Three Seashells and Winning

I saw this when I was at YHS today.

In their defense, there is a Head Start class or two that uses that bathroom. So. Probably it’s for them.

It still made me feel really sad and uncomfortable and judged and evaluated as I peed.

So.

I shared it on Facebook earlier today and I got lots of good comments. Mr. Finch picked up on the three sheets of toilet paper thing which, I mean, is clearly some sort of sick joke. Because everyone knows you need half a roll per squat to achieve optimal hygiene.

Anyhow, Mr. Menard, whose face I made pretty back in January at Men In Makeup, is also my eighties and nineties action movie aficionado and commented the most perfect response. Behold:

Oh my God.

Demolition Man, you guys! What? You don’t know about the three seashells? Unacceptable. This shall not stand.

We wipe our asses with seashells and eat every meal at Taco Bell in a mere 14 years, you guys.

This is going to be awesome.

Also, I got a call from Lisa To today. She’s the executive director of Hospice of Warren County. I did a series of articles on the agency last year which actually ended in me taking the volunteer training myself. Only because I wanna be cool like Ellen.

I love it. I love everything about HOWC. Especially the residence. It’s beautiful. It’s just such a great place with such good energy.

At the risk of sounding like a goddamn hippie.

Gross.

Anyhow, Lisa called today and told me she’d nominated me for a journalism award from the Hospice and Palliative Care Network. And I won.

How crazy is that? She wanted to let me know when the awards event was and see if I could make it.

It’s in Harrisburg, which is a hike for a one day trip, but I’ve been contemplating a trip back to Centralia for photos. I’m hoping for some snowy graffiti highway shots. But I’m also excited just to visit again, regardless if the snow content of the graffiti highway. That’s another place that just gets me all jacked up on an energy level.

God.

My hippie therapist is rubbing off on me.

Bastards.

I’m ashamed of myself.

Anyhow, that’s on the 9th of April. So I’m going to go. Even though my social anxiety is screaming bloody murder since I told her I could make it.

God.

I’m such an idiot.

I need a Unabomber shack in the woods, not a room full of people looking at me like I have three heads.

Actually, if I’m honest, I wanted to go to Harrisburg for it because Lisa threatened to stage a presentation in Warren if I couldn’t come to Harrisburg and if people are going to look at me like I have three heads I’d rather they be mostly strangers.

Oh Lord. Get me to a Taco Bell in the future with Sandra Bullock as a robot woman. I feel like I’d get along really well with that character.

Anyhow.

That’s it for today.

Oh. Wait. Except this. This happened tonight after dinner. It was good.

Peace out, girl scouts.

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