, when you gotta go, you gotta go. But let us all try harder to make sure we don't need to do number two in a public restroom, please? If I walk in after you, I will try to be polite, but there really is no polite gagging sound and I can only hold my breath for so long.

But really, I must ask that we all try to be more cleanly in public restrooms. Now I can't speak for the men, as I have never been in a men's restroom (that I will admit to). Ladies, we are pigs. I mean, it's not even amusing. We are nasty, nasty creatures. How the hell does that toilet paper get all over the floor, anyway? Did some chick have one nasty battle with the dispenser? I don't get it. I don't get how we can walk into a restroom looking spectacularly beautiful (as all women are), walk out looking spectacularly beautiful, but somewhere in the middle there, we turn into monsters. We get soap and make-up all over the counters and leave it. Some of us never learned to flush. Others can't aim. Yeah, you men thought only you had that problem. And others think that a public restroom is a great place to pull the feathers off chickens. Who knew?

I can't really explain how it happened, as I wasn't there for the "battle". I think it was a battle. I don't really know. But from the carnage left behind, it had to have been a monumental battle. We stopped at a gas station once. Kade and I popped out to use the unisex bathroom. Kade went in, only to come straight back out, announcing that he couldn't use it. I looked in. Chicken feathers everywhere. How does THAT happen? I don't mean a few feathers that might have fallen off a boa or a feathered coat. I mean, there were feathers covering everything. The toilet, the sink, the floor... the worst part was that they were gooey wet feathers. Nasty. And so I must ask that we all be more respectful to the other people that may walk in behind us. If you have shit that stinks like shit, do a curtesy flush beforehand. If you get soap, make-up or toilet paper all over, clean it up. If you go to the bathroom with a chicken, wait till you get home to pluck it. I don't think I'm asking all that much. I really don't.

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut

I woke up with a serious headache, today. We're talking the split-your-head-open-with-an-axe type of headache. My first response to such a thing is to ignore it, hoping that it will give up and go away. But no, this one is persistent. Then I think that it must be a sugar thing. If I eat something, perhaps it will end this epic cranium assault. But noooo, that would be too easy. I have a real problem with taking medicine. I don't like to do it. I will go out of my way not to do it. It's not the taste that bothers me. It's the fact that I can't beat whatever is ailing me on my own.

"Take some aspirin," Chris tells me.

No! If I take aspirin, then the headache has won! I must beat this on my own. I try to lay with my feet propped up, but this really only works on stomachaches. I try deep-breathing. Nothing. Finally, I give up and pop a few aspirin. This headache may have won the first battle, but the war rages on. Next time, I will try temple massages...