RickyRoo

What are some things that were created/invented with the worst intentions, that are now used for good?

Tumblr has me perplexed. Why is it that I can comment on some blogs but not others? Some blogs do not even display properly from computer to computer. It’s the strangest thing.

It makes me want to stop Tumblr-ing all together. I don’t blog enough for anyone to ever notice (nor are my post’s ever entertaining), but it’s fun to vent once and a while.

Oh well.

I’m blog illiterate, clearly. Not ashamed to admit that.

My biggest fear when staying over someone’s house is the dreaded “cleanliness” factor. For most people, myself included, it’s always an inconvenience to have guests stay over. I am extremely picky about who I let into my house let alone stay over. If I am going to go through the trouble of having you as a guest, you can be sure that I consider you family and you may treat the home as if it were your own.

Whenever I stay at someone else’s house, I try to walk softer than normal, use fewer glasses and dishes, sleep on top of the covers in case of the ill chance that I might experience that recurring nightmare where I’m being chased by rabid toddlers armed with plastic forks. That always makes me wet the bed. Anyway, I’m just afraid of messing up their shit, mostly.

B and I were invited to stay at two very dear friends of ours over the weekend. They are probably the coolest people on the planet. Their house is immaculate, yet not in the sterile way that some people keep their home. I hop into the shower and begin my normal beauty regimen. As I lift the shampoo bottle from the shelf I see it. It’s staring at me like a deer in the headlights. The giant gorilla in the room just exposed itself. The abnormally long, single, black pube. Right now you’re probably gasping and saying ewww under your breath. That’s ok. Most would. I however am more worried about another matter… will they think it’s mine?

Let me state again for the record that these people are clean. Things like this just happen. Body hair has a mind of its own usually and can be troublesome. I am worried that if I can’t figure out a way to get that errant follicle down the drain, they may very well think that it came from me; this I cannot allow. While the hair does not gross me out, the thought of moving it with anything other than a steel rod, does.

Quandry!

After a few short minutes of clever handling of the shower head, I managed to push the Brillo pad escapee close enough to the drain, sending it out to sea. Crisis: averted.

Now if I can just figure out a good enough excuse for the crusty pillow case, we’ll be invited back for Christmas.