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?

Friday, February 22, 2013

Two hobos

Just overheard two hobos arguing outside of 720 California. First hobo suggests they go inside and ask the security guard if they can use the bathroom. Second hobo says, "They don't even have hot water in the bathrooms right now. THAT'S nasty."

Amen, well-informed hobo. Amen.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

If we were a hospital, they'd have shut us down a week ago

OK. I get it. We're not doing brain surgery here.

But 10 days and counting with no hot water in the rest rooms? That ain't exactly a recipe for health.

We may not be at CONTAGION levels quite yet, but I did see a dude today who I thought just had hairy hands, but on closer inspection, the hair looked a little green and I thought, "that might just be a fungus crust."

Apparently the only water heater IN AMERICA that can supply this fine facility with hot water is still making its way here from Tennessee.

In the meantime, I urge you to completely wrap your hands in seat covers before conducting ANY business (yes, even business of a #1 variety.) The life you save could be your own.


Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Good morning, norovirus!

The first all-agency email of the day?

good morning.
hot water is off in all the bathroom sinks at 720.   kitchens and shower are still good to go.
we should be back online as early as tomorrow.
sorry for any inconvenience.

Yeah, hot water in the bathroom probably isn't all that important, is it? And directing people to rinse the urine and fecal residue off in the kitchen sink, a mere inches away from the surface where you'll be slathering up that peanut butter sandwich? That seems like a wonderful idea!

I've missed this level of hygiene.

Today, potty blogger will be washing his hands in the e-level shower, friends. 

Friday, February 8, 2013

Return to the throne

Yes, the rumors are true. Potty blogger is back in the building.

What’s truly wonderful about spending some time away from the bathrooms of 720 California is that when you return, you see them with fresh eyes.

And smell them with fresh nostrils.

Which brings me to my list of “The Top 3 Things That Surprised Me About Returning to the 4th Floor Men’s Room at 720 California.”

1. The New Smell of Freshness

There’s a whole new aroma bouquet up in this joint. In the last year, cans of Febreze have appeared on the bathroom counters (you can smell the cancer in the air!) and it’s clear that more than one person in the building is spritzing with abandon.

But the big upgrade are the lime green urinal splash guards that smell as if they were marinated in my grandmother’s potpourri bowl. They are so over powering that my knees buckled a bit while conducting some #1 business earlier this week.

My nose thanks you for the “progress.”

2. Clean Yo Shit Up

When a problem rises to the level of “I better get my ass to the trophy shop and have a sign made,” you know a line has been crossed.

I can only imagine how bad the stack of crumbled paper towels must have gotten to force the company to invest in these counter-top engravings.

The lack of capitalization and punctuation leaves me a little confused as how to read. Right now, it reads like a kid with turrets who doesn’t really want to yell at you and smiles a lot so he doesn’t seem like a dick…but he’s still kind of a dick.

3. Butthole-In-The-Middle-Of-His-Back Still Works Here 

I’m not sure if this is a source of comfort or horror.

For those of you who may not be familiar with this particular character, he is Potty Blogger’s Moby Dick--a pooping nemesis that did such unspeakable work, that he became a minor fascination.

His signature is a splatter pattern that suggests a physiology very different from you and I. While have never seen the creature in the wild, inspection of the evidence suggests that this man’s butthole is the middle of the back. It’s the only explanation for some of the things that I’ve seen.

There’s been quite a bit of turnover in the past 18 months at 720 California, so I assumed that this pooping-unicorn had probably moved on.

But yesterday, the third floor penthouse stall proved otherwise.

It's nice to know that the men's rooms of 720 California still have the power to shock.