Nemesis: Genesis



What did I ever do to you?


The universe operates in a predictable pattern. For every good there is an evil. Light must cast a shadow. Every Superman has a Lex Luthor. Every Lion-o has a Mumm-Ra. If you haven't discovered your personal antagonist yet, you will. My nemesis? Shower Curtain.

In our bathroom, a somewhat unassuming shower curtain passively hangs. It is suspended from ten stainless steel rings and possesses a white, quilted cloth exterior, a clear plastic liner, and the soul of an asshole. The curtain rod has two pieces that need to be twisted to extend and maintain proper pressure against the tiled walls for support. The curtain rod is not the issue. The extremely inconspicuous shower curtain is the issue.

My first confrontation with Shower Curtain happened a few years ago after a night of competitive imbibing at a local barre and grille. I entered the bathroom while Kristin Luszcz and Sarah were in the living room practicing their Wii bowling (un)skills, preparing for their eminent defeat because I rule at Wii bowling. I lifted the toilet seat for a standard urinary experience. Suddenly, and without provocation, I was propelled backward and engulfed by Shower Curtain. "My, what on earth is happening?" I eloquently whispered. (The people in the living room claim that I screamed, "BBRRAAAMMMMBBBLLLOOOO YIIIIIIEEEEEEE TOOOOOOORRRRRMMM BBBBBRRRRRBBBBRRRFFFFFF?!" They heard wrong.) My field of vision was filled with nothing but Shower Curtain and I was laying on my back in the bathtub, attempting to free myself from his death grip. The curtain rod, being a pacifist and wishing to remain neutral, lay on the outside of the tub. Overcoming the incredibly unbelievable strength of Shower Curtain was difficult, but after a short struggle, I won. (The unhelpful ladies in the living room claim a sound resembling a man tumbling down a 300-foot aluminum ladder, trying to grasp at the rungs with soup pans taped to his hands remained constant for thirty minutes. They heard wrong.)

It didn't end there.

I cajoled the curtain rod into a brief alliance and spent the next few minutes trying to reestablish Shower Curtain in his original position. (The nosey nuisances in the living room claim that I cursed at Norse gods for 15 minutes, fell completely silent for 5...they didn't seem to worry...and continued with a rant about my distaste for hygiene in general. They heard wrong.)

I was pissed off and ready to bring the Wii-thunder when I exited the bathroom. I couldn't have been in there for more than 3 minutes, but when I exited, I found Sarah asleep on the couch and Kristin cleaning up a wine spill. (They claim I had to have been in the bathroom for at least 45 minutes due to the fact that they watched an entire episode of Gossip Girl in my absence. They are dicks.)

I let Sarah sleep (Sarah claims I sat on her and tried to make her take a tequila shot), helped Kristin clean up the wine spill (Kristin claims I spilt the wine in the first place), took a tequila shot with Kristin (always a good idea) and proceeding to lay down Wiidacious victory at bowling (because I'm a winner).

That night, my nemesis revealed himself. I have had many run-ins with Shower Curtain since our initial struggle and the tales of my confrontations with that piece of shit will continue to be told.