Bathroom thoughts

In the bathroom, you realize things.

You’re trying desperately not to concentrate on the task at hand, unless you’re having a great deal of difficulty. Because the task at hand, for most intents and purposes, is fairly boring. Just cleaning out the system.

So you sit around thinking. Pondering. If you’re at work or in a store, you listen to the music.

The music at my new internship is weird. It sounds like a rotation of 2 CDs, which seem to be titled something like The Very Worst of the Jackson Five and Bad Shawn Mullins Immitators Sing Hideous Lyrics.

Since I’m an audio specialist, bad background music drives me absolutely batshit. I asked the guys I work with how they could stand the music, but apparently they have TV theme songs in the men’s room, which even if annoying, are at the very least short.

The other thing you do, if the office bathroom has much harsher lighting than your home bathroom, is stare at the formerly unknown mountainous blemishes on your face when you make it out of the stall.

Because the light in your home bathroom is far more flattering, when you look in the mirror you see a reasonably attractive human being. When you look in the mirror at work under extremely strong fluorescent lights, you see a walking pizza.

The thing I noticed today was that there are six blemishes on my face that form odd patterns. There’s three sets of two, each set with its pair the same distance apart. There’s one on my nose, one under my right eye, and one on the bottom of the right side of my face.

The sets are spaced in a manner that makes it look like I’ve been bitten three times by a vampire. Or perhaps by three different vampires.

I’ve had these blemishes for some time, but I only noticed the spacing today when I was trying to rid myself of the ones on my nose and just happened to look at the right angle, and went, “Oh shit.”

Maybe I should call my landlord and have my apartment sprayed for vampire bats. You know, just in case.

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