Children's Toy

While on a family trip a few years ago, I had to share a hotel room with my Uncle Dave.  You need a little back story on my Uncle Dave.  He is one of the funniest and most eccentric people I know.  I could spend an entire day describing all of the odd things he has done.  Just at meals.  For instance, he eats kiwis like they were apples.  Bites right through the teenage "my first beard hair" skin and all (it makes me shudder just thinking about it).  He eats french fries.  Everyone does.  What's so weird you say? Well, he does not eat the whole fry.  He eats up to the end of the fry and leaves the part that he was holding onto.  By the end of a meal, there is a whole pile of discarded fry ends on his plate.

Anyway, back to the story.  

After a long day of driving, we finally made it into our room.  He quickly raced into bathroom.  After quite a while, he came out and said that we had a problem.  Whatever is he talking about I thought to myself.  I hope he isn't talking bout what I think he is.  Oh man, he's gotta be just joking.

"Well.....the toilet here couldn't handle me." And without any hesitation, Uncle Dave picked up the phone and dialed the front desk.  As he explained the situation, in a little more detail than was necessary, I thought to myself, "Yup, this is gonna be fun."

After a little while, an attendant from the hotel showed up, plunger in hand and smile on face (though I am pretty sure it was an "eff you" smile,).

"Right this way." Uncle Dave showed him into the bathroom, as if the guy couldn't figure out where the bathroom was in his own hotel (even then, what is there? a bed and a bathroom?).  After a few quick strokes, the toilet was free to resume its regular duties (haha get it? ohhh potty humor).

As Uncle Dave and the now not smiling hotel attendant came out of the bathroom, my uncle said something that has stuck with me for many years now. With a shit-eating grin on his face, as if it was some consolation to a man that just had to plunge a toilet in front of the offending party, he said:

"Well.  At least the Lincoln Logs went the other way."  

Yeah.

Lincoln Logs.

Real Estate

These days every blank space must be covered in advertising.  Why should the bathroom be any different?

Ads placed above urinals? Why not.

Ads in the urinal? Sure.

It makes sense, you do not have any choice but to look at it.  Unless you like checkin out other penises (or is it peni?).  I miss the days of the ol' newspaper above the urinal.  I really dug that.  I mean it totally classes up the joint when there is a big old framed front page of the Wall Street Journal hanging above the urinal.

Ohhh man! The ultimate is the TV above the urinal.  How bout being at the game and needing to expel some urine. What?! And miss the game?!  Not anymore.

Google History. Take notes.

This has very little to do with the potty.  But thought it was important enough to share.  Word of Advice: When at work, please take note that Google saves searches.  This means that with a simple button click, everyone can see what you have been looking up.  It seems simple enough.  The following is not made up.  And Ohhhhh how I wish it was.  Damn you true life.  Okay enough stalling.  Ready?

"Why is my vagina burning and itching?"

Seriously?!  I told you.  Okay.  Okay.  First, Google isn't Ask Jeeves.  Remember him?  Type in a question and he will answer.  Didn't last.  This is the 20 teens (or what ever we are gonna call it.  Have we decided? The tens? I already miss the aughts.), I am pretty sure that the Goog doesn't need proper English or for that matter a whole question, complete with a question mark, to give you what you need.  We don't have time for whole sentences.  A few key words is all it takes.  Vagina Burning Itching.

Second, what the H. E. Double L are you thinking?! Please do not look this up at work.   I am gonna say it again, it is that important.  Do NOT look up sexual problems at work.  I do not leave Google landmines like "balls growth unusual" or "possible transmit std horse" just lying around for you.  Please respect your co-workers unnamed google searcher.

Thank you.

MultiTasking

So I walk into the bathroom.  I go up to my* urinal and start my bidness.  Behind me I hear a guy in a stall.  He is obviously number two-ing cause he is soo not trying to disguise his thunderous farts.  This, in itself, is not that big of a deal.  I mean, how unsatisfying is a dook without a good fart or two?  Nothing unusual.  No, what makes this unusual is what he was doing in addition to crapping.  I could hear the rustling of paper.  He was reading a newspaper.  Once again, no big deal.  Sitting on the throne and reading go hand in hand.  Although, the magazine or newspaper has been quickly replaced by the phone.  Phone-ing while poo-ing is all the rage.  Who doesn't text or look up sports scores? Which is exactly what he was doing, phone-ing.  But he was not surfing, he was talking on it (oh how I hope he was using a bluetooth).  And after hearing what he was talking about, I realized he was not reading a paper.  He was doing homework!

Okay.  Recap.  Talking on the phone.  Doing homework.  AND taking a crap.  All that was missing was the courtesy flush (and he soooo needed one).  Dude.  I understand we all have a lot going on these days and can't waste any precious time.  But you gotta draw the line.  Pooping is MY time.  There is absolutely no homework that is so important, that I need to get phone help with it, while intermittently inserting a grunt and occasional fart.

Gross.  Gross on so many levels.  The teacher is going to have to grade a poo paper.  The person on the other end of the phone getting farts and grunts.  The person who is going to use his book in the future.  His phone.  Its needs a good wipedown.  And me.  Dude.  I don't wanna hear any of that.  It makes me not wanna touch anything!  Hope he washed his hands.


*I will address my in the future.  Also, I am quite fond of the asterisk (I know. Don't you pronounce it asterick?  Yeah sure.  Too bad there's another es in it.  But who's counting?  I will address that another day too).

Public Toilet Seats

You know those tissue paper sheets in the box above the public toilet?  They are provided so you do not have to put your butt directly on a toilet seat covered with who knows what?  Somehow tissue paper will block all the funk and make everything better (not to say that I don't use them. because I use em!).  My friend has a great name for them.  Paper Ass Gaskets.  Yeah.  Paper Ass Gaskets.  Such a great and simple name (did he make it up? Doubt it. http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=paper%20ass%20gasket).  But I often find myself saying it, just to say it and giggle.

Paper Ass Gasket.