bathroom mystery solved

I found this in the bathroom the other day and wondered what the hell it was.

At first glance, it looked like some sort of shoe gadget. You know, one of those things the manufacturers put in a shoe to help keep its shape? Daryl DID just recently purchase a pair of sneakers online (which I told him was probably not the best way to purchase shoes) and I thought perhaps it was from one of those.

The sneakers he purchased really couldn’t sneak up on much of anything though. He put them on like a giddy 9 year old who thought he would be able to run faster and jump higher! That is until he got out on the sidewalk in front of our condo. He was behind me as I heard the dreaded “squeak… squeak… squeak” of his walk in what we now refer to as his “squeakers.” At least he kept the receipt, if we can locate it.

As I got down on the floor to more closely examine this “molded plastic,” I noticed a couple of used Q-tips and a huge lint slash hair ball behind the toilet. I was beginning to realize that I needed to clean the bathroom a little better next time as I finally came to the conclusion that this unknown white thing was not for a shoe.

As I lay on the bathroom floor in my robe I wondered if maybe it was some sort of “spork?” It had a handle and it appeared as though one could hold it like a utensil to eat with right? However, I deducted that an eating utensil would most likely never be found in one’s bathroom. Although, recently, I did find myself finishing a half bag of popcorn one night after some extended wine drinking while sitting on the hopper. Sorry for the image.

Still unsure as to what this mystery plastic was on the floor of the bathroom, I had an “a-ha” moment and realized it MUST be a sex toy! After all it has a handle, and odd shaped holes all over no matter which way I turned it, so it must be something from ToyBox.com right? With all of our “frequent-buyer” points, perhaps this was a “bonus gift with case” purchase that Daryl ordered as a surprise for me?

To my dismay, as I examined this white synthetic mystery much closer, I noticed the word “Hydra” embossed within its wide mouth and realized that it was simply a holder for a razor. I immediately wondered why Daryl would keep it around after ripping the razor from its package and realized with a grin that the man keeps everything. He’s one of those hoarders you see on TV that lives under piles of stuff. I’d snap a few photos to illustrate this to you, but I’ve already signed an agreement at the onset of our relationship that I have to run photos involving personal space, ass shots, shower pics and sleeping drool portraits past my partner first. Sheesh. As if I’d expose anything about our private lives online.

Now, I have to get up off the bathroom floor. ugh.

Today is my Dad’s Birthday…

I guess I should also explain that it’s the FIRST birthday I’m celebrating without him. I don’t even know how old he would have been. I’m like that. He passed away two days after Christmas last year of a stroke. It was a complete surprise.

I don’t feel sad really (that’s a lie because I’ve teared up several times while proofing this), however, I DO miss being able to text him (he JUST learned how to do that about 6 months before his death). I also miss knowing that I just can’t call him to wish him a Happy Birthday.

In our past, we never really had the type of Father-Son connection like you’d see on the Brady Bunch or the Cosby Show. We shared a fairly tumultuous relationship growing up. A lot of yelling and anger were common in our familial world. I wasn’t his perfect son and he really wasn’t what I wanted or expected as a father emotionally (although he ALWAYS provided for us economically).

We actually became estranged for a few years when I discovered he was cheating on my Mom and I thought he was a hypocrite and I also hated him for not being true. It’s funny in retrospect how the more opposite I thought we were, the more we were actually alike.

After many heartfelt conversations as we matured and became somewhat wiser sharing a few well intentioned glasses of deep red wine, we eventually grew away from the resentment and into respecting each other. Dad totally accepted my “lifestyle” after I explained it to him, and it was about at that time that I “forgave” him for his infidelity and subsequent divorce from my Mom several years earlier. We began to see each other as just two men who happened to be Father and Son and who also realized we were not perfect. At the risk of oversimplification, it was truly an epiphany for both of us.

As our lives moved forward, I’d call him about once a month and we’d chat about each other’s jobs a little, he’d ask how my partner, Daryl, was doing. I’d ask him how his health was and how his wife Sharon was and then we’d end the call with the promise to have lunch as soon as MY schedule allowed. My schedule never works for things like that.

I don’t regret words unspoken. We ALWAYS said we loved each other at the end of our conversations.

I think I’m going to do what Daryl and his Mom usually do for his Dad and sister, Jo who passed several years ago; I’m going to release a few helium balloons this evening after work, to the sky… and watch them while I squint until I can’t see them anymore as they sail into the heavens and into my Dad’s arms with wishes of peace.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll once again see his face in mine as I shave in the mirror and grin.

Happy Birthday Dad.

Afro Puffs.

So after about a week give or take… a week, I had noticed that Daryl was no longer shaving his head. Now he’s done that before. He’s gone a few days without doing it and to be honest I don’t know HOW he does the shaving thing in the first place. Once he actually shaved a CHUNK from his scalp that bled for hours and I SWORE I could see his skull throbbing! (hehe, not really, but that sounded really SAW 3-like). Personally, I have a hard enough time shaving under my lip. It just takes too much time and the older I get the LESS maintenance I want to require (although, I think it’s working in reverse). I digress.

ANYway… like I said, he’s gone without shaving before, but this time I can actually see “fuzz” growing on his scalp. Not just a shadow, but real honest to goodness FUZZ! As an added bonus, it’s got some beautiful gray on the sides as well and it feels like the crewcut hair that GI-Joe used to have in the 60’s.

So I asked Daryl in my caring, loving way, “I see you’re not shaving your head. What’s with that?” He smiled kindly… almost devilishly… grinned and said, “I’m going to grow AFRO PUFFS.” I stared blankly at him and immediately typed “Afro Puffs” into my phone’s GOOGLE app.

Being an interracial couple, Daryl and I STILL have ethnicity “hurdles.” It’s taken me six years to learn that there is no such thing as “colored pencils, colored lights and I’m STILL unclear on when the “FLESH” tone crayon from Crayola was removed from the box of 64. On the other hand, I continue to explain to the Durnell family that we don’t use the “C” word in my presence. Only Crackers can call Crackers, Crackers. And not all Irish men drink all the time (shit… looking at my FaceBook status for the past six months totally disputes that).

I just figured that the “Afro Puff” was yet another ethnic food that I would get to try like collard greens or jello or something. So I continued my research and lo and behold I found a few photos on what these things were. After my initial reaction of “you’re fucking kidding right?,” I decided that there MUST be a few advantages to having a boyfriend with AFRO PUFFS.

I guess I’ll be able to buy him colored, er, African American ribbons to tie them with as birthday gifts. HANDLES! Yeah I could use them as handles for um… for er… STEERING? Imagine how BUTCH they will look! Almost gansta (do I capitalize gansta? Yet ANOTHER interracial hurdle). Daryl would need a new name. I can see “Daryl Dee” or “Puff Daddy Dee” or even  ‘Fiddle Dee Dee!’ Next thing you know, he’ll be wantin’ to low ride his pants as well.