Friday, March 20, 2015

Watermelon anus?

This tip came in this morning from a faithful reader. It feels like important news to report.

This is what the future is going to be like friends: a world where you can make your dumps smell like anything you want. That's a world I WANT to live in.

Not sure if it's a pill or an attachment or what that gives you this super power, but sign Potty Blogger up for your beta test, please.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

What. The. Fuck.

Listen, this is a blog about toilets and bodily functions. We've seen some things. We've talked about stuff you probably wouldn't share at the dinner table. In fact, some days you can get a little jaded, thinking you've seen it all.

“Do I even have the capacity to be shocked anymore? a potty blogger thinks to himself.

And then...

Yesterday, I stumbled across a crime scene so hard to explain that it immediately slapped me back to the “ olden days of this blog. When coworkers seemed to go out of their way to find new and creative ways to soil the porcelain.

It was first floor mens room. (Yes, the one that no longer says “men on the outside of the door but, rather, sports a cheeky set of painted “two low balls to indicate “this one is for the fellas.)

I headed to the penthouse stall for a quiet sit when I pushed back the door and saw it.

“Is that a large, wet caterpillar that has just pushed out of its cocoon and crawled up on the seat?” is how my brain first tried to make sense of what it saw.

But it was no caterpillar.

And this was no in-the-bowl remnant. This was an honest-to-goodness, proud-as-a-peacock, sitting-smack-dab-on-the-seat turd.

Many questions flooded forward.

Was it coworkers silent protest? Or a cry for help?

Was it the rogue byproduct of an interviewee's nervous tummy?

And who, in god’s name, commits such a crime, stands, sees it and thinks, “Yeah, I’m just going to leave that there?”

Yes, I took a picture. (Mainly to confirm later that it was not some delirious fever dream, but that somebody actually left that baby on the shelf.) And the editorial staff here at 720-California-4th-floor-mens-room-dot-blogspot-dot-com debated long and hard about whether or not to include the photo along with this post.

But if we do that, the terrorist wins.

I don’t know who you are, first floor turd painter, but what you did was WRONG. This is not some art project and an office toilet seat is not a canvas for your fecal shenanigans.

Cut it out.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Cinnamon Urinal Cake

Hello, innovation!

The mens rooms at 720 California are enjoying a sweet new smell this week. Cinnamon urinal cakes.

It's like peeing into a bowl of Red Hots! So satisfying.

But be careful, men. For those of you who are more generously endowed, don't let your equipment dip down and make contact. Nobody wants a stick of Big Red in their urethra. (Trust me on this one.)

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!

It's been a long, long time since potty blogger has written, dear readers.

So long that I began to wonder if anything would make me take up my pen again. Writing about the dumps of co-workers is a one-way ticket to jaded-ville, friends. Once you've seen the after effects of somebody shooting from their northern anus, nothing really shocks or inspires anymore.

But something wonderful has happened on 3rd floor.

Somebody has introduced a squatty potty to the stall of last resort.

Let me repeat that: a co-worker has purchased a piece of equipment designed to help open his colon and then left that piece of equipment permanently in place for all of his co-workers to also use and enjoy.

That guy for president of the world!

Thank you for your gift. Thank you for giving me a reason to write again. But most of all, thank you for giving my poops a silky smooth road home.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Soft launch

Yes, potty blogger is back to the important work of chronicling the poopin' and peein' of 720 California. But I return to this forum without fanfare. One long-time reader recently asked if there would be some sort of party to celebrate this blog's return.

No, there will not.

This is a soft launch. (Not to be confused with a particular type of loose stool that is known in some circles at "soft launch.") I am quietly re-acquainting myself with the sites and smells of this fine set of rest rooms.

Emphasis on the "quietly."

Just as the first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club, the first rule of is you do not approach potty blogger in a crowded office hallway and ask him if he's "seen the shit stain on four." 

And while an eye witness report that "there's a particularly gruesome deuce in the second floor Peter Brady stall" IS valuable information, that information is less welcome while potty blogger is in the middle of a conversation with his boss.

In other words: a little decorum, people. Keep those tips coming, but consider picking an appropriate moment. Lowering your voice. Or maybe an email? 

The illustration that accompanies this entry is from a long-time reader who suggested that the blog may want to consider a "kids corner" in the future. It's a wonderful suggestion and I will run by my editorial board. But in the meantime, I see nothing childish about a pencil taking a dump, so I share it with you, my mature adult readership.

Finally, another long-time reader confessed that she lost a SECOND iPhone to the toilets of 720 today. (Words with Friends is worse than heroin, friends. There are risks.)

I, for one, am proud to live in a world where I can play "JOY" for 34 points WHILE voiding myself at the same time. And if you have to replace a $500 phone every now and then for the privilege, so be it.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Hot water hosanna!

The mule train arrived from Tennessee and the new hot water heater is here!

That's right, friends...the fecal matter you've been carrying around underneath your fingernails for the last month can finally get a hot sanitary wash. (Although, there is a report that the new heater's, er, "pumper" may not be strong enough to get the hot stuff up to six. Which is a problem that older gentlemen water heaters have and it does not make them any less of a man water heater.)

But if you're on E, 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5, scrub 'em good, co-workers!

While "Hot Water Watch" comes to an end, "6th Floor Big Boy Urinal Watch" is now in it's fourth day.

On Friday, somebody put up a very nice sign indicating that 6th floor fellas should take their stand up business elsewhere. The sign is still up late on Monday, so I suspect 6th floor-ers may want to get used to the idea that the man-height plumbing will be out of commission for a while.

You know what they say: when god delivers a water heater he also breaks a urinal.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Your paper tongue says you hate me

Popped in to Second Floor Men's Room this afternoon to conduct some sit-down business. Made my way to the penthouse stall...and was confronted with an all-too familiar scene: a paper seat cover, sticking up out of a bowl full o' the yellow stuff, leering at me like an outstretched paper tongue.


Perpetrator, I have a hard time wrapping my brain around your psychology.

First, as evidence suggests, you sat down to conduct non-sit-down business. That's not a crime; we've all had the experience of warming up the kitchen appliances, thinking it was time to make pasta and then discovering that it was really more of a SodaStream afternoon.

And you're clearly not a barbarian since you used a seat cover.

So why would you stand, scoot the backside of your seat cover into your consommé, and then walk out without a flush?

The .08 seconds that a flush requires is a small way of saying, "I don't hate the poor sap who may wander in after me."

Why do you hate me? Why do you hate all of us? Do you need a hug?

Stick that paper tongue back into the mouth of hell and that the foul mouth swallows the tongue and...

OK, so the analogy breaks down at some point. Just flush next time, will ya?