Friday, February 25, 2011

Front loader

Over the years, the men’s restrooms at 720 California have been home to the mysterious (the backpack that was not a backpack), the confusing (where is that guy’s anus?), and the assaultive (a smell you can see.)

In this game you can become jaded. There’s a temptation to think that you’ve seen it all.

But then, mankind surprises you.

Apparently, one of my co-workers can crap out of his wang.

That’s the only way I can make sense of doo-doo on the front lip and underside of the toilet seat.

Yes, we have seen evidence on the front half of the bowl before. In that instance, our intrepid readers helpfully suggested that the culprit probably pulled a “reverse cowgirl” on it.

But this is something else all together.

This seems to be the work of a high-pressure nozzle producing a continuous stream. That stream then meandered up the front edge of the bowl, under the lip of the seat, and then burst forth with a final frosting on the top of the rim.

In other words, this guy seems to be able barf caca out of his penis.

We are through the looking glass, friends. I have no words of advice how to live in this brave new world.

There is a front loader among us. All hail, front loader.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Hello, Peeper

When conducting your #2 business at work, what is the one article of faith? The thing that you can count on unequivocally?

Is it, "While I'm sitting here expelling solid waste from my body, I can be reasonably sure that the walls will not open up next to me so that some stranger is eye level with my bare ass cheeks."

Well, you would be wrong.

Twice. TWICE in the last month, I have been in the penthouse stall, minding my own business (literally) when the toilet paper dispenser next to me SWUNG OPEN at the aforementioned ass level so that some unseen janitorial hand could replace the toilet paper.

And on one such occasion, the peeper also got a pretty good look at my tiles in a Words with Friends game I was working on. (This is safe zone, friends. No judgment for multi-taskers.)

So beware, friends. The very WALLS are not to be trusted. Privacy is dead.

Either my company employs a guy that can create the brownest, thickest lougies ever made...

or else somebody took a dump in the big boy urinal on three.