Thursday, August 30, 2007

Pooping in Public

Trying to defecate in a public restroom has always been stressful.

There are few things a man will do in his lifetime that place him in as vulnerable a position in public: seated, pants down, mere feet away from total strangers, knowing that he really needs to go and hoping that his sphincter will relax just long enough to accomplish the mission.

Is the seat clean? Am I going to, however innocently, splash my pants and have to rejoin the non-bathroom-using public looking like I’ve just wet myself? Is there enough paper? Is the paper 600 grit or 60? Will some knuckle dragger mistake the closed and locked stall as being vacant, and begin violently pulling on the door to gain access? Clang! Clang! Clang! CLANG! Clanging away until enough current trickles across the right synapse to signal that the reason it won’t open is because the stall is occupied?

This wasn’t stressful enough? Now you’re telling me that on top of all this I HAVE TO MAKE GODDAMN CERTAIN THAT MY FEET REMAIN ABSOLUTELY MOTIONLESS, SO NOBODY MISTAKENLY THINKS I’M SOLICITING SEXUAL ACTIVITY?

Seriously? I can’t shit without making sure I sit there like a statue?

JUST WHO THE HELL THOUGHT OF THIS FORM OF COMMUNICATION, ANYWAY? (You would think that the proliferation of iPods among the pooping-in-public-but-not-gay-sex-seeking male population would have rendered this signaling system difficult, if not impossible, to continue to use reliably.)

Regardless, what’s next? I can’t sneeze in public, without learning that I’ve just signaled my willingness to midget wrestle? Can’t tug my ear without getting slapped with a copyright infringement suit in federal court? Can’t… well, you get the idea.

This is great. Just terrific. I guess from now on I’ll have to sneak into the ladies’ room to poop.

Your obedient servant,
B. Freret

1 comment:

Boski93 said...

Billiant as always sir.

Your Humble Reader