Showers are the shit...

As anyone who has ever lived with me would likely attest, I can spend an exorbitant amount of time in the shower. To be fair to me, I’ve gotten much more conservative with my water usage as the adult times have taken hold. There was, however, a time (worst during those high school years if I recall correctly) when I could literally spend an hour or more draining the house of all hot water. Even now, when I’ve seemingly cut that time down to ten minutes or less, I have a tendency to wait until everyone else is asleep and get in another twenty minutes or so without worries of forcing my roommates to endure a frigid deluge. It’s an illness, an obsession, and my personal great love story. A love story as old as time…or at least as old as me. Whoever I end up marrying will have to accept the shower as our third member in matrimony, because I dare not trade away my time in the steamy waters for anyone. And just why is that, you ask?

Feeling Heavy...

Over the weekend, I found myself an entertainer and tour guide of sorts to my visiting Florida friends. It was amazing fun, and I actually surprised myself with how much awesome (and more importantly inexpensive/free) stuff I was able to bring to their mini vacation.

Hot and Cold

I lay here in bed, naked and squeaky clean, having just had one of the niftiest experiences in the world. It took place in my shower.

Stop being gross. I can hear your thoughts, you nasty.