Due to the Threat of Lawsuits, the Diesel Wellness Center No Longer Offers Wand Cleaning

Elizadoohicky requested that I post proof of the existence of Mr. Bleach and the Diesel Wellness Center, so I guess it must be about time to do a photo post.

Here's the Diesel Wellness Center in all its glory.



The DWC got its start when the author of a book called Eight Steps to a Pain-Free Back came to speak at Google. There were signs all over the place with her book title on them, and it took all of my willpower not to scribble "excruciatingly painful" between Eight and Steps. Anyway, I found out that the author, Esther Gokhale, not only wrote a book but also has a website and runs the Esther Gokhale Wellness Center.

"That's it!" I thought. "I have a book and a website but no Wellness Center! That's the missing piece of my fame puzzle!" So I printed out that sign.

At the bottom, in case you can't read it, it says "Appointments Only." This allows me to sidestep any difficult questions about what the Diesel Wellness Center actually does. I'm not sure why a leaf and a feather are stuck to the sign. They just appeared one day. I guess it's all part of the mystery of the DWC.

Also, you'll notice that I have two name placards, whereas each of my officemates has only one. That's because I'm more important than they are. This also explains why their names are so blurry. The clarity of one's name placard is an indication of one's job security at Google. Better polish those resumes, whatever your names are!

Down the hall is the bathroom, which is unremarkable except for the fact that it has the most crazy space-age toilets you've ever seen.



By the way, ordinarily ripples in the toilet water like that would mean that dinosaurs are approaching, but in this case it was because the toilet sensed movement and was about to flush. Anyway, here's a closeup of the "control panel."



Nothing too fancy, just your standard picture of a blue guy and a pink guy about to be very surprised by a couple of giant caterpillars. But wait, there's more!



Flip it open and there's a whole bunch more controls! I don't know about you, but I don't need that kind of pressure when I'm having my alone time. I mean, literally, I don't need that kind of pressure. And wand cleaning? WTF?!



I'll clean my own wand, thank you very much.

Okay, on to Mr. Bleach.

I started to feel a little left out at my wife's family reunion a couple weeks ago, and just when I was about to go sulk in the corner, Mr. Bleach showed up! He was like, "Hey, let's take some pictures!" And I was like, "Right on, Mr. Bleach!"



The girl on my right was Mr. Bleach's handler. I cut her out of the picture because I thought her parents might not want me posting her picture on the interwebs. For all I know, there's a "pr3teen girls with anthropomorphized bleach bottles" subculture out there some where. Sick bastards.

Here's Climber with Mr. Bleach.



And here's one of Mr. Bleach chillin' with his honeys, who are, ironically, natural blonds. From left to right: Hot Blond Cousin #1, Mr. Bleach, Hot Blond Cousin #2, Hot Blond Mrs. Diesel #1.



And here's Mrs. Diesel's aunt and uncle with Mr. Bleach.



I especially like that picture because it reminds me of that painting, American Gothic.



Some people needed some convincing to be photographed with Mr. Bleach.



Not dogs, though. Dogs love Mr. Bleach.



I have a lot more Mr. Bleach photos, but you get the idea.

One more photo. This, friends, is where the magic happens.



By the way, Hot Blond Mrs. Diesel #1 and I will have been married for 15 years tomorrow! If the moment feels right, I might just drop the "#1." (I'm kidding, sweetie. You'll always be my #1.)