Strude

Let’s take a break from the serious political discussion for a moment, for I have a tale to tell.  And like all tales worth telling it takes place in the john.

Our bathrooms at work have timers on the lights.  If no one has been in there for a while, the lights shut off. I know, very green of us.  There also is a motion detector right by the door so when you swing it open, the lights pop on. Ain’t technology grand?

Now, we have already discussed the benefits of a work poo, but there I am still a bit of hesitant doing anything other than tapping a kidney in a public rest room.  And even then, I would rather see a man about a horse without an audience.  So, whenever I sojourn to the bathroom, I open the door slowly to see if the lights are on or off.  If the lights are off, not only is no one in there, but no one has been in there for quite some time.  I don’t know why this is better.  It just is.

Now, I don’t know what the time limit is set for. I have never had the lights go off on me and sometimes it takes a while for the train to leave the station if you know what I mean.  And of course you do.  I am nothing if not not subtle.  Anyway, the time limit seems pretty reasonable.

So, today after enjoying ounces and ounces of cola goodness, mother nature called.  I opened the door slowly.  Ha-ha, the lights were off.  I pushed the door open the rest of the way, the light came on and I smiled to myself.  I would have no audience as I drained the main vein.

I rounded the corner and there they were.  Two shoes and crumpled jeans visible under a stall door.  And judging by the sound, my fellow employee was mid-wipe.  Mid-wipe when the lights came back on.  So, was he mid-wipe when they shut off causing him to wait for the next guy to enter before finishing, or was he doing his best to manage in the dark, much like the pioneers of old?

I wanted to ask him how long the lights had stayed on - seems this would be valuable information - but I didn’t.  I was too busy biting my lip to keep from laughing.

As the end of the work day approached so did the old familiar stirring in the guts letting me know of the eminent arrival of the USS Fecal. Then I was forced to ask the age old question: Do I hold it in, thus ensuring I leave on time but risk the possibility of an uncomfortable commute, or do I lay cable now thus ensuring the comfortable commute, but risk having to stay at work later than I want.

After much pondering, I came to this conclusion: Why wouldn’t you drop the kids off at the pool while at work?

First, you’re getting paid for your time on the throne. Making money while splashing the pot has got to be one of the most awesome work activities ever. Possibly, second to only one other activity one can do in the workplace, but that is off topic.

Second, not only are you making money, but saving money at the same time thus maximizing your monetary gain. You’re using free TP, free soap, and free water. This all a win-win, baby.

And at my building, the fates have conspired to add yet a third benefit of the work poo, well at least the end of the work day work poo. The janitorial staff usually completes their duties in the men’s room towards the end of the day. This means I get a clean bowl devoid of other people’s butt cooties.

Bottom line, even without the fresh, clean john, taking a dump at work just makes financial sense. They should teach this crap in business school. See what I did there?

Today’s Post Defecation Commute Provided by a Shuffling iPod

• Paradise City from Appetite for Destruction by Guns N’ Roses: Slash’s flying fingers during the final frantic minutes of this song is still one of the best riffs ever.
• To The End from Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge by My Chemical Romance: These guys just plain rock. They have quickly become one of my favorites, especially after the release of The Black Parade.
• Your Winter from 10 Things I Hate About You Soundtrack by Sister Hazel: Nothing incredibly special about this song, but I like it.
• Looking Back On Today from So Long, Astoria by The Ataris: Nothing really makes this band stand apart from the rest of the punk infused pop bands that are out there, but the title song from the album, which is an ode to the movie Goonies, is a great song.
• WWOZ from Friction Baby by Better Than Ezra: This band is very underrated. The images and stories their songs create in my head are the reasons I love them. Some of their songs have some surprisingly violent images hidden in beautiful music. WWOZ, however, creates lazy, summer images that remind me of family vacations spent visiting relatives in Mississippi and Tennessee.
• Enthused from Dude Ranch by Blink-182: Loves me the blink. If I was creating an all star rock band, Travis Barker would be my drummer, hands down.
• By Starlight from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness by Smashing Pumpkins: In my all star rock band, Billy Corgan would be one of my song writers and he definitely would by my producer. I mean, this guy made me like a Hole song that he produced. Hole! Hole, people! Freaking Courtney Love. Billy’s got mad skills.

Yesterday, one of the building’s maintenance guys was working on the leaky pipe in the restroom, causing me to go upstairs to drain the main vein. My company has the entire first floor, while the second floor has a few different companies thus making that restroom public domain. Still, whenever I use this restroom, I feel like I am trespassing.

As I entered this upstairs bathroom the other day I heard voices. I almost turned around and walked out. I hate an audience whilst tapping a kidney. Besides, I don’t get to adjust the stream, hitting different areas in the urinal causing different tones. My urine and I make such beautiful music.

The only thing that kept me from turning around and leaving was they probably saw the door open. After all, they were talking. And all men know that you don’t talk in the john. If you absolutely have to talk, the only time you do it is when both parties are washing their hands, or better yet, when they are drying their hands and are on the way out the door. So, putting 2 and 2 together, I figured the talkers were on their way out meaning: 1) they would soon be in the hall and see that it was me who opened the door and 2) if they left I could pee in musical peace. So, I continued in.

Imagine my horror when I walked in to find one guy taking a dump, and the other guy standing right in front of the first guy’s stall door. So many things were wrong with this scene. First of all, the positioning. Who the crap stands right in front of another dude’s stall? The smell alone should be reason enough to stand back. And how can the guy on the throne let anything move on through while some other guy’s toes are crossing the line?

Second, they were talking. Between all the grunts, groans and splashes, THEY WERE TALKING. I’m sorry, didn’t it say Men’s Room on the door? What kind of self respecting, penis owning, testicle scratching man carries on a conversation amidst the plops of poo? This was unbelievable. I literally scurried to a urinal and pushed as hard as I could - without risking striping my shorts - to get the urine out as fast as possible so I could escape this scene.

It was an extremely uncomfortable moment that stretched on through the ages during which I was treated to the following:

Standing Guy: (checking his BlackBerry) Whoa, they got a new flavor of Absolute. [He was surfing the net for liquor, apparently.]

Crapping Guy: Cool.

Standing Guy: Hey and it’s on sale.

Crapping Guy: You remember that girl at the liquor store in St. George?

Standing Guy: Oh, Yeah.

Crapping Guy: She was hot.

Standing Guy: Yeah.

I kid you not. I was afraid I was going to start laughing, and then I realized, “Nope. I’m too scared to laugh.” Still, I shot out of there like my hemorrhoids were on fire.

I am still shaken today.

I headed for the drinking fountain at the Hell Hole and found myself in the men’s room. I stopped in the middle of the room and looked around for a second before I realized what had happened.

I turned around, exited and got a drink at the fountain. I ended the drink faster than I wanted, because I was embarrassed. I got halfway back to the checkpoint and thought, “That’s stupid. So you went into the bathroom. Go get more water if you want it.” I turned around and headed for the drinking fountain again.

I was halfway down the row of urinals before I realized it happened again. Holy Crap! This time there were other men around, so instead of walking back out and looking like a moron (too late) I went and stood in front of one of the urinals, pretending to pee.

What is wrong with me?