Handicapped Bathrooms and some other random stuff

The Handicapped Bathroom was a very important place back when I was in a cubicle pretending to work.


My feelings on it below:


O, handicapped bathroom, how I do love thee.  Spacious, private oasis in the cubicle desert. Sanctuary.


Picture this:

Enter.   Stretch your legs, rest your eyes, take a deep, cleansing breath, and don't forget your book. There isn't even a handicapped person on this floor. It's your's for as long as you can keep it. Fully equipped with a safety bar on which you can hang your newspaper or behind which you can store your book as you prepare for a break that doesn't count.  Wedge a roll of tp on top of it and take a nap.  The Handicapped Bathroom never judges.

And, lo and behold, your own personal sink, tilted and extra wide for easy washing.  Do your eyes play tricks or is that large, angled mirror especially flattering?  Stop. Check yourself out and make sure. You have the time. And the space. And the privacy. Bathe your self with paper towels and lotion soap. Clean stains, check for blemishes. Work out.  Stare at your hairy belly. No one can see and no one will bother you.

Handicapped bathroom, you are my Secret Garden. My path to Narnia. My Dutch attic where I hide from the management Nazis. I love you, handicapped bathroom, and I know I always will.


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An exchange I heard between a mother and son at playgroup :

"Ok, now spell Above."

"A-B--VE."

"What?"

"V-E."

"You forgot a letter."

" . . . . M." 


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For those that have never seen the cartoon Max and Ruby:


It's a show about an older sister, probably around 7 or 8 and her toddler brother.  The older sister is unrelentingly bossy toward her baby brother, most likely due to the fact that she has been left to raise him almost completely on her own as the only adult presence on the show is the grandmother.  She shows up about once every two weeks and takes no notice of the weird police state under which the baby brother is living, or the fact that there are no parents around.  It also has an intensely annoying and repetitive theme song.  Click to hear.   The lyrics basically go:


Max and Rubeee


Ruby and Max!


Max and Rubeee


Ruby and etc.


Now I, thinking I'm clever and wanting to impress my wife, started singing:


Max in Juveee


Ruby smokes crack!




That second line is the one that started coming out of my daughter's mouth this evening.


When I tried to correct her by singing the original line, she insisted that, "No. No!  Ruby smokes crack."


Why am I such an asshole?  




Chagrined again ,


Homemaker Man