January 27

A gang of topless girls greets me every time I slide back the shower curtain.  The fact that they have vacant stares and impossible hair colors does little to put me at ease;  in fact, I think that makes it worse. I wonder what is stranger, the fact that the Weasels insist on bathing with these girls every night, or the fact that when I shower with them, I either throw a washcloth over them, or  turn their box around so their backs are to me.  Brings back too many high school locker room memories.