"Peanuts" Shower Curtain & Me.

This is absolutely pleasant.

I picked this up at Target last night, which was supposed to be a trip to ONLY buy the immediate essentials, and ended up being a grandiose display of gluttony. It's no secret that at Target, you're guaranteeed to spend at least over a hundred bucks at any given time, on everything you do not need at all. Obviously, essentials will be damned, 'cause the black-hole of Target is wide and wholly accepted by the immediate masses. No one seems to complain, or is alarmed or worried at the fact they just spent all their money on toilet paper and a few jumbo bags of Reese's Pieces. This is the problem with Target and mega-marts in general. It's a conniving, bizarre maze of commercialism and overconsumption, a constant bully of bullshit being pumped into the meek and innocent and poor.

Naw, I dunno. People just like to buy stuff.

Without Target and it's continual flow of unique and needless junk, how else would I be able to own a set of elegant AC/DC pint glasses? Or a dorky shirt I thought looked cool but soon realized it wasn't at all and is now in my "Never Ever Wear Section" of my closet? Tell me, where would I be without a Peanuts themed shower curtain? On second thought, don't tell me. I may cry.

There's not much to say, really, except that I love this. Over the last twenty-four hours, I've become enamored with this bright, red and white masterpiece of fabric (yes, it's made of cotton and is very legit) and I'm drawn to use the bathroom at any chance I get, now more than ever. And with my current turd track-record, you'd swear I was off doing heavy drugs in the bathtub or recreating the episode of "Roseanne" where DJ learns how to jerk off. That was a good episode.

Admittedly, I never understood Peanuts. For a young kid, it was never really all that funny, and when compared to the then current Far Side, Calvin and Hobbes, etc. littering the funny papers, you'd think Peanuts was trying to tell you something deep and meaningful only the brilliant or painfully disturbed could possibly understand. Or it was just telling you to "fuck off."

Maybe it was a highly sophisticated brand of comedy, with the humor and laughs based in the intricate art and detailing? Who knew?

Turns out, I love and have forever loved Peanuts. Maybe more the idea of Peanuts, as lame as that sounds. I like it to just BE there. The television specials have forever been a part of all my favorite holidays, and that damned Charlie Brown Christmas Tree is just the cutest thing ever. There's a certain calming nature to Peppermint Patty and Pigpen and Linus, a sensation of wonder and magic, a "gang's all here" mentality keeping you on track, a smooth joy and certainty that everything will be alright.

Okay. You're absolutely right in saying that nearly all of the newspaper's comics are total shit, but to me, it's not about chuckles and knee-slaps. It's somehow transcended past making you giggle and guffaw. It's about buying that huge Sunday paper at the end of the week, it's about throwing away all the coupons and electronics store crap, it's about knowing Garfield will be there to help you skirt away the Sunday blues. Both B.C. and Haggar the Horrible will give a wink and a nod and Blondie will both delight and charm. As shitty as your life is, the Peanuts crew will make everything better. All these comics will suck MAJOR ASS, but they're there for you. Your friends are fucking there for you, man.

I need to stop drinking. Anyway.

For a while now, I've been trying to locate the fabled "sushi shower curtain," a full, plastic triumph showcasing the art and wonder of all that is sushi. I've only seen it once, in a hip, cool-dude clothing store, and online. Of course, online, they are currently and seemingly forever sold out, and I refuse to buy online, 'cause that's cheating. It was to complete the Japanese theme I had going in my bathoom, which has now mutated into something else entirely. I've gone from "everything green" to "everything red" to it's now current state, "Peanuts curtain, green bath mats and I don't give a fuck." It's all around freeing, but utterly chaotic. Someone with a hyper-intense fear of dissorder may or may not have their head explode in my bathroom. I guess Buddha statuettes and William Shatner posters will just have to get along. Sorry, guys.

Uggh. See? It just doesn't feel right.

But while in Target, I actually needed to buy a shower liner thing, so adding another twenty bucks to the bill for a curtain covered in dog gags and rain jokes didn't seem too excessive. But you know the shower liner thing? It's that other piece of plastic that sits behind your classy curtain and helps ward off a wet bathroom floor. I hate a wet bathroom floor. I also hate when that piece of plastic gets super cloudy and slimey. I'm to the point where I dare not set foot near the bottom of that liner, in fear of being infected by that discolored mess. I'd like to just stock up on plastic liners, changing them out every few weeks or so, but that's so unbelievably wasteful that I oh fuck I bought six of them. Al Gore is going to kill me.

I know it's just the aftermath of a soapy lifestyle, but it's still pretty brutal. All I know is that when my toe rubs against something that feels like a jellyfish, I'm out, game over. It feels like a jellyfish, people. Can you not feel my pain through my words?

For the good of all that is happy and pure and hypnotically boring, this is an absolute must-have. My wildly hodge-podge bathroom and it's refusal to be cohesive with any pattern or direction has now been pushed into an even bigger mess, but if you're like me, quick and confusing snippets of Peanuts comics will delight and amaze, even on the worst of days. I shower in peace now. And I love that. Generation after generation of mildy entertained newspaper comics enthusiasts can't be wrong, this Peanuts shower curtain is an absolute steal! Well, if you can't find that sushi one. Or anything with a robot on it. Or Pokemon themed.

I feel ya, buddy.