Casa Bonita closes tomorrow and I got a phone call from my brother this morning telling me that the whole family is going to eat there. Dad wants me to bring my camera. His fascination with taking pictures in odd places is beyond me. But funny and cute. Personally, I think Casa Bonita's food tastes a like cardboard, but it will be free cardboard. I'm there! And so is Doug. Little does he know that I'm going to try to take a few pictures of the two of us. I only have one of him and then whatever is in the high school yearbooks. That's completely unacceptable! Especially since the only picture I have of him is from the night we re-met back in May, so we look like we're taking the picture because we were forced.
My bathroom is really small. This means that my Roman tub is only a few inches away from my toilet. I dry off after I step out of the shower and onto the rug. The first step in drying my hair involes putting it up into the turban-like thing shown here (yes, it's me. I played around with Photoshop because I'm not quite my sexiest right after the shower):
For you men out there, this is how you accomlish this look:
1. Hold stretched towel horizontally in front of body.
2. Flip head violently forward until it is between knees.
3. Line towel up evenly with nape of neck.
4. Bring ends of towel together such that the edge is around face.
6. Flip head back over.
This isn't anything new.
When I complete step #6, the end of the towel always slaps my gently on the back. There have been three times since I have moved into my apartment when I have what I call toilet towel. I think this might be a new term, as I've never heard the phrase nor the affliction. Toilet towel occurs when somehow in the process of making turban-towel, the end of the towel dips itself into the toilet. Thus, when I flip back over instead of being hit with a dry towel, it's wet. Being hit with toilet water ain't really as refreshing as it may seem. Eww!