Sailin' away to Key Lardo.
Took my first bath in the garden tub a couple of nights ago; this also happens to be the first bathtub bath (as opposed to bathing in the shower, wiseguy...) I've taken in, oh, thirteen years, give or take a year.
It took a certain amount of intestinal fortitude for me to take the plunge, so to speak, as this bathtub is flanked by wall-sized mirrors on two sides. I don't think I'm old enough to be able to take such a sight...
Once I got over my initial shame, embarrassment and morbid hilarity, however, it was a pleasant experience. It'll never do as a start to my workday, but it could be a pretty schweet way to put a lousy day at the office (and, really, isn't every day at the office perforce a lousy day..?) well behind me.
With my reflection being well nigh unavoidable, I was forced to admit, to my regret, that the sight of me in a bubble bath can only in the most tenuous fashion recall Al Pacino's Tony Montana soaking in a tub/indoor pool in the remake of Scarface; but Edward G. Robinson's similarly stogie-smokin' Johnny Rocco chillin' in his bubble bath in Key Largo? Oh, yes. C'est moi. If EGR had made a meal of Peter Lorre during one of his plump spells before climbing into the tub, that is.
Now excuse me while I go soak my head...
It took a certain amount of intestinal fortitude for me to take the plunge, so to speak, as this bathtub is flanked by wall-sized mirrors on two sides. I don't think I'm old enough to be able to take such a sight...
Once I got over my initial shame, embarrassment and morbid hilarity, however, it was a pleasant experience. It'll never do as a start to my workday, but it could be a pretty schweet way to put a lousy day at the office (and, really, isn't every day at the office perforce a lousy day..?) well behind me.
With my reflection being well nigh unavoidable, I was forced to admit, to my regret, that the sight of me in a bubble bath can only in the most tenuous fashion recall Al Pacino's Tony Montana soaking in a tub/indoor pool in the remake of Scarface; but Edward G. Robinson's similarly stogie-smokin' Johnny Rocco chillin' in his bubble bath in Key Largo? Oh, yes. C'est moi. If EGR had made a meal of Peter Lorre during one of his plump spells before climbing into the tub, that is.
Now excuse me while I go soak my head...