What Are You Trying To Hide?

Taste. I don't understand how people acquire taste, good or bad. Sometimes you can come from a really tasteful family, and have shitty taste. Or, you come from a tacky family, and have impeccable taste. Nurture, nature...how the f does it work? I have no idea. I credit my excellent taste to my mother--and when she's not around and I have to pick stuff myself, sometimes I bite it and get a shitty thing without her guidance. Anyway, this story isn't about me. Ok, I lied, it is about me, and my bewilderment over someone's crap taste.

When I first moved to the city, I crashed with my dear friend Sharon. After awhile, I found an apartment in the same building, and a roommate from a friend of a friend of a friend back in Boston. Getting a roommate that way is sort of like the telephone game. Don't do it. The friend ends up being nothing like the friend who recommended the friend of the friend. At any rate, the girl had cash for the apartment, and that's what mattered, but she looked at the whole arrangement like we were two gals sharing our first dorm room. Moving in day was irritating. Her mother rolled a chip n' dip holder the size of a wagon wheel into the living room and that's when I needed some air.

Roomie brought the shower curtain. It was tan. With country blue and brown rocking horses. I about died. Her towels? Brown.

BROWN.

BROWN?

Who the hell has brown towels unless they want to hide something? I don't care what matches what, unless you're at the beach, towels are only one color, and that is WHITE. Towels need to be white so you can tell when they're not clean anymore for cryin' out loud. I never touched those brown towels of hers. I do believe she brought the toilet cozy thing for the tank top, the seat, and the base as well. I call those things pube n' piss catchers. Disgusting.

At some point, I think 6 months in, I decided it was my turn to redecorate the bathroom. My mother mailed me a chic clear plastic number with black and white striping. As I was folding up her hobby horse shower curtain in the middle of the living room, my friend Sharon stopped up to say hello. The next thing I knew, Sharon had drawn a huge horse donk on one of the horses. Then I put it under the sink in the cabinet. When it was time to renew the lease, I declined; I had already found a new place, all to myself. I wonder if the shower curtain made a resurrection with it's new appendage.

The end.