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Tuesday, May 29, 2007

You Don't Even Wanna Know
by Freelance Midget (guest blogger)

I have a fear of public bathrooms. A deep, (possibly) irrational fear of dirty, dirty public bathrooms. I'm sure, like me, most of you find gas station bathrooms "gross" and "disgusting" - but I have recurring nightmares about being in public bathrooms. Do you? Yeah, I didn't think so. Rusty Kohler plumbing fixtures don't haunt your cotton candy dreams.

Oh, and when I say recurring, I'm talking like once every week. At the least. Just imagine being stuck in some third world bathroom stall, half asleep (or drunk) and accidentally grazing every possible hepatitis-infested, Ebola-harboring surface in there. Crazy dream? Sure. I also had a crazy dream last night (on top of the vile bathroom stall dream) that I was mad at one of my gay male friends, CKB*, because he bought the Miu Miu bag I wanted AND had a Gucci bag the size of a large pig to boot. Me crazy? Probably.

You know what I'll tell you though that IS crazy, but is NOT a dream. My childhood best friend is (casually) dating Mr. Die Hard himself. That's right. Bruce Willis. I'm not making this shit up. Now I'm not saying I wouldn't make out with a 52-year old celebrity, I'm just saying that I wouldn't make out with a 52-year old celebrity. Ok, ok...Maggie, I'm just giving you a hard time :) Hook me up with Orlando Bloom and I promise I will never make jokes about your avuncular passions again. Yeah, that's right. I said avuncular. Look it up.

So what does this mean that I dream about bathrooms so often? It's not like I'm a germaphobe. I'll share toothbrushes, ice cream cones, half-eaten sandwiches. I mean, you might even catch me rescuing something from the floor as long as there isn't woolly mammoth hair stuck to it. Aaaaand, this brings me to random digression #1.

Most people in life would probably rescue a Cheez-it off the floor if it falls within the 5 second rule, right? If you're reading this blog, and I know you, I bet you would - you know who you are. But how many of you would rescue an old Cheeto off the floor when in the back of your mind, you weren't even sure it was a Cheeto? The answer happens to be one; and that answer happens to look like this. This former roommate of mine somehow mistook a used earplug for a runaway Cheeto. Now I know that maybe, MAYBE in Pangloss-world, residual earwax could fake you out for Cheeto dust, but...really? I mean, once I thought that the coolest kid in 8th grade was waving at me across a crowd, and I waved back, and then realized she was waving at the 2nd coolest kid in 8th grade standing behind me, but...really? I'll leave this issue to the readers: Cheeto-like, or not Cheeto-like?

I still haven't solved the mystery of my dirty-el-bano-phobia. I'm going to take a bold step here: in my vast knowledge of psychology, I daresay this is my mother's fault. She, in turn, can blame it on her germ-tastic phobic sisters (you know who you are). I think when I was a small child, the fear of God and dirty toilets was instilled in me. On the one hand, I have the Christian virtues of guilt and cleanliness. On the other, I still can't bring myself to touch anything in a public bathroom without the aid of latex gloves, and 20-something odd years later, the porcelain god runs a junta on my dreams. Digression #2: check out - that's how I learn cool words like junta, and excrescent. Ugh, that even sounds like excrement. Look it up**.

* Note: CKB is an ex-runway model for Gucci.
**Note(s): 50 points this time for those of you who get this reference.


Nonny Nu said...

I have only read the first two sentences and am already nodding my head in agreement.

Nonny Nu said...


I'm so jealous of Maggie! I used to watch Moonlighting RELIGIOUSLY. I also used to try to make my hair look like Madelyn Hayes' hair, but of course it didn't work. I also used to have a detective agency in 5th grade (running during the hours of 10:00-10:30am, and 12:00-12:45pm, M-F, except school holidays) and *drumroll please* it was called "Blue Moon Detective Agency." I only had one case and one client (the principal of my school). Good thing, too, because there was only one employee--ME!

Nonny Nu said...

50 points? Dude, you haven't even told me what I won for the 10 points from last week. Don't know if you know this, but I've been charging my usual 25% per day compounded interest. Don't laugh, I used to charge Gong Gong (my dad) that much interest for lending him money. This was back when I was getting mondo Chinese New Year money (like $250 a year, which was a lot of money for a K through 8 person with no expenses since her mother never let her hang out with her friends so all she had to spend money on was the ice cream truck--sounds like someone you know?). Anyhow, back to the issue--YOU OWE ME 30.52 POINTS AS OF TODAY.

But, look, your fear of public bathrooms is completely rational. Yes, yes, yes, you are going to tell me that my opinion doesn't count because I'm one of your mom's germaphobic sisters, but that doesn't matter, because Auntie Nonny is right about this, as are her five sisters. You wouldn't be alive today if you hadn't been protectively wrapped in the untouchable bubble created by such martial arts skills as "Feet Opening Door," "Towel Blocks Dirty Door Knob," and "Don't Trust Seat Cover or Soap Dispenser." Okay, maybe that last one wasn't a skill, but a WAY OF LIFE.

Freelance Midget said...

don't forget Wah Toh's famous: dispense paper towel before washing hands move. that's some buddha level skills.

el bastardo said...

" I'm just saying that I wouldn't make out with a 52-year old celebrity."

why not? don't tell me it's because of his age. good lord, men generally aren't even taken seriously until they're thirty-something; forty to fifty-five is absolutely prime (ask any russian girl). or, is it that you want you and your boy-man to "learn things together?" "no, grab me harder. that's better, but try to do it spontaneously next time, and quit asking me if you can!" hey, that's cool--whatever floats your rubber duckies. :-)

Nonny Nu said...

You're such a bastard.

Nonny Nu said...

"no, grab me harder. that's better, but try to do it spontaneously next time, and quit asking me if you can!"
Don't you really mean "no, grab me harder. *wongk wongk* that's better, but try to do it spontaneously next time, and quit asking me if you can!"?

Man from U.N.C.L.E. said...

Combining three blog entries (Frelance Midget's Office Look-alikes, Freelance Midget's Celebrity dating friend, and Nonny Nu's recent chaparoned hike)- Hey, to me Mr. Nonny Nu looks like Bruce Willis at least from the rear. Am I wrong?

el bastardo said...

if by *wongk wongk* you mean "suuuuuuueeeeee!" or "hummina! hummina! hummina!" then no.

el bastardo said...

"Hey, to me Mr. Nonny Nu looks like Bruce Willis at least from the rear. Am I wrong?"

very close! it's only bruce willis' rear that i resemble.


Nonny Nu said...

Hey, to me Mr. Nonny Nu looks like Bruce Willis at least from the rear. Am I wrong?
I'll have to see Bruce Willis' rear to answer that one.