An open letter from the Dobbs bathtub: Come on in, the water’s fine!

Hey. It’s me, The Dobbs Bathtub. Maybe you forgot about me. But I’ve been here, biding my time as you all belittled me and threw up in your mouths at the mere thought of my existence. It’s finally time for my voice to be heard.

 

See, I recently found out with the help of the internet that physical touch is my love language. So when no one is rubbing their bare ass all over me, it can make me feel really neglected. It’s been so long… I’ve only ever been used by students who haven’t heard about germ theory yet, and that just isn’t enough to sustain me. The only person who ever stood by me was Newt Gingrich, whose slippery little body graced me with its presence every single day that he was a student from 1961 until 1965, and many, many times since he graduated.

 

I’ve had this recurring dream recently where I’m me, but I’m in Ancient Rome, when no one thought public baths were “disgusting” or “weird” or “probably going to give you Pontiac Fever.” In my dream, every single resident of Dobbs takes 15 minute turns rubbing their bare asses all over me, and we’re all just laughing the entire time, no breaks. There’s no time to even change out the water! Then even more people come to see what all the fun is about, my best friend Newt Gingrich joins in, and even my dad’s there, but in my dream he’s Julia Child. The dream usually ends with everyone standing around me chanting, “Tub! Tub! Tub! Tub!” I find myself going to sleep earlier and earlier so that I might be able to escape to my dreams.

 

But then I wake up. And I have to face my hellish reality. I am mocked day in and day out. The worst is when I am forced to watch as someone passes me by to use one of the showers; I feel I am Tantalus, cursed to spend an eternity in Hades coveting something just barely out of reach. In this case, your bare ass. 

 

So come on, Emory.  You didn’t think twice about going to Kaldi’s when it failed its health inspection. Why is this any different? Just drop trou in your public bathroom that you share with 50 other people and descend into my soupy depths. Think of me like a pool if that helps. Except, oh wait, I’m way cooler than a pool because no one else is going to feel the temperature change if you pee in me. Just be more like Newt Gingrich, Emory. Give me some of that bare ass.