...that if someone had the nerve to patronize another about her (uh-hem) hair being all over the bathroom floor, that said person would have the decency to clean up his chest hair from the bathtub.
One would think that, right?
Well, this morning I got into the shower, only to greet millions of tiny fuzzlings that previously lived on my roommate's chest. Each individual hair is admittedly a very small entity, but when those little buggers team up, they somehow form a huge globule capable of clogging the drain. Thusly, I was forced (As my dad would say: "You weren't forced. Did someone have a gun to your head?" Whatever, Pa) to stand in 3 inches of freshly-shaved chest hair infested water. When I lifted my feet to get out of the tub, they stuck to my feet making it look like my dogs couldn't keep up with their 5 o'clock shadow.
I mean, I understand that the guy needs to shave his chest... He is a bodybuilder, after all. Wink. Wink.
Jokes aside, this is war, my friends! War, I say!