"I get it now, Death Therapy!" - Bill Murray What about Bob?


I know well that I am without a doubt the funniest guy in the world at this moment and time. I have learned to accept that and deal with it. (I suggest that you do the same.) But I still find it fun to see what others are saying and doing. I find gems of humor on a daily basis (mainly for sanity purposes). Today, one gem that stands out is from Stephelepsy. Her favorite body spray is Warm Vanilla Sugar. Girl things are weird. To me, it just sounds like something that would attract even more ants and other parasites into my already infested dorm room. While searching for it in the cubby below she finds bacon bits instead (ps steph, “bacon bits” is 2 words, not one (-: ). So if the bacon bits are under the sink, what took the void in the fridge? Ya, your sister is seeing spots right now after drinking Warm Vanilla Coke in a new spray dispenser. And now you know why dogs have been following you around, all of the bacon bits you have been applying to yourself in the morning. But, hey, guys like the smell, too.
Further, I was entertained by the story of the toilets. I feel like I was there. Why is it when girls encounter a leaking toilet, a bug, or anything that must be attended to right then to fix, they run to someone else to fix it instead. If it’s a speck of dirt on the floor, well then, they just tackle that right then and there, no waiting for something of that caliber. The child’s room is on fire? Better run to Mr. Husband to put it out…
That rant aside, let me get to where I was going. Steph admits there that she is afraid of toilets! Ya, I’m thinking the same thing you are… She says that WENDY-HOE understands. If wendy is also afraid of toilets, I can understand that, she lived in the dorms here at BYU-Hawaii for 4 months. That’s plenty enough of time to be scared for life, literally in some cases.
Want to know what one of the things I looked forward to the most about going home for the summer? It wasn’t my car, getting away from Fei, getting a job and money again, family, none of that shallow, supercilious stuff. It was the freedom to walk into my bathroom bare foot, sit on the toilet without a jerry rigged “butt-gasket” and walking out of the shower to my towel, naked.
See, here in the Hale (ha-lay, Hawaiian for dilapidated piece of…er… house) people don’t all have the same view of hygiene. Arabs like to throw the used toilet paper in the trash, since the plumbing is not so great where they come from. That makes for some great room air freshener. The Samoans and Tongans take the other extreme and flush 6-8 times. This may be graphic, but you have the same functions, so grow up. They let one log drop, and flush. Wait five minuets, and let one go again. Followed by another flush. Repeat as desired. This process makes the whole ordeal take 15-20 minuets; and that’s without reading material. I don't know how they do it. I've read too many articles about people on planes having spleens yanked out thru body cavities that way. And the rush of air to the exposed crotch due to the air dispalcement, ya, thats and odd sensation. The logic behind this is that when you really have to go and the Polynesian is in the only stall, you get all excited and your bowels shift into place at the sound of the flush. It’s kina like Pavlov’s Anus. The Polynesian smirks, and continues.
After seeing the grizzly appearance of some of the other residents, you would not care to press your naked cheeks up against theirs, and so I don’t. I have to line the seat with our toilet paper. Only, the toilet paper here isn’t toilet paper. It’s napkins. Ya, napkins. The very same you use to wipe your face with in the much applauded Caf. And you wonder why I don’t care for the food, now you have an idea of what else it reminds me of.
We do not have those cool paper life vest shaped deals. Besides, I usually rip the thing open trying to get the centerpiece off. If I don’t, then the hanging part of the center piece will get wet and by the time I close and lock the stall, the bugger fell in the toilet. So, I use napkins. It takes forever and the humidity here makes them stick to your legs when you stand up. It takes a long time to successfully take a dump here.
Then you walk to the shower. The girl’s Hale is worse with hair as long as the tape worms on the floor of the shower. But I have come to learn from sad experience that many fun germs and things live on the floor of showers here. I don’t just mean the many cockroaches that go to the great watering hole to die. One foot wart was all of a warning I need to tell me never, NEVER, stand barefoot anywhere near a public bathroom.
So I act almost like Bill Murray in “What about Bob?” when I got to the lavatory. Baby steps on the slippers to the toilet. Samoan only on his third flush, come back in ten min. Bush teeth. Ants feasting on the remnants of tooth paste from last brush. Wash hands only to find no soap, but bacon bits in dispenser instead. Dry hands with napkins and go to throw them in the trash where I find that within the last 20 minuets Apu Nahasmepadepmelon went number two. If you need me I’ll be in the shower, struggling on my back, kicking my legs with the cockroach next to me...


P.S. On a lighter note, whether it was from having the rats eat it off or from deuling germs, the foot wart is now gone...