Tag Archives: Bathroom bullshit

Bowel movement death trap Monday.

Our floor at work has a Hispanic man that serves as our bathroom janitor. That poor, poor man.

Yesterday. The return of the work force. I’ve worked in mostly super mega corporate environments. Every year around the 2nd or 3rd week of December, everyone magically vanishes. Vacation time or not.

Roads clear, driving to work in the morning is almost a pleasure.

You can hear yourself think at your own desk.

I no longer have to eat lunch at 10:45. The line at the salad place is even shorter. Fuck yes, salads are exciting.

Anyway.

Everyone magically vanishes, but not their shit.

The Monday after a holiday break…almost of any length… is a complete nightmare for support staff of any kind. But the bathrooms. I was dreading it coming in today. I knew by the abundance of SALT LIFE or SALT LYFE stickers on cars I passed that morning I’d have to put up with someone’s awful, awful compounded holiday shit.

The janitor does his detail around 7:45 each morning, replace TP, wipe the counters, it’s an in and out job. But not on bowel movement death trap Monday, no sir. He just stands outside waiting. That’s an indicator that I’m not going to fix my hair for at least another 15 minutes.

I’m not really sure how it happens, how these people let it get so bad. They’re in there huffing and puffing like crazy and I can’t deal with that.

It gets worse. These damn bastards fucking love BIGGEST LOSER interoffice competitions complete with hundreds of dollars in the winner pot. Simply translated, biggest shitter. Some take supplements to help them fire one to 7 shits a day. Unacceptable.

These vitamin fueled blowouts often result in the shit shaming of my favorite stall. The large roomy stall. The one where I can pull the toilet paper down without performing cirque du soleil acts. I don’t know if it’s how I was raised, but if you shit all over something….generally you at least make an attempt to clean it up? If you leave poop all over the back of the toilet seat, or some sort of shit spray in the toilet…you wipe or flush a few times? Hell no, not in super mega corporate land.

Some of them pick their favorite time of day to warm up the bathroom. Mine is around 2:40 PM. The janitor makes another round, and cleans just before. I know a lot of the building support staff, they’re good hard working people. I get good intel.

Anyways.

I worked with one guy who everyday no matter what would shit up the woman’s bathroom at 8:50. He got to work at 8:30, then like clockwork go destroy the women’s room. The women in the office hated it. Now these were single person bathrooms, so maybe if someone was desperate and couldn’t wait….sure but not this dude, not every damn day…that’s fucked up, stop eating fucking Bo-jangles.

I know why he did it though, I’ll give him that.

The men’s toilet in this place was horrendous. It also had a window with blinds that didn’t really hug the window well, in a fairly creepy spot. Ants. Fucking Ants. This building had piles of red ants in this specific bathroom, they came in through the window. The toilet seat itself was actually melted and abrasive in the front where your pee pee is supposed to hang out, and the rest of the seat just appeared to have been chewed on by a large dog. Gouges like you’d see on a cutting board in a kitchen.

If you had to use this thing, this throne of filth, you’d be facing one of those accordion closet doors. Inside the closet was all the IT networking gizmo’s for the building. So pretty much, you’re staring at red blinky flashy lights and things. I wonder how many people opened it up thinking there was a camera back there.

Sure I get why he didn’t like that room. It was cold, people could see you from outside in partial shitting view, it was full of ants, the toilet seat would give you cuts or stab you, and it felt like you were being taped.

Regardless, I didn’t like the guy. I had figured out his routine. At 8:45 that Monday morning, I removed everything in the women’s room that could even be thought of as improvised toilet paper. That morning I also learned that the women’s room had baby wipes, aloe toilet paper, hand lotion, candles, and a wicker basket with Sudoku books and actual full books in it. At 8:48, shortly after dismantling the women’s room of wipe-able materials, I do the same to the men’s room.

(Men’s room had single ply and cardboard for paper towels….WTF)

I quickly stash all this shit in the cube across from both bathrooms. Later I regretted this because that cube was always full of water because the toilet upstairs in a separate business office leaked through the ceiling…oh I don’t know…all day everyday…a lot of stuff got wet. Oh well.

8:50. This dude makes a break for the bathroom.

At 9 AM give or take a few minutes this guy yells in the bathroom. “Ah damn what the hell”.

His NJ accent and shittery echo down the hall.

Unexpectedly, he emerges from the bathroom. Pants not even all the way up, wiggles himself into the adjacent men’s room.

Hmm ok weird. This guy is dedicated to wiping I suppose.

Not even 10 seconds later. “What the fuck is going on in this place”.

He actually left the office after that. I’m not sure what all happened. And I’m not sure if I’m a dick. But this man did fowl things in the restroom, men or women’s, justice needed to be served.

I replaced all the wipey goods.

He came back later in the morning. He seemed irritated.

Well…Anyways…

Narnia.

So I told my mom about the first black dick I saw when I was 8 or 9.

So I called my Mom last night to make Christmas plans. Before talking about any of that, I told her about the first time I saw a black dick when I was 8 or 9. Or something.

Hey she asked…“Tell me about this urinal in Arkansas story, how come I don’t know about this”. She seemed very curious…or concerned.

I remember it. Something anyway…

So yeah. Growing up at some point it was decided that we (my mother, brother, myself and a pissed off orange cat) would all move to Santa Rosa, California and then to San Jose.I didn’t really want to move. But we did. San Jose…Which is where a lot of hilarious shit happened. I lit pretty much an entire park on fire, got beat up for NOT buying drugs, swam in the ocean and even used AOL for the first time. It wasn’t so bad really. I learned how to smash my balls into anything, as long as I did it on wheels…bikes, roller-blades, skateboards. School was way more relaxed compared to NC standards….And the teachers did drugs, probably more than the students. If they weren’t doing drugs during class (they called it outdoor meditation) they were doing insane shit like beating kids up or molesting them. It wasn’t so so bad. We had a pool and a hot tub. That was rad.

Anyways.

Moving to CA from NC consisted of cramming tons of shit into a huge truck, including a pissed off nonstop yowling cat. Then driving said truck across the country.

Well we stopped at this truck stop. My brother and I get out to investigate what flavor of condoms they had in the bathroom vending machine. If we were lucky they’d have glow in the dark ones too.

I guess my brother got away from me in all the excitement that is truck stop soda and candy aisles. I get to the bathroom. Stand in front of a urinal. Pee.

Now as a 8 maybe 9 year dude, and I was a dude, when you pee….when you finally pee and release that expertly held pee that you’ve sworn you’re just gonna skip the rest stop break now and brave it for… because you only have to search 3 more screens of grass to cut on ocarina of time….you can’t stop the stream. You can’t stop the stream when you’re a kid. Ever.

Anyways. This truck driver comes through the door like he was Mr. Kool Aid and everybody by the pool had to have some (foreshadowing: not racist). He made tons of noise getting in there. His dick was already out and he was on a mission. This guy probably had cut all screens of grass twice in ocarina of time and still not taken a piss.

This truck driver dudes dick was out. It was like a four packs of Necco chocolate wafers strapped together.

This dude pushed me out of the way and announces..”Get outta the way I gotta go baaaad”.

I pee on the wall. You can’t stop the stream when you’re a kid.

Well anyways…

I feel like I told my mom about this and she cussed this dude out profusely. Seems likely. Hell she damn near held a .357 to the next trucker we came across outside Albuquerque.

And that was the first black dick I ever saw. I saw another one some years later. That guy was full on nude. He needed a condom. I didn’t have any. That was the last black dick I ever saw. I was 18.

Corporate restrooms…. “Using them”

Originally written 12/3/14

Why not.
Observation.
Damn it.

So. I Went to the bathroom to pee. Just pee.

Grabbed a stall, thankfully someone was already using the urinal. “Using it”.

Corporate / Public restroom urinal description.
No privacy. Divider wall means nothing, definitely not a blatant reminder to stop looking around like there’s lost treasure. The damn thing is covered in so much pubic hair its like people deposit it there like there is some higher power asking for offerings…Sacrifices even, because no one, no damn body has that much to spare in the time needed to pee at this thing. Horrible. Puddles. Yeah “s”. Multiple puddles of pee underneath/directly in front of these damn things. Why. Why the hell. I like to think of people using urinals get just as excited to spin the wheel on the price is right. My favorite thing about my current buildings urinals is that there is no flushing, it just magically drains. But sometimes, sometimes it doesn’t. And people still use it. And that’s fantastically disgusting and mind boggling.

Anyway. I don’t use urinals. I have a long story, probably not that long, involving a truck stop in Arkansas as a kid, and that’s why I don’t use them. I should pen that soon.

Anyway.
After I pee’d, I left the stall. Went to the furious hand waving station. Yeeessss bang your hands around in to the faucet and granite counters trying to find that sensor that squeezes a teaspoon of water out and won’t turn back on for at least 5 seconds.
So much damn fury.
Damn automated faucets.

Anyway….

So really, what I wanted to talk about was. I saw a man go from one stall to another. The stall directly beside mine. And in to the stall I had just used. Pants held up with his hands. The door shut. He exclaimed “yeah there we go”, happily.
I love a good bathroom story. They always seem to confirm my worst fears. I don’t care for public restrooms. I don’t care for interacting with one another in said area, or really even near said area. A picture says a thousand words. But watching people do shit, quite possibly…literally….maybe…shit, in the bathroom just kills me on a daily basis.

Narnia. It’s tons of Narnia.