Thursday, September 16, 2010

This poo shall pass.

Warning: This post contains graphic depictions of potty business.

There comes a time in a man’s life when the call of nature is so strong that one must break free of any comfort zones and venture into the darkest of places: the public restroom. It’s a known fact that one must be cautious in these environments in order not to become diseased. However, the truth is that the entire process would be a lot easier and safer for all of us if everybody stopped being so stupid about it.

Consider this: How often is a public restroom cleaned? How often do you thoroughly clean YOUR bathroom? The first fact of the day is that a properly maintained public restroom is probably cleaner than its domestic counterpart. If you don’t trust the maintenance workers maybe it’s because you know you’d leave behind a mess that you wouldn’t clean up yourself even if you were paid to.

The first step for cleaner bathrooms would be for owners to provide sanitizing wipes rather than those waxed toilet seat liners. The only thing stupider than one of those is when someone uses toilet paper to line the seat. Then they proceed to bend the laws of physics in order to sit down without moving it. I guess they’re pretty confident that it won’t fall in the water and slowly wick the water towards their unsuspecting behinds. What makes them think these liners are sterile, anyway? Are they aware that after each and every flush there are hundreds of drops of toilet water splashed all over the stall (including the TP roll and that liner dispenser)? Of course, now that you're all done, the liner is too gross for you to dispose of properly. Hopefully it’ll eventually get tired of being there and hop into the toilet all by itself when you're not looking.

Then there are those who are way smarter than that, they know liners don’t work. Yep, I’m talking about those douchebags that will somehow get their #2 all over the place but the toilet to avoid sitting down. I guess they believe they can somehow aim their torpedoes from any distance. People who think like this should die of constipation. Think of the employee that is going to have to clean up after you! I swear if I ever find myself in that situation I will quit on the spot. Screw it.

Back to the TP subject, did you know this kind of tissue is designed to be water-soluble? What I’m trying to say is: you’re supposed to flush it (no, it’s not going to clog the toilet, and if it does, then the owner of the building should upgrade their plumbing)! Doesn’t depositing your poo in the garbage bin defeat the purpose of indoor plumbing? You might as well just go in the garbage bin!

I guess all of these principles apply to #1 as well. Even when there are urinals, there’s always the one shy dude that needs to lock up in case he breaks into dance (that would explain the mess) in the middle of his business.

In the end, it’s all a vicious cycle of people that make the bathroom scary because they’re scared of it. Think about it. Keep some sanitizing wipes with you and wash your hands thoroughly when you’re done. Simple.

Looks like I'm not the only one worried about this subject!

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Nine Eleven

I originally thought of tweeting this, but there are times when 140 characters are not even close.

It’s about the events that occurred in Tuesday September the 11th, 1979. A beautiful boy that would eventually be known as teh 201d was born that glorious day. I’m positively sure many people were also born that day and even more followed the next year, and the years after just like many will be born next Friday. I attribute this to it being nine months after the first week of December, when couples around the northern hemisphere find the lowered temperatures most opportune for cuddling.

Of course, that would only be important if you were me, which you’re not (because, clearly you are you). Nevertheless, there are also several momentous events linked to this date, for example, according to Wikipedia; Stephen Foster's well-known song, Oh! Susanna was first performed at a saloon in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in September 11, 1847. Is that neat or what? But let’s assume, for a moment, that you actually care about me. Let’s say you know me, even.

Why on earth would anyone approach me upon this date, with a comment about how my birthday is on “nine eleven?” I can’t possibly think of any reason for this except for being an evil, uncaring jerk… or perhaps… HA! That’s it! My friends and family are not evil; they just don’t realize the implications of such comments! Okay, then, what I’ll do is I will compile a list of phrases you “might as well say” (that way I won’t have to spend my 31st birthday hiding from the people I love)!

Things you might as well say:

  • I have brought you all the medicines I don’t need anymore for your birthday. Take them all with a tall glass of water and die quietly.
  • Wanna come over and burn some Qur’ans?
  • Why aren’t you watching the 24 hour special on TV today, you jerk?
  • The attacks did not happen on your 22nd birthday; you were born 22 years before the attacks, you evil terrorist!
  • Aren't you ashamed of having your birthday today?
  • Don’t you even care about the people who died?
  • Are you a terrorist?
  • Wanna come over and burn some Bibles?
  • What is wrong with you?
  • Admit it; you are happy all these people died!
  • Wanna come over and burn some people?
  • I hate you.
  • I poisoned your cake. You’re welcome.
  • Yo 201d, I'm really happy for you, I’m ‘a let you finish your birthday cake. But 9/11 is one of the worst days of all time! OF ALL TIME!

Every year on my birthday I can’t help remembering that day. I remember it like it was today. I would forget my anniversary or my kids’ birthdays if they were not recurring events in my calendar, and I may get their baby pictures mixed up, but this one I can’t forget. It was my 22nd birthday and I had taken the day off from work. I spent the whole day glued to the TV, shocked, hoping things would turn out alright and watching things get worse and worse. I called everyone I knew. I was lucky nobody I knew was there.

I don’t expect people to stop caring, but I would really, really like people to stop bringing me down in a day that’s already sad. It’s sad not only because of the memories, but because of the blatant bigotry that is launched year after year that only seems to worsen with time. I have been cursed by this even though I had nothing to do with it. One thing is not related to the other. There are 8,036 days and about 2,000 miles between one and the other. Please consider this. That would be the best birthday gift EVER.