August 1, 2014
While in the shower about 15 minutes ago, I began feeling uneasy and anxious and couldn’t quite pin down why. Until I glanced to my left and saw a spider in the shower stall with me. His body was about the size of an M&M candy, and his legs about .5-.75″ long, and he was grayish brown and hairy and horrifying, and he was staring me down. Like he was telling me this shower stall ain’t big enough for the two of us. Ordinarily I would have screamed my fool head off, and the blood-curdling utterance would have brought aid from the next room (or possibly the next county). I don’t know why I didn’t this time. Probably because I had shampoo in my hair, and it was already beginning to drip into my eyes a little. That’s just what my opponent was hoping for: blind me with shampoo, then attack. Not today, my friends. I met his stare with a snarl, and bonked him with my shampoo bottle, and that was that. Though wet and dripping, I streaked to the bathroom and grabbed a tissue, which I used to dispose of the bulk of the forensic evidence. The trace evidence was rinsed down the drain. Moral of the story: I prefer to shower in privacy, thank you very much. Also, I may consider taking up cage fighting.
June 10 2017
Say you’re on your way to the shower. You’re wearing a pair of boxer shorts and tank top, getting your shit sorted, trying to find your body wash, just minding your own business… when suddenly you feel a BUG on you. Like, it’s skittling across your lower back. Above the waistband of your boxers, below the hem of your (admittedly too short) tank top. A bug! You might react by jumping up and down and waving your hands and shrieking “ack a bug is on me a bug is on me A BUG IS ON ME HALP”… and your partner might come running to the bathroom to try to helpfully locate the vermin because they know there will be no peace until the villainous pest is captured…then you realize there is no bug, it’s just your stupid hair tickling the exposed flesh between the hem of your tank top and the waistband of your boxer shorts.
It could happen. Ok, so it happened.
August 20, 2017
Ok, story time.
I keep a small hairbrush in the shower, which I use to gently work conditioner through to the ends of my thick, long hair. It works quite well, except that I tend to be a lazy fuck about cleaning it, so it often has a sizable wad of hair tangled among the bristles.
So I’m in the shower after having just dyed my roots (red). The tile beneath my feet looked like a murder scene. I was making a hell of a mess. Beauty is pain (and a pain in the ass). After the shampoo, the conditioner. I tore the after color treatment open with my teeth (yes, I know I’m not supposed to do that) and began applying it to my hair, beginning at the ends.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t alone in the shower.
There was a fucking mouse in the shower with me.
No, listen: there was a fucking mouse in the shower with me, soaking up my red hair dye, sitting halfway on my foot like he had a right to be there.
There was a FUCKING MOUSE in the shower with me and I nearly had a heart attack and I freaked out and started kicking my foot to rid myself of the foul vermin. I was too stunned to scream, but I think I was squeaking “oh shit oh shit oh fuck fuck fuck fuck” or something equally profound. A FUCKING MOUSE.
My frantic kicking did the trick. The mouse let go of my foot and went “splat” against the shower wall, where it slid down the tile wall into a little pile on the floor, bleeding red. Either blood or dye, I didn’t give a fuck. The nerve of that little fucker, scaring me like that. I half cowered as I knelt to inspect the carcass.
It took me that long to realize what you, gentle reader, probably already know. It wasn’t a fucking mouse. It was a big wad of my hair, finally disentangled from the sparse bristles of my hair brush. An indictment of my lazy habit of letting it accumulate.
I flushed it down the toilet and told myself “lesson learned” but we all know I didn’t learn shit.
I will probably die in a really stupid, embarrassing way.
January 16, 2018
And now, another installment of “I’m a grown up”:
I take long showers. Here’s how it goes. First of all, this time I took my underwear in there because I’m on my period and I wanted to wash them out because I am vain enough to want to keep my $5 underwear from Target nice. After I washed and rinsed them, I hung them on the shower knob. Actually it’s more handle shaped than knob shaped, but it controls the water temperature and it’s handy for hanging your undies or your washcloth.
Then I sang a couple of songs. I sang “Girl from Ipanema” and “Scenes From An Italian Restaurant” while I washed my hair. After shampooing, I worked the conditioner in and let it sit while shaving my legs.
I used a new razor because I’m worth it.
Then I scrubbed with scented body wash.
I’d date me.
After shampooing, shaving, and scrubbing, I rinsed the conditioner out and turned the water off. Then, I flipped my hair forward to gather it and wring it out. Are you with me so far? Ok, then you know that handle shaped shower control I described? Yeah, that’s where my hair got caught as it was being flipped forward.
So I tried to untangle it, but accidentally turned the water on and it was icy cold so I shrieked and quickly turned it again and it nearly scalded me so I said “FUCK” and turned it again, and after a few more accidental extreme temperatures, I managed to get it turned off and finally disentangled my hair from the fixture. It was still dripping wet, but I was done fucking around in the shower so I got out and wrung my sopping mane out over the sink.
That’s when I noticed that my underwear was tangled in my hair. Remember my underwear? My period stained underwear that I took into the shower to rinse out, then hung on the handle? I guess when my hair got caught on the handle, my underwear got gnarled up in the mess.
I finally liberated my underwear from my hair. I wrung the water out of those too. Then I hung them over the bondage rack to dry. They dripped dry before my hair did.
I need to figure out a new “end of shower” program.
Like the Corvair, I am unsafe at any speed.
The Thing From The Matrix
July 15 2018
Ok. So I just got out of the shower, and my skin is still crawling.
I had just applied conditioner to my hair when I noticed what looked like a little tangled pile on the tile floor. Figuring it was just a few snarled strands of my own hair, I dismissed it and began shaving my legs. I was singing Limelight, enjoying myself and minding my own business.
THAT’S WHEN IT CRAWLED ACROSS MY FOOT.
THE LITTLE TANGLED PILE CRAWLED RIGHT ACROSS MY FOOT. IT HAD ABOUT TEN MILLION LEGS (seriously, I felt the patter of each individual scampering foot).
I howled in terror, sprang from the shower, still dripping, and began screaming for J. They came quickly, asked me what was wrong. I told them about the many legged nightmare monster. I told them it looked like some shit straight out of the Matrix or something. I described the approximate location where I had last seen it. They went in and found the villain, pronounced it “centipede”, and vanquished it in true heroic style…then told me it was just a bug. I was like “nuh uh, that mother fucker came from hell”. They inspected the shower to make sure it was safe for me to go back in there, then reiterated that it was “just a bug” on their way out of the bathroom. I didn’t care. Thankfully J was good enough to wait outside the bathroom until I finished …just in case.
If the shower were not newly equipped with a non-slip mat, this would have been the end and you would be hearing about it at my eulogy. I will likely meet my end in a humiliating and improbable way.