In our household, you can tell who’s important and who isn’t by which bathtubs we’re assigned to. One tub is for my wife and Ava, leaving the other for me to share with the dog. Last month, after realizing my tub was left abandoned, covered in canine hair and oatmeal conditioner, I was forced to use hers to scrub up before dinner. As I stripped down and hopped in for a nice relaxing steam, I opened my eyes to find this:
It was as if someone had pantsed me and pushed out onto stage at Carnegie Hall in front of a sold-out crowd. Everyone was there. Elmo, Cookie Monster, Ernie (Bert obviously had better things to do), Hello Kitty, The Rub-a-Dub Dirty Dogs and a family of rubber duckies. Simple logic told me that these were inanimate objects and I shouldn’t be concerned about their fixed stares. However, after a few minutes, their beady peepers started to create the illusion of the moving eyes portrait painting from that one Scooby-Doo episode. Was I paranoid or was every damn toy in the shower checking out the family jewels?
After dropping the soap and dealing with the mental anguish of how I would pick it up, the situation finally ate away at my core. I was forced to spin around, deflate my posture and face the spigot like I was showering in prison for the first time, only giving the peanut gallery the satisfaction of seeing my pasty white glutes.
I wonder if this is what inspired Tupac to release ‘All Eyez on Me’ back in 96′?
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