Looking Out For Number One...And Two
I’m a man, so naturally I should have an answer to this question. But honestly, I’m stumped. If anyone out there knows the answer, please let me know, will ya?
So here it is: Why is it that a man can shoot the eye out of a sparrow at 100 yards, but he can’t pee into a toilet 18 inches from their waist without getting it everywhere?
I mention this because I just returned from my employer’s most often-visited men’s room, where there was a yet another yellow puddle all over the floor. Why is it that these mouth breathers think that we want to stand in their old stale urine? It’s not exactly my idea of shoe polish, if you must know. Worse yet, why do they think there are janitors out there who have nothing better to do than clean up their bodily spillage? Someone should make them clean one of these potties one day, and we’ll see how much they enjoy playing “fire hose” after that.
I’m not a huge fan of public restrooms anyway – I’m usually not a germophobe, but when it comes to the filthy cans around here, I’ll make an exception. They “clean” them twice a day (they’re that heavily used), but I’ve watched the janitor – trust me; they don’t really “clean” them. A little wipe-down of the countertops, the trash may get emptied if it’s full enough, and that’s about it. I know for a fact that the floors haven’t been mopped since the Clinton administration, so you know that there’s just a ton of freeze-dried numero unos on that floor. Spew, kiddies. Spew.
My next restroom question has to do with these two words: Courtesy Flush. Nobody told you to eat all those chili cheese dogs. Can’t you give your fellow restroom mates a freaking break every now and then? Do I really need I elaborate? Lord, I hope not.
And while we’re on the subject, why do some guys think it’s appropriate to go into the john, rip the biggest fart they’ve ever cooked up, and then not even have the common decency to say “excuse me” or even “look out!” Inconsiderate bastards.
So there’s your potty talk for the day. I’ll leave you with this thought, courtesy of the men’s room in a building I loved working in some twenty years ago:
Be like Dad
Not like Sis
Raise the seat
Before you piss.
See? That wasn’t really so hard, now was it?
So here it is: Why is it that a man can shoot the eye out of a sparrow at 100 yards, but he can’t pee into a toilet 18 inches from their waist without getting it everywhere?
I mention this because I just returned from my employer’s most often-visited men’s room, where there was a yet another yellow puddle all over the floor. Why is it that these mouth breathers think that we want to stand in their old stale urine? It’s not exactly my idea of shoe polish, if you must know. Worse yet, why do they think there are janitors out there who have nothing better to do than clean up their bodily spillage? Someone should make them clean one of these potties one day, and we’ll see how much they enjoy playing “fire hose” after that.
I’m not a huge fan of public restrooms anyway – I’m usually not a germophobe, but when it comes to the filthy cans around here, I’ll make an exception. They “clean” them twice a day (they’re that heavily used), but I’ve watched the janitor – trust me; they don’t really “clean” them. A little wipe-down of the countertops, the trash may get emptied if it’s full enough, and that’s about it. I know for a fact that the floors haven’t been mopped since the Clinton administration, so you know that there’s just a ton of freeze-dried numero unos on that floor. Spew, kiddies. Spew.
My next restroom question has to do with these two words: Courtesy Flush. Nobody told you to eat all those chili cheese dogs. Can’t you give your fellow restroom mates a freaking break every now and then? Do I really need I elaborate? Lord, I hope not.
And while we’re on the subject, why do some guys think it’s appropriate to go into the john, rip the biggest fart they’ve ever cooked up, and then not even have the common decency to say “excuse me” or even “look out!” Inconsiderate bastards.
So there’s your potty talk for the day. I’ll leave you with this thought, courtesy of the men’s room in a building I loved working in some twenty years ago:
Be like Dad
Not like Sis
Raise the seat
Before you piss.
See? That wasn’t really so hard, now was it?
posted by Tommy G at
4:48 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home