Posted tagged ‘poop’

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?

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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!

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.