Tag Archives: people are nasty

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.

My friends video taped me having sex.

Tried to. Kind of did. I didn’t want them to. They didn’t ask.

Back in high school, my parents went out of town. It was the end of the year. So I did what every high school kid that has a thirst to vicariously live like their lives are the movie can’t hardly wait…or MTV…or some shit.

Fuck that movie.

I had a party.

I wasn’t too awfully popular in high school. I had maybe 10 friends total. Maybe 2 that I actually hung out with outside of school hours… I invite my friends. And friends of friends are invited too.

I think I themed the party. The all American party. Because fuck terrorism or because team america or something.

Anyway.

My friend had this fake ID, think it was a new jersey ID…So we go and buy a comical amount of beers. Turns out to be exactly 200 beers. I think we got a bottle of jack and plastic bottle vodka…The finest aristocrat available.

I hate vodka. Mostly because I ruined it for myself that night by mixing it with blue PowerAde. Tastes awful.

Anyway.

People actually show up.

  • Creepy really old dude stranger no one knew, but had a cool camero.
  • Another creepier guy, that we knew, with 4 cases of Sams brand sodas. (Party?)
  • Cookie cutter college guy who kept telling us all how awesome his fraternity was.
  • Chick in caffeine’s that kept trying to do raving shit.
  • Guys with beards in all black that were in some shit metal band.

These people show up. Word got out?

Actual friends show up too, with more booze and god knows what else.

Good friend of mine decides this would be a great time to utilize his new sony super mega amazing nightshot video camera. Sure.

He documents the night.

We all start getting pretty amazing. I think I had a break dancing contest in the street, this one dude was running around in the hood screaming “all american, bomb iraq”…

Which was particularly fantastic because the hood we lived in was almost all folks from middle eastern type countries…

We get him back inside immediately. But not before walking past my girlfriend drunkenly being convinced to show everyone her tits. Pervy precursor.

But they video tape them this time. Her tits. Damn it…?

Inside…the fraternity guy…the Pi Kappa Alpha guy …Jacob?… Became incredibly drunk at some point, and began puking everywhere. Bad spaghetti puke. Bad bad puke food. We get him in to the bath room, where bomb iraq guy is already kind of asleep in the tub….but still conscious enough to keep hitting on the girl I was dating. He did that a lot, he made her a mixed tape once. That shits fucked up.

So we put Jacob in front of the potty.

Jacob starts looping, “ALL AMERCIAN”. Guy gets stuck on repeat. Between pukes. At one point falls asleep face on the toilet seat. Yikes.

This is all on tape.

Raver girl is now angry, because cookie cutter college pike guy is face down in the toilet. While talking her off the ledge of glowstick mountain, she convinces me to listen to raver music. Then she leaves. And leaves Jacob the pukey pike at my house.

I’m sitting there vortexing out of my mind on techno music.

Vortexing is a process in which you’re listening to boomy type musics, while observing repeating visual stimulation, like a disco ball…it’s a zoning out sort of thing. Booming, flashing, and drunk stuffs.

Anyway.

I get involved with activities with this girl I was dating. Closed door activities.

These dudes, my friends I guess, think it’d be awesome to just come in and video tape what happens during the course of the activities. It was mildly funny the first time, but an invasion of privacy and kind of fucked. The second time they unlocked the door with a skeleton key of sorts that one of the dudes had on his keychain, maybe because he’s a practiced deviant I dunno. Fucked. Not really sure how I found these people.

That second time they got a few half witted girls gone wild shots. Invasion of privacy. I’m not sure why they left the room. But they did.

Then the third time they attempted to portray their antics as a C.O.P.S esque, going after my own heart, but again invading my privacy with their weird pervy bullshit…They turn on the fancy night vision camera gizmo and try to video through the blinds of my bedroom window. But are quickly discouraged by how little they’re able to capture.

So I find out about this footage a few days later. From a friend who watched it in metal band dudes garage. Oh wait, his moms garage. Watching creepy pervo not even good not even porn in his moms garage. I guess I wasn’t immediately pissed, just mostly confused, definitely not happy. I didn’t see the pervy sexual deviancy benefit(s) of this video. Everything but the sex stuff was kind of hilarious though.

Well…Anyways…

Some years later before my wedding. As a wedding gift, my friend gave me what was to be the last copy of said tape. It doesn’t take a free readin’ from miss cleo to tell me several copies of this tape were made and maybe even still out there. He wasn’t too deeply involved in the pervery… I think he and his wife got us another gift too. Maybe mixing bowls.

How the fuck was this a wedding gift. Oh well.

Entitlement.

Deviants.

Whatever, fuck it.

Narnia.

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.