Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before

Tuesday, July 17, 2007


Let me tell you about the fourth stall in the bathroom at work. People enjoy it, because it is the farthest away from the door. You know, so it feels the most private. Well, lately it has become fairly disgusting.

First, someone wrote on the wall a few weeks ago. I am all for writing on walls at bars because it amuses me when I am drunk. It can be funny. But I don't want the bathroom that I use at work to turn into a bar bathroom. Bar bathrooms are tolerable because they are at bars and you are drunk. Work bathrooms are tolerable because you can hide in there from work and catch up on your text messaging and Tetris.

Anyway, someone wrote on the wall, "What country is this?" And below that is a "drawing" which is basically a very uneven decagon. Maybe about two inches by two inches. I know geography fairly well and I am pretty sure this is not a rendering of any country. It's just some hoodlum that wants to get a dialogue going on the crapper. So his question goes unanswered for a few weeks, but then the other day, an answer!

Beneath the question "What country is this?" now reads, "Yourbuttistan?"

Now, it is written as a question, as if this person is taking a guess. But if you look at it, the handwriting is exactly the same. So my conclusion is that the question asker went into the bathroom every day to see if anyone answered. After going a few weeks with no response, he decided to make it seem as if someone else is actually playing along.

After such a long wait, I was hoping for a better answer. Actually, it's not the answer that bugs me so much. It's the drawing. If it resembled a butt, I would maybe giggle at it. If maybe he drew a butt with a terrorist sticking a piece of dynamite in the butt crack, then I would laugh.

Oh well.

So that's not so bad, you say. Only one dude writing an innocuous joke. I would agree with you. But recently, maybe two weeks ago, something else started happening in everyone's favorite poop stall. I walked in there one day and the toilet seat is covered in pubes. I mean, not the random two or three that can show up on a toilet seat or on envelopes. I am talking ten pubes. Someone had to make an effort of walking into the stall, sticking their hand down their pants, then proceed to rake their nethers. Then, not place them in the toilet to flush them, but place them all around the toilet seat as if they are a chef sprinkling garnish on a plate.

I have seen this twice. Meaning more than once. This is just crazy. If you work with me, please pay attention. If anyone sits near you, then all of the sudden is like, "Oh my god, I have so many pubes! Too many, in fact!" Then they get up and go to the bathroom and then they come back and they are like, "There. Not as many pubes as before." If you hear that, I think we have our man!

We get about an email a week about how the kitchen is always a mess and people need to clean up after themselves. I am going to start my own, "hey, don't forget to flush your pubes" email.

Apparently, I work in a frat house. It's gross. But at least it's not some third world country, like Yourbuttistan. Oh, I didn't even mention all of the boogers on the wall. Yeah, boogers! Fucking everywhere.

Boogers and pubes. That would be a good cartoon for Adult Swim. Boogers and Pubes. They would fight crime, but no one would ever congratulate them because no one wants to shake hands with a pube or hug a booger.
All material © Mike Toole; 2003 - 2006