OPB’s

July 16, 2005 at 9:00 pm (Rant Goodness, The Enlightening Ones)

I've always had a pet peeve about bathrooms that belong to other people.

Granted, they're usually cleaner than mine (since it really pisses me off to be the only one cleaning a bathroom others use–I generally clean, bitch for a week, see someone else clean, then repeat). I have to admit that it's always interesting to see what others have done with their bathrooms, how they've decorated, arranged, and set up in general. To tell the truth, Other People's Bathrooms (OPB) aren't so awful, unless you have to take a shower in them. Once one has to shower in them, however, they're always a pain in the ass.

I can start out in any bathroom, after being told exactly where everything is, have all my essentials (or do I?) with me, and even when I've been handed washcloths and towels, I'll still wind up doing something totally retarded because I've never had to find my way around it nekkid, soapy, and in dire need of something I fergot.

Case in point: One of the times I stayed at Beowol|='s house I was preparing for a flight out of MSP to somewhere in Michigan. I naturally wanted to look my best since I was going to meet Honey for one of our 10-hours-one-way dates. Step one in preparing for said date was, certainly, a shower. Beo, wonderful guy that he is, let me use that gorgeous shower in his bathroom–excellently nice, plenty of room, and I didn't bump my fat ass up against the sides while trying to reach my back.

You'd think I'd be in Heaven in this place, and I would have except for my tendency to totally fuck up even the best of wet dreams.

I'd of course forgotten my shampoo and conditioner, and of course didn't catch on to that until I'd already peeled off my clothes and didn't want to have to dress again. Of course I just yelled to him in the bedroom instead.

"Where's yer shampoo? I'm a moron and forgot mine."

"It's in that dispenser thingy on the shower wall."

Ooh! Sweet! Even I can't fuck that up. I hopped in the shower and went to work, making sure everything was sweet and fresh until I came to the point where I had to wash my hair. For the first time, I looked over the dispenser thingy. VERY handy-dandy little dealybopper! Everything was in there, even conditioner! So I washed my hair, conditioned, then rinsed off, dried off and dressed before emerging from the room in a cloud of rainforest-scented steam.

"Wow, I like that conditioner you have–it's not heavy and my hair doesn't feel waxy and loaded down! I only had to use half what I usually use too. What kind is it?"

"Uh, I don't condition my hair–I don't need it."

Ah, shit.

"What's in the conditioner space then?"

Turns out it was his very expensive man-face cleanser. I had thoroughly worked a creamy face wash into my (at the time) mid-back length locks. I once again suck at using OPB's.

See what I mean? I completely, severely suck at showering in OPB's.

I'm just as bad at getting used to new bathrooms when I move–shit, I'm lost for a week there, and I'm the one who sets those up! I confess–I'm a sad, sorry excuse for a human.

But I'm a clean sad sorry excuse, no matter how long it takes or what I wind up putting on me to get that way.

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