Monday, July 25, 2011

Bathroom Complaint.

I hate public restrooms. Who doesn't really? I never hear anyone saying "You know what I really prefer? Taking a shit in a foreign, dirty environment in close proximity to strangers as opposed to my bathroom at home."

No one has ever said this to me.

Recently, I was on my way to a job interview. Well, it was more like a follow-up to an interview. I got the job already on the basis of awesomeness. Here is a brief synopsis of the initial interview:

I kicked down the door and threw some smoke bombs on the ground.
Me: "I will work here starting when I want to for a large salary!"
I jump on the desk and rip an incredible guitar solo (the impressiveness is compounded by the fact that I never played guitar before, and the interviewer seems to know this somehow).
Interviewer: "Hired on the basis of awesomeness!"

There you have it.

Anyway, back to my original topic: public restrooms.

Who started calling them restrooms anyway? What happens in there is pretty far from resting. So, I'm on my way to sign up for benefits at my new job (this is my non-internet based work). I happened to have an extra cup of coffee that morning and I was smoking like I was cousins with the Marlboro Man. This, coupled with the fact that I had a bacon, egg, and cheese that morning all meant one thing: either I get to the bathroom fast or I would forever be labeled "Shit pants" around the office. Well, "Shit pants" or something else clever.

Turns out the only place nearby was a Walmart. Now, generally I'm a Target man because I'm classy as hell. However, there was no time to be picky.  This wasn't even one of those new Mega Walmarts...this one was forgotten by time around 1991. No grocery section, not even a lawn and garden. So I rush to the back and go for the nearest stall. Let's just say it had been used. Thoroughly. Luckily, someone had the good sense to correct the problem by shoving a week's worth of paper towels in there. 

Stall one was out.

That left two more stalls, one of which was occupied. I get busy in the open one and it isn't long before I notice my companion in the next stall, grunting like he's giving birth. "Mmmmmmhhh...hhhhhmmmmmm...ahhhgggghhh!!" the sounds he emits were a cross between desperation and exhaustion. They lasted for his entire stay in stall #3. 

What is the deal? I mean this isn't the first time that I heard massive struggles while in/near a public bathroom. Now, I suppose that hemorrhoids are excusable, but what are these guys struggling with so much? By the virtue of "practice makes perfect" anyone over six months of age should be a god damn professional with the whole pooping thing. 
Other people are only the first problem in a public restroom.

Here are some other problems.

1. The smell.
2. The knowledge that there is no telling what kind of freakish mutant was sitting there moments before me.
3. Those air dryers that have about as much strength as an old man's dying breath.
4. Those push-down style faucets that only release water for half a second, forcing the person to wash their hands with one hand, a nearly impossible feat. I think water usage was more lenient at Auschwitz.
5. The grime... and don't try to fool me with those sign-in sheets for people that have "checked the restroom for cleanliness" All this proves to me is that someone was capable of writing on a sheet every once in a while.

These are my current issues with public restrooms. 

This is totally unrelated, but I was asked to settle a bet:
Floss, brush, mouthwash.
Any other order is an abomination.

That is all, you should hear from me again.


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