I am, right now, at this very moment, engaged in that occasional ritual which we at Hangover Headquarters like to refer to as "Cleaning The Bathroom." Yes. Cleaning the bathroom, always an enjoyable treat, particularly this bathroom, where the "baseboards" are actually apparently made of thousands of layers of highly toxic lead paint which constantly chip and flake and drift lazily around, plgaslk;djrfurosmrod. . me think so. Me think hard now. Look, shiny!I'm tougher than lead paint, though: hell, I used to live in East Baltimore, where you die young and alone if you can't adapt to a constant high lead level. So I ignore it and mop it up and, you know, eat something with my unwashed hands later. However, forget the lead paint. The chips of lead paint are incidental to my story, which is this: Someone has been kissing the mirror!
Yes. There were grotty lip smudges all over the bathroom mirror. Now, who could be doing that? I assure you it's not me - my days of mirror kissing are long past. I'm more likely to burn a cross into the mirror than kiss it; some mornings it seems the only sane reaction to the horrible crone in the medicine cabinet. So it's either my son or my daughter who love themselves so, and I'm not sure which is more disturbing. The only question is when to bring it up? I think it would be keen to say brightly (preferably at a formal dinner with a lot of relatives around,) "Hey! Which of you two minions has been kissing the bathroom mirror?" That should go over well - because, GOD, MOM, it wasn't ME! I know it wasn't, darlings. I know that as you are earnestly explaining, the same stranger who snuck into the house, went into the bathroom and broke the trash can (and I loved that trash can. It was shiny, and the lid went up when you pushed the pedal, and now it is no more, because no one in this house has any mechanical ingenuity at all) apparently kissed the mirror while he was in there. Fiend! Heedless bathroom vandalizer! Is there no end to this madness? Oh well. These internet stalkers, what can you do?
No, the picture has nothing to do with the post. Blame it on the lead paint. It's a picture of my friend D's cat and a red ball, and it's up here because it's not getting enough love on Flickr. I think it's a work of goddamn photographic GENIUS, so appreciate it. Appreciate it hard, because it is ART. Yes, yes it is.
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3 comments:
Uh...as someone who was once an adolescent boy (as opposed to my current state of adult boy) I would guess that your culprit is the boy. In his defence I would say that hey, ya gotta practice, nothing strange about it (though to an outside observer it surely may seem that way) so that when you do kiss a girl you dont seem like an amatuer. At least thats how I was...but I may be totally wrong here. maybe its the cat, who after a little lead paint snack had hisself a groovy time (?)
Oh, I know who did this since we were just in Asheville last weekend. The Kissing Fairies must have escaped my grip to visit your house. They are usually wherever I am. As soon as I wash a door window or the television screen, I have three levels of kiss residue left behind. Lip gloss leaves the best marks, which are nearly impossible to clean.
Good lord, y'all, I'm not sure which option is more alarming! ;-) Although I'm charmed with the knowledge that teenage boys practice kissing, OMG, that is SO CUTE!
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