If you're going to take a leak ... (A rant by MMSW)

If I was that guy I would have just gone outside. You probably would have had more privacy.

 

you'd think we live in a turd world country.

 

You bring Randy Moss to New England, and this is what happens ...

 

"You aren't the one, who had to walk into the boys' bathroom, okay, after having tuh, to wake up early, you know, there's no, no coffee in the teachers' lounge, and then you, you walk into the bathroom just to find a big dook laying there in the urinal! Like it's laughin' at you!"

 

I'm confident I have previously related the tale of the Saturday afternoon when I ambled into work at USAT -- remember, there's nobody there on Friday (much) or Saturday -- and somebody has left a loaf in the floor of the men's room.

Not in the stall, in the floor in front of the sink.

This being Saturday, the ventilation is dialed down for the weekend. It was ripe in there.

I can't imagine what the thinking there might have been. A deliberate act? I suppose so.

And no, I did not clean it up. I had to draw the line there, so to speak.

 

At one of my former newspapers, a fellow made his way past security one Saturday morning, went up to the floor where the features reporters sat (of course, nobody was there), and proceeded to whiz all over the desks. Somebody walked in on him while he was zipping up. As the story goes, he simply zipped up, gave the person a smile and walked right back out the door through which he came in.

 

Jerry: I've had this condition since I was 11! I've been in and out of hospitals my whole life. I have no control over it. Doctors have told me that when I feel it, the best thing to do is just release it. Otherwise, I could die.
Security Guard: Well you're still not allowed.
Jerry: Do you hear what I'm saying to you?! I'm telling you that if I don't go, I could die. Die. Is it worth dying for?
Security Guard: That's up to you.
Jerry: So you don't care if I die.
Security Guard: What I care about is the sanitary condition of the parking facility. JERRY It was life and death.
Security Guard: Uh huh.
Jerry: Oh, I'm lying. Why would I do it unless I was in mortal danger? I know it's against the law.
Security Guard: I don't know.
Jerry: Because I could get Uromysitisis poisoning and die. That's why!...Do you think I enjoy living like this?...the shame, the humiliation...You know I have been issued a public urination pass by the city because of my condition. Unfortunately my little brother ran out of the house with it this morning. ... Him and his friends are probably peeing all over the place. You want to call the Department of Social Services? Oh, it's Saturday. They're closed today. My luck.

 

I have home-bowl syndrome. I can't go anywhere unless I am 100 percent comfortable. One of my buddies is the same way. He's left a party and driven home an hour so he knew he could use his bathroom in the morning.
Then I have my friend who will go anywhere, anytime. His favorite thing is to take the Browns to the Super Bowl at bars when they are most crowded.

 

My favorite bathroom ever was on the first floor of the dorm I lived in for two years. It was tucked out of sight, in an enclave beyond the vending machines, pay phones and couches/chairs that passed for a common area. It was one stall...that's it. Sure beat the hell out of the bathrooms on my floor.

So every Monday night in the fall, I'd order pizza, watch MNF, occassionally drink a couple Killians and generally chill out before the weekly rush of deadline (which basically went from Tuesday morning thru Thursday morning). And then, as soon as the MNF game ended (and usually after my fantasy team lost in the last possession in heartbreaking fashion), I'd go downstairs and unleash the full fury of my bowels in my private little stall. The only time someone ever knocked on the door was when the resident security dude had to take a dump during his shift. Man, that stall ruled.

It was pretty much the antithesis of the bathrooms at my first job, which redefined grungy. There was no soap (hey, what do you want, it was a JRC shop) and the toilets were just fucking disgusting. One day, I brought in one of those dispensers of Dial soap for the bathroom. The next day, it was gone. "Someone in composing probably took it," said one of my fellow sports staffers. "They never bathe." Good times.

 

Welcome to the board, Shitbreak.

 

At my old paper, one of my co-workers quit and pissed on two reporters chairs and an advertising lady's chair. He also used the Assistant Managing Editor's phone to wipe his ass.
We could barely control our laughter the next day when we saw the AME talking on his phone. I can't imagine the smell.