If you wanna poo, poo in this

It occurred to me today that there are tons of people that have never scrubbed and cleaned a bathroom before. I always think of it as just something that you have to do from time to time, but it really isn’t. Not for everyone. And I’m not even talking about rich people. Of course Paris Hilton has never had to clean a toilet. But there are dudes that went from mom to college to girlfriend to wife, and they can be in their forties and have never, ever had to spray scrubbing bubbles in the tub and lean over to try and vigorously scrub away the stains that form underneath their shampoo. This is almost incomprehensible to me. To me it’s just something like laundry, taxes and breathing.

Lucky bastards. I will say that there is something humbling about being crouched down next to your toilet, trying to scrub away God knows what underneath the base of the bowl. The feeling of cleanness and accomplishment afterwards is nice too. But it’s not like I would shed any tears if you said, “Krissy, you will never have to clean a bathroom again”. That would be amazing. Then again…who the hell would clean it??

I know being a chic makes me pretty much the obvious choice in household scrubbing duties. And that’s fine because it’s not the worst thing. I hate to stereotype (but I will anyway); most dudes don’t really clean. Yes they will straighten up. They will organize. They will de-clutter. But their idea of cleaning a bathroom is wiping down the sink, throwing your blow dryer in a drawer you will never think of opening, and squirting some toilet bowl cleaner in the toilet. I would rather do it myself.

Hanging picture frames and fixing broken things are things I absolutely LOATHE doing. But most dudes would rather hang 100 picture frames then get on their hands and knees and clean the bathroom floor. Maybe it’s a fair trade. Hm.

Blah. I have been uninspired lately, which I think is pretty obvious by my lack of blogs. Uninspired or lazy. Or both. I want to change this whole page, but I have to wait until I get my sweet new computer. Is that just another excuse? Maybe.

I had the flu for ten days and I feel like I have sweat out every fluid inside of me. I am so fucking thirsty all the time now! In my normal dramatic fashion, I had pretty much told everyone I was on my deathbed, and started passing out dibs on my stuff to my sisters and friends. Sorry everyone, I’m still alive. No coffeemaker for you, Kathy. Hopefully you value me more than a coffeemaker; if not, maybe you can have hope in the fact that at any moment I could be hit by a bus full of nuns, or spontaneously combust in the check-out line at Target.

In other sad news, I haven’t had a beer in a week. Or wine. Or whiskey. Oh my God. I really might spontaneously combust.