It’s official. After a particularly arduous workout I wanted nothing more than to jump into the shower, get the steam going and enjoy the fact that there were 15 inches of snow outside and I hadn’t left the apartment since I slogged my way home through the snow the evening before. I have what I consider, by Carol Standards, a GLORIOUS bathroom. Separate tub and shower, double sinks, granite, tile, HUGE walk-in closet attached. The shower is extraordinary in its own right, boasting boiling hot temperatures, a bunch of room, pretty tiles and a showerhead that puts the ass into massage. I’m not sure what that means, but it’s great.
Because I wanted to savor the sensations of the shower, I decided to leave all the lights in the bathroom off, save the shower light. It was a good decision, as it immediately set a rather spa-like atmosphere, punctuated by the oodles of steam. First five minutes? Fantastic. And then I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
Since the shower was the only rectangle of light in my sizable but not huge by any means bathroom, I was reminded of that scene in Pitch Black, where the guy crawls off and illuminates the world for a second, just long enough to see the legions of monsters surrounding him, (2:14 video below) ready to pounce, devour and rend. I told myself I was being silly. Just a bathroom. Ha ha! Yessss. Just a bathroom. Unfortunately, that primordial fear that human kind carries with them from the times where painting were done on cave walls, fire was coveted and the dark was unknown had already set in. I found myself doing the ‘You’re insane’ pep talk for the rest of the shower, and what began as a soothing relaxer turned into what I can only describe as ‘A bad mistake.’
What this really brought up to me though, is one of my more unreasonable, nonsensical fears of showers. It’s probably gleaned from the copious amount of Asian Horror I’ve greedily consumed over the years, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. I have a similar fear when it comes to washing my face at the sink that I’m positive came from that scene in the original Omen with Gregory Peck and the Satanic Nanny. But I digress. I’m frightened beyond the capacity for rational thought sometimes in the shower, that I’ll wash my face, rinse it off and open my eyes to see a scary child or something’s face right in front of mine.
The scenarios fluctuate, sometimes it’s a child, or some kind of crawly thing pulling the shower curtain to the side from the bottom, staring up at me. Other times it’s someone on the other side of the glass, face pressed against, breath fogging, only the bloodshot eyes visible. I’m told I watch too many horror movies… I just think my creativity is a curse.
Nontheless, I’ve decided that showering with a feeble light in a sea of darkness is not for me, even if it was relaxing before my diseased imagination kicked in.
Call me a fashion premie, call me a coward, call me old-fashioned. Your insults will bounce off of my gently bootcut jeans that complement me perfectly, unlike the skinny jeans that grace the figures of girls world-wide. Big, small, inbetween, the skinny jean is NOT your friend. Thinking it is only serves to allow you to sit at the cool table at lunch while you still remain uncomfortably aware of the stares and whispers of those other kids judging you for giving up your integrity for these glorified stretch pants.
After a lovely rap, drink and noshing session with the multi talented and ever-charming Brit Horvat and Darrell Proctor, I came home with a grim resolution to exercise. I skipped out yesterday since I needed to recover after the stomach flu (or some sort of ‘food borne virus’) knocked me out of commission for a few. With a trudge in my step I grumbled into my workout clothes and got in front of my suitably dorky YourSelf!Fitness game for the original Xbox. (Take that, Wii Fit!) Five minutes in, I no longer regretted the decision. What is it about exercise that makes me so loathe to actually do it, but so happy when I finally do?
In a profound bliss that can only be brought along by the stomach flu one day, severe exhaustion the next, coupled with a severe fear of eating anything, I have stumbled upon another lovely nail to hammer in humanity’s coffin regarding the robot uprising. The charming folks over at 
