Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Some suggestions

There are certain occupational hazards that come with potty blogging.

For example, it forces you to pay attention to some pretty gruesome crime scenes. Do I want to look into a bowl that looks like it hasn’t been flushed since 2008? No. But if I don’t look into that abyss, who will tell the tale?

One unfortunate side effects of the blog is that a certain number of loyal readers have discovered my true identity are constantly suggesting topics.

“There’s a major deuce in the handicap stall. You should check it out.”

“You gonna do an entry about the super dark pee on three?”

“Yesterday, guy in the stall next to me muttered ‘help me’ while squeezin’ one out. I can give you his name if you want to write about it.”

These are all wonderful suggestions. Thank you. It’s gratifying to know that so many share my passion for the pageantry of our restrooms. But perhaps shouting ideas across a crowded office is not the best venue for an editorial pitch.

Let me introduce you to the comment section on this blog. Think if it as your tip line. You can post anonymously and I read all of them.

While we’re on the topic of suggestions, let me make one myself: wash your hands, men.

Today, I saw a colleague--somebody whom I respected--finish his business and head straight for the door.

Now, I’ve heard all the excuses, the most common one being: “I just went number one and only touched my front. If I washed my hands every time I touched Mr. Lincoln, I’d be at the sink all day.”

Men, making a number one is not a free pass from hand washing. If you’ve done anything in the men’s room, let a session at the sink be your final act. They put the basins by the door for a reason: to remind you that you should use them on your way out.

As for my disgusting colleague, who shall remain nameless, I shamed him into washing his hands. This time. But I am not on patrol 24/7. You have to police yourselves, men.

Let’s be careful out there.


  1. Dear PB,
    I'm all for water conservation, but is asking folks for the occasional flush to the manual flush urinals too much to ask? It perfumes the entire men's room like a homeless man in the gym lockers of a dive bar in mexico. And on the weekends it percolates even more until the cleaning folks come by to save us.

  2. Amen, KL. I wrote about this disturbing phenomenon before.


    You need to use your hands, fellas.