Stuck on You – Part 2 (The Walk of Sticky Shame)

Posted: April 9, 2009 in I'm an asshole, rants, wife, wtf


I like boobies.

This has nothing to do with today’s post.

I just thought I’d throw that out there.

Discuss.

**************

Yesterday I reminisced about how my wife single-handedly ruined our apartment door using hair products on her giant hair back in the 80’s.

On a side note, I’ve single-handedly ruined many a towel in my day using lube and a good imagination…

…but we’re not here to talk about that.


Fast forward to today, where my wife sports a much shorter, sexier do.

Although this requires less hairspray…it still requires hairspray.

Apparently, although years have passed and new advances in science have been made…

…hairspray is still sticky enough to trap small mammals.

Including. Me.

I found this out this past weekend while cleaning the master bathroom that my wife and I share.


Here’s the thing…

Even using the bathroom every day, you never really know how much hairspray is in there – and the extent to what it’s covering…

…until you get the surfaces WET.

That’s what she said.

What?


I discovered this scientifically by dripping water on the tile floor from my fresh-from-the-shower glistening Adonis-like body…

…and stepping in said water.

The water on my feet immediately mixed with the congealed hairspray ALSO invisibly spread on the tile.

The introduction of these two elements immediately created a super-glue substance that would successfully hold Whoopi Goldberg’s mouth shut.

HAHAHAHA!

Made myself laugh.

I love when that happens.


Regardless, I was immediately frozen in place.

“…what the…?”

Fear gripped me…as the heel of my right foot, and ball of my left foot stuck fast to the floor.

“my..GOD…they’ll…never…find…me…tell my family I love them…”

My rubber ducky stared back at me in rubbery silence.

That fucking duck is useless.


My thoughts immediately turn to the show “SurvivorMan” and I begin to assess my situation and surroundings…

Looks like I’m in this for the long haul.

I look around, and wonder if the hand towel is actually edible.

I decide it is not, as I poo’d a little earlier in the day…

…and there were probably still subatomic poo particles clinging on over there.

Poo particle: “Hey Rod!”

Me: “Hey Poo!”

We’re tight.


As I was determined to NOT die of my own e-coli, eating the towel was out.

Also, I do other things with towels very often and lose track on which ones are covered in my own filth.

I’ve digressed.

As I reach down to grab my ankle and give it a pull, my eye catches a small bug on the floor…

…a victim of the glue-trap himself…

…a tiny, horrified, little bug scream etched on his little bug face…

Bug: “…why…?”


DEFIANT, I look towards the sky and yell:

“I WILL NOT DIE THIS WAY!!!!”

Again:

Duck. Does. Nothing.

I was able to pull my feet out of the glue puddle with a “..slurp-smack!” sound as my foot broke free.

..this scene repeated itself as my wet-glue-feet landed back on the floor…as I made my way to the vanity counter…

Finally…I reached the rug in front of one of the sinks.

Hey! The rug…IT’S NOT STICKY!!!

However, the glue mixture on the bottom of my feet combined with the bathroom rug I was now standing on made my feet resemble Sarah Jessica Parker’s face buried in Matthew Broderick’s crotch.


I contemplated kissing the ground out of joy from my newfound freedom…

…until the fear of being stuck like Rosie O’Donnell to a chicken drumstick stopped me.

The rest of the bathroom…as I went on cleaning…had the same, gritty, Super Hold coating.

Apparently…hairspray particles migrate.

FLY! BE FREE!


Regardless, I blasted the toilet from a distance with enough Oven-Off cleaner to effectively poison my local water supply.

(reminder to myself to buy bottled water)

I was keeping my distance from the toilet…there was NO WAY I was getting stuck to that thing…

…as not only had the hairspray created a protective coating on the TOP of the seat…but it had also sealed – for future posterity – a few poop splash spots on the BOTTOM of the seat.

…and I don’t think the scientists of the future want to examine THAT.

Hairspray.

Drives me crazy.

But, damn…my wife looks good.

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