<3 Thank You For Not Peeing In The Shower <3
This past weekend was Stormageddon aka Snowpocalypse 2013 aka Winter Storm Nemo. Yes, the weather was pretty epic. Everything was closed and pretty much all of Boston was housebound. I was stormed in at Doug’s house– we had a cozy weekend of “Twin Peaks” marathons and frozen pizza awaiting us.
Anyway, on one of the days I drank lots of coffee and water and juice and other things and had to “use the facilities” as my late grandmother would have said. However, Doug was in the shower. So, I waited for signs that his shower may be over (that was why, really. I am not normally in the habit of eavesdropping on peoples’ person hygiene routines). I heard the shower water stop. I stood up, ready to pounce as soon as the door opened… but then I heard the unmistakable sounds of peeing in the potty, followed by the toilet flushing. My first thought was “whoa, who gets out of the shower to drain the lizard?” But then my thoughts were quickly flooded with elation and joy.
When I was a youngster, my mother spent a lot of time razzing me for being uptight. I was square. I was dorky and un-cool. I was totally anal-retentive, which was amazing because I apparently also had a broomstick up my ass. Moth and her creepy boyfriend at the time (we’ll call him Bucephalus) picked on me because I wouldn’t walk around the house naked, for example. Obviously I was a stuffed shirt. Also, I wouldn’t let MOth into the bathroom to brush her teeth while I was on the can. This annoyed her to no end. You’ve probably heard this story already, but here it is again: I’m probably the only kid in the history of the universe who got yelled at for NOT swearing. I said “oh phooey” or words to that effect when I dropped something once. Moth’s creepy boyfriend at the time heard and was horrified. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” he demanded. “uh… phooey?” I said (I was about 10). “NO, WHEN YOU DROP SOMETHING, YOU SAY *FUCK*!!! NOBODY WILL EVER RESPECT YOU IF YOU SAY LITTLE MAMBY PAMBY PUSSY WORDS LIKE PHOOEY! LET ME HEAR YOU SAY FUUUUCCCKKK!!!!” I, of course, was annoyed at this and liked to piss people off, so I went on saying “ffffffffffff…ffff…iddlesticks!” and things. I finally had to say “fuck” just to make him shut up, but I didn’t like it. I was 10, OK? Being uptight was my only way of being rebellious! This is my mother, who took one look at the rock star on the record album cover I was lovingly gazing at (I think it was Green from Scritti Politti) and said “Oh, he’s totally gay. Look at him. He’s so gay. Do you know what gay means? It means he doesn’t like girls. He likes men. He’d rather have sex with men than women. Do you know how they do that? In the anus. One man puts his penis in the other man’s anus.” So ok, it’s one thing that Green would never love me (and who says he wouldn’t? I mean, this was the 80s. He was European. Everyone looked gay in 1985!), but quite another to the 10-year-old mind to picture (1) his penis at all (2) putting it in another man’s anus– this all kind of made my head explode. But truthfully, I didn’t care what he did with his penis. Shocking me was what my mother lived to do, and pretty much all I could do was play my role as the shockee, which wasn’t always just a role. Later on, I would go on to do really uptight dweebish things like drive the speed limit and slow down for yellow lights. Yes, I was doomed, and no amount of forcing me to listen to Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits would make me cool.
I recall one evening at dinner Mom and Bucephalus were bad-naturedly ridiculing someone or other they knew. “He’s the kind of guy who probably gets out of the bathtub to take a piss.” Bucephalus said, and Moth cackled appreciatively. I, however, truly was aghast. It truly wasn’t an act this time. I spent a lot of time in the bathtub since it was the only warm place in the house (we only turned the heat up as high as 65 for special occasions like birthdays), and the thought of stewing in my own excreta was particularly foul to me. I might have gasped. Moth and Bucephalus laughed. “YOU MEAN YOU get out of the bathtub to pee?!?!?” They demanded, laughing as if it was the most hilarious thing on earth. I sputtered. I tried to set up a logical rebuttal, explaining that languishing in urine was not my preferred hobby. As you probably guessed, using logic was not a way to win arguments in my household. For a few weeks after, every time I went into the bathroom, I was followed by comments like “careful not to get any bathwater in there!” or “here’s a jar, just take it with you into the tub; then you won’t have to get out HAHAHAHAHAH!”
So Ok, I’m uptight. But Doug gets out of the SHOWER to answer nature’s call. He removes himself from a place where water is constantly washing down a drain to do his business where it should be done. He’s dweebier than I am! AND IT’S FREAKING AWESOME!!! Not just because I’ve met someone who’s a bigger dork than I am, but I feel like we’re on the same wavelength… at least about the separation of waste elimination and bathing!