Archive for the ‘Bathroom Etiquette’ category

You’re the Worst Type of Asshole

August 29, 2009

Piss on the toilet seat…not an uncommon occurrence as far as mens rooms go. But when you take your sorry, limp-dicked ass to a stall when there are urinals to choose from, don’t be a dick and lift the seat like your whore of a mother [should have] taught you! On top of that, you don’t have the forethought to just piss on top of the seat if you couldn’t hold it. Nor did you have the common fucking courtesy to wipe it the hell off. Instead you pissed under and around the seat, on the floor, and all over the top and side of the damn bowl…fucking everywhere except the fucking industrial sized mixing bowl filled with water under your minuscule baby dick.

Did your BlackBerry start vibrating and throw off your concentration? Did you forget to unzip your pants? Even if that was the case, it’s still a shitty excuse in a pissy situation. Maybe I’m in a rush to send pictures of my shit to a feces fetish forum or take a nap on the shitter or check my favorite gossip blogs when I go to the porcelain throne. What I’m not in a fucking rush to do is play a rousing game of ‘clean your trifling ass coworker’s piss off of the entire toilet in the King stall [handicapped stalls because they’re huge]’. How about you save me some me the blood pressure points and yourself the ass whoopin you got comin if I ever find out who you are [no homo]!


Surprise! It’s Someone Else’s Shit!

July 24, 2009

Have you ever gone to the bathroom with thoughts of a productive pooping session that gets shattered the moment you realize that you’ve been made an honorary janitor by the asshole that last used the can?  Of course, you have!  This is especially true when you’ve already dotted the ass end of your underwear with your poo quill.  Then, you’re forced to go through the laborious task of using single-ply toilet paper to sterilize a toilet like you’re the monkey cage cleaner at a zoo.  Then, you have people looking at you all crazy when you get back to your desk because you’ve been gone so long.  A productive poo down that includes everything from sending Facebook birthday wishes, updating twitter, texting the person you’re cheating with…whatever.  That all only takes about 20 minutes.  But if you’re not back for 45 because you had to grab a fucking Tyvek suit and rubber gloves, then you look like the perv that can’t wait to get home, or at least to the parking lot, to rub one out.  So, give me a break, you lazy chutney, chili, curry, carne esada, and chili cheeseburger eating fucks!  Clean the toilet so I don’t have to clean your doo doo residue with single-ply.  How do you not see that?!?!  What the fuck?  Seriously…what the fuck?

Pick That Shit Up!

June 5, 2009

Hey Mr. Man with the Wall Street Journal or New York Times in the bathroom.  What the fuck is goin’ on, buddy? You too good for the internet? Of course, the answer is ‘no’. Own a PDA and just don’t know how to work it?  If so, go get a prepaid cell and give that shit to your kid. He may stop calling you a dick behind your back.  Scared your boss will see you checking stock quotes or keeping up with current affairs?  Threaten him with a sexual harassment lawsuit in a one-on-one meeting.

I know! You still have a fantasy about being an animal, an animal who’s owner is so cheap they use newspaper to line the cage!  Well, grow the fuck up. I don’t want to feel like I’m in a hamster cage every time I take a shit at work.  And how come you never, ever, ever take the fucking paper with you? No one wants to read anything covered in your ball skin with the stench of digested Indian food all over it that’s been on a semi-public bathroom floor.  I’d rather go down on Rosie O’Donnell.  It’s bad enough you didn’t flush the damn toilet to make your “cage” look more realistic. Fuck it. I’m buying Depends from now on.  You people make me sick!

Catch Me at The Watercooler

April 24, 2009

urinal-yes-noHey Corey the Conversation King, zip your trap before I pee on your shoes.  At no point in the future do I need to recall hearing your voice while my junk was out.  Whatever you’re yappin about is of no consequence unless it involves fire or a ridiculous sum of money you deposited in my bank account.  And since my mother was a master of not raising morons, I know it’s none of the above.

Maybe you feel I can’t avoid the conversation if I’m already occupied.  You couldn’t be more wrong.  How about I avoid your ass by filing a sexual harassment suit faster than a temp with an associates degree?  Would that shut you up?  I don’t care what you shot at the golf course or how well your kids speak Mandarin.  So, do me and the people in the stalls a favor and save it for the water cooler.

Time and Place – I

April 23, 2009

camera phoneIf your parents never explained to you the proper time and place for certain behavior, I’ll be dedicating some time to the subject from time to time.  As you’re  beginning to notice, there are and will continue to be plenty of posts regarding bathroom etiquette.  A perfect example of the improper time and place to use a camera phone is in a stall at work unless you are having sex with a hot coworker.  Any other time, this shit should be punishable by 100 hours community service and a gorilla shit pie to the face.  I’m not saying that taking pictures of the weird growth on your junk should be outlawed, but because of the peeping Tom problem, all cell phones made after a certain date are required to make a noise when pictures are taken.  So, hearing a monkey mating call, duck quack, or robot fart while I’m taking a shit is not only an immediate cue that the person a few stalls down might have VD, it’s also a concentration breaker!  So, thanks asshole.  I’ll be constipated another week because your squirrel giggle sound effect scared my shit back into its den.

Ocupado, Bitch!

April 22, 2009

As if the fact that the door is closed and my feet are in plain sight isn’t enough, some douche bag tried to open the door to my stall in the middle me executing an intricate poop extraction technique.  Needless to say, I was more than a little incensed and, had I not been at my place of work, probably Ocupadowould have opened the door and had some choice words to share.  I’m thinking it would have been something along the lines of: “If you’re giving out handjobs or something for extra cash, I’m not fucking interested.  Try two stalls down.”

I can’t be the only person that’s been interrupted in the middle of wiping my butt, but it’s always pretty jarring surprising.  A knock on the door, a cell phone going off at a critical moment during your sequence; any of these is enough to give you pause.  But nothing is quite as annoying as Michael Myers’ idiot third cousin not getting the fucking clue that someone is using the stall you’re in.  Stop jiggling the handle and knocking on the door, jackass.  We’re not in a scary movie…unless I ate Taco Bell the night before.  Either way, take it down a stall or two, Jack the Shitter.


April 15, 2009

ATTENTION!  This message is addressed to all men over the age of 6 years old that no longer require diapers.  When using urinals in bathrooms labeled ‘MEN’, it is totally un-ac-fucking-ceptable for you to pee from more than 1 to 1.5 inches away from the furthest protruding wall of a urinal.  Get this through your thick as bulldog shit skull as soon as possible, or I’m going to start tazing all of you bastards!

I can’t believe that while the rest of us are trying to live in a civilized society, you pricks are searching for new ways to flash your coworkers which won’t result in a sexual harassment suit and a pink slip, both of which should also be served with a swift kick to the taint (perineum for all the pre-meds) from one of the Gramatica brothers.  You’d have to be tripping on acid to think your coworkers would approve of this behavior from anyone other than one of their kids.  You’d also have to be on higher than Snoop Dogg on a Tuesday to hold solo sword fighting tournament in a bathroom with no urinal walls; because you’re high or Jaba the Hut’s personal douche bag (gross).