Another installment of ...
STALL WARS: REVENGE OF THE SHIT
[This actually happened two days ago. I wrote it at the time, but well, you know how I am.]
Why is it that I find it so easy to talk about taking a dump, while everything else I write never seems to come to fruition? I guess it is a great mystery of our times, (or not). Anyways, on to the newest episode:
Once again, I had to take a serious crap. Not the squeezing out of a Lincoln Log, but instead, the nasty Ebola kind. You know, it feels like you're shitting out your guts a little at a time. The painful variation of "mud butt". And on top of that, I was wondering what the last spicy thing I ate was. Explosive, painful, nasty, burning defecation, (guess I need more fiber, and less dairy, coffee, and spicy food). The kind of shit that deserves some privacy, (if only out of concern for others).
Guess what? I didn't get it.
I went down to the other floor I used to use a lot, because it was usually empty. It hasn't been that way in a while, but I can't seem to get that through my head. I keep foolishly hoping for some sanctuary, to no avail. If you guessed it was ocupado today, you guessed right.
So I come back up, and check my floor. Someone is there, of course. So I go back to my office, and suffer. Not because I was unnaturally holding back the mud slide with all my might. It was just so bad, the kind that makes you think you will grow a new asshole from your belly button and fart. If only that were so. I could hold out, but whether I would be in my office or a stall, I'd feel the same pain.
Thankfully, the pain passed. However, now things were feeling more urgent. So I get up and go to my floors restroom again. It has been fifteen minutes, and the same guy is in there. It's the same stall, and given some basic criteria, it's safe to assume it is the same person.
Thankfully, it sounded like he was wrapping up. So I go to a urinal, half because maybe peeing might help the urgency, and half to give me a convenient excuse to wait for a minute or so until the guy leaves.
It seemed to take much longer. What I hear when I came in sounded like someone pulling their pants up, or tucking there shirt in. But then it stops, and starts again. I started think the motherfucker was trying on clothes or something! Finally, the sound is interrupted by zipping. "Thank god," I think. Nope, more rustling. Shit, he IS trying on clothes!
The door finally opens, and I realize what caused the sound. The guy's shirt was either brand new, or the dry cleaners put an insane amount of starch on it. If he sneezed, it would sound like a newspaper blowing in the wind!
Of course, he takes fucking forever to wash his hands. You'd think he was scrubbing up for surgery! I would just go ahead and let lose, but I don't even approach the stall. I know, I'm weird, but I just have a hard time expelling my bowels around people I work around on a day to day basis. It's usually better when no one sees me, and I'm already in the stall. I'm just self-conscious, and taking a dump is a pretty private thing to me. Farting in public, especially in a profession environment, is a bad thing, but then I'm suppose to go in the bathroom and let loose in front of these very same people? Just seems odd to me.
So I finally settle down, and boy is it a bad one. People come and go, no big deal. Most of the worst part is done by then. Then I hear my boss's boss come in. He's talking to someone, and then one takes a piss, and the other sits in the stall next to me. I have a good idea the person taking a crap next to me was my boss's boss. Great.
Not too "vocal", thankfully. No grunting or moaning like he was giving birth to a brown baby boy, and minimal ass trumpet. By this time, I am trying to wrap things up, when another person comes in and sits in the other stall. The dreaded flatulence in stereo.
I guess some people don't mind the company, don't mind the chorus. I sure as hell have a problem with one other person being there, and I can't imagine hunkering down when there are two, especially, when there are only three stalls! I guess I should be glad there aren't more stalls, I'd probably choke to death. Seriously, what the hell is everyone eating on my floor!? I wouldn't be suprised if someone has tried to take a crap in a urinal before! And for god sake, what's the deal with all the "floaters" I come across!? The toilets flush themselves, is someone doing it on purpose? Are they trying to age the shit like cheese? And for what purpose?
Hmm...
I'm finally out of there, in the nick of time, before the third one really gets going. I wish the bathrooms were designed with more privacy in mind. Hell, gas stations are nasty, but at least you usually have privacy! Man, I wish there was a gas station or something around where I work, but no such luck.
Needless to say, another day, another shitty experience.
[This actually happened two days ago. I wrote it at the time, but well, you know how I am.]
Why is it that I find it so easy to talk about taking a dump, while everything else I write never seems to come to fruition? I guess it is a great mystery of our times, (or not). Anyways, on to the newest episode:
Once again, I had to take a serious crap. Not the squeezing out of a Lincoln Log, but instead, the nasty Ebola kind. You know, it feels like you're shitting out your guts a little at a time. The painful variation of "mud butt". And on top of that, I was wondering what the last spicy thing I ate was. Explosive, painful, nasty, burning defecation, (guess I need more fiber, and less dairy, coffee, and spicy food). The kind of shit that deserves some privacy, (if only out of concern for others).
Guess what? I didn't get it.
I went down to the other floor I used to use a lot, because it was usually empty. It hasn't been that way in a while, but I can't seem to get that through my head. I keep foolishly hoping for some sanctuary, to no avail. If you guessed it was ocupado today, you guessed right.
So I come back up, and check my floor. Someone is there, of course. So I go back to my office, and suffer. Not because I was unnaturally holding back the mud slide with all my might. It was just so bad, the kind that makes you think you will grow a new asshole from your belly button and fart. If only that were so. I could hold out, but whether I would be in my office or a stall, I'd feel the same pain.
Thankfully, the pain passed. However, now things were feeling more urgent. So I get up and go to my floors restroom again. It has been fifteen minutes, and the same guy is in there. It's the same stall, and given some basic criteria, it's safe to assume it is the same person.
Thankfully, it sounded like he was wrapping up. So I go to a urinal, half because maybe peeing might help the urgency, and half to give me a convenient excuse to wait for a minute or so until the guy leaves.
It seemed to take much longer. What I hear when I came in sounded like someone pulling their pants up, or tucking there shirt in. But then it stops, and starts again. I started think the motherfucker was trying on clothes or something! Finally, the sound is interrupted by zipping. "Thank god," I think. Nope, more rustling. Shit, he IS trying on clothes!
The door finally opens, and I realize what caused the sound. The guy's shirt was either brand new, or the dry cleaners put an insane amount of starch on it. If he sneezed, it would sound like a newspaper blowing in the wind!
Of course, he takes fucking forever to wash his hands. You'd think he was scrubbing up for surgery! I would just go ahead and let lose, but I don't even approach the stall. I know, I'm weird, but I just have a hard time expelling my bowels around people I work around on a day to day basis. It's usually better when no one sees me, and I'm already in the stall. I'm just self-conscious, and taking a dump is a pretty private thing to me. Farting in public, especially in a profession environment, is a bad thing, but then I'm suppose to go in the bathroom and let loose in front of these very same people? Just seems odd to me.
So I finally settle down, and boy is it a bad one. People come and go, no big deal. Most of the worst part is done by then. Then I hear my boss's boss come in. He's talking to someone, and then one takes a piss, and the other sits in the stall next to me. I have a good idea the person taking a crap next to me was my boss's boss. Great.
Not too "vocal", thankfully. No grunting or moaning like he was giving birth to a brown baby boy, and minimal ass trumpet. By this time, I am trying to wrap things up, when another person comes in and sits in the other stall. The dreaded flatulence in stereo.
I guess some people don't mind the company, don't mind the chorus. I sure as hell have a problem with one other person being there, and I can't imagine hunkering down when there are two, especially, when there are only three stalls! I guess I should be glad there aren't more stalls, I'd probably choke to death. Seriously, what the hell is everyone eating on my floor!? I wouldn't be suprised if someone has tried to take a crap in a urinal before! And for god sake, what's the deal with all the "floaters" I come across!? The toilets flush themselves, is someone doing it on purpose? Are they trying to age the shit like cheese? And for what purpose?
Hmm...
I'm finally out of there, in the nick of time, before the third one really gets going. I wish the bathrooms were designed with more privacy in mind. Hell, gas stations are nasty, but at least you usually have privacy! Man, I wish there was a gas station or something around where I work, but no such luck.
Needless to say, another day, another shitty experience.
posted by Buddha Bubba at 9:29 AM
1 Comments:
I try to think of words to say how very well you expressed yourself on a _____ subject. Supply your own word; I can't think - my mind being filled with your well written images. I got to go now. lol Rosie
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