Richard: True story: in grad school, I was asked to direct an all-female production of Samuel Beckett‘s Waiting for Godot. It was terrible. Godot is a gloomy, doomy, barren wasteland of a play, and there I was, surrounded by a cast of vibrant, fresh-faced, young women, who, as it happened, were all on the same menstrual cycle. Eggs and existentialism don’t mix.

The entire time we were in rehearsal, I kept thinking of that French film, Delicatessen — mostly because of Aurore, the woman who tries to commit suicide but keeps getting foiled . Not only is Aurore a great metaphor for Waiting for Godot — because really, why don’t those fucking clowns just kill themselves and give us back the two hours they’ve stolen from our lives? — but also, I occasionally left rehearsals feeling like I needed a nice long bath with a toaster.
 
And so: meet Aurore’s modern, gay equivalent (who could double for another French actor, Jean-Hughes Anglade, in a pinch). What could have made him so sad? That terrible paint job? That terrible paint? That bargain-basement vanity, stolen from a Big Lots employee restroom? The unfinished enclosure on that cast-iron tub? The weird Frankencurtain staring at his nakedness in whitefaced horror? Or is it that halfassed silvery border, last employed as a belt on a pair of high-waisted palazzo pants at Limited Express circa 1991 — the same year Delicatessen was released? OMG, it’s all coming together.
 
Thankfully, at least part of our friend understands: it gets better.

File Under:Bathroom Abominations

24

Richard: What we have here is a failure to communicate. And by “communicate”, I mean “use condoms”. Because if Mr. X and his fertile kin had bothered to use a little protection, Mr. X wouldn’t be burdened with so many Olan Mills family portraits, and he would probably have better a better bedroom set, too.

As it is, the only decent piece (of furniture) Mr. X owns is that dresser, which is (a) overwhelming that Astoria one-bedroom and (b) covered in veneer, which is one of my least favorite things to be covered in. The dresser, in turn, is overwhelmed by all those 8x10s of cousins and nephews and sisters and other relatives he sees once a year at Christmas. The bar stool — which stands where there was once a normal corner-table, until Mr. X loaned it to his brother, Manny, neither of which will ever be seen again — is overwhelmed by the TV. And the floor sconce is overwhelmed by everything in the goddamn room, but then, you can’t really expect anything from Walmart to make a dramatic statement. (As proof: the bland, mismatched Walmart bedspread, duvet, and pillowcase, all of which are trying to slink back toward a Natalie Merchant album cover.)

It’s curious that all that overwhelming adds up to an underwhelming effect, but then, I suppose there are bigger mysteries in the universe. Natalie Merchant included.

File Under:Bathroom Abominations

21

David: I’ve never understood why people continue to live with Christmas decorations and gewgaws on display throughout their home (and bathroom?), past, say, January 7. Isn’t the end of the first week in January supposed to represent the conclusion of Lent or the Advent or something like that — the day when the three wise men showed up with the incense? I dunno, I get confused.

Regardless, let’s just say, hypothetically, that this photo was shot in December. FAIL! There’s nothing more brain-scrambling than mixing holiday garland with ethnic arts and crafts. In Bali, where many of these items were purchased, it’s considered a foible worthy of punishment by tribal elders. So think twice people! And consider: If this is what this gentleman’s bathroom looked like during Christmas, we can only image how the rest of the home was decked out. Perhaps he’s neighbors with this fellow — where the garland just wouldn’t stop? Poor dears.

File Under:Bathroom Abominations

45

Davd K: Obviously the homeowner was not aware of the hallucinogenic effect this bathroom would have on the unfortunate folks forced to use it. This is a photograph and still I’m teetering on tumbling out of my seat from disorientation. Too many hard angles, corners, junctures and gleaming, distracting fixtures. Are we entering a bathroom or making a nosedive crash landing at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport where the last image that flashes before our eyes is that of a naked KKK member?

Robert: All those weird angles, it’s like a low-buj stage set inspired by MC Escher. With an old piece of underwear.

File Under:Bathroom Abominations

26

Steve: Magor recently wrote us about the feelings he was having toward his dark, gloomy bathroom, and the way it might be feeding into his Seasonal Affective Disorder. He worried, “I don’t like going in there as much as I feel like I should. There’s no sunlight at all, and I’m the kind of man who needs a lot of affirmation and positivity. I’m just not happy in there.”

We suggested this cheerful curtain to brighten up Magor’s private “me time.”

Two weeks later, we received this affirmation, “Hey. Yeah, this is helping me. My heart is warmer and I think starting my days in my new, sunnier shower is helping the tone of my interactions all day long. At nights, after the gym, I get home and it reminds me of the possibilities for tomorrow.”

File Under:Bathroom Abominations

23

David: God, those DeMille curtains again. If this is what goes down in their bathroom, imagine the rest of the house. These are the sorta folks who have those gigantic, 3-foot-long, teak fork and knife “art” pieces hanging on their kitchen wall. And their couch, in the living room, is actually the 20-square-feet equivalent of a baby’s play pen — (upholstered in navy blue velour). Lemme outa here.

Richard: Okay, so two problems: (a) Mary’s thong, (b) Mary’s inability to coordinate his pastel undergarments and hand towels into his very bold, patriotic bathroom color scheme. She is so fired.

John: I blame Broadway. I blame showtunes. And given the patriotic theme, I blame ice shows. Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting my ass! Start the balloon drop.

We knew drama queens were always creating tedious little “scenes” for themselves; we just didn’t know they were tedious little set designers as well. I’m sure the raised toilet seat means something. Never show a gun in Act One that you’re not going to use by Act Three.

File Under:Bathroom Abominations