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Homecoming
As is probably obvious from the frequency of recent posting, Potty blogger has been traveling for work the last few weeks.
And while it's exciting to meet a new toilet on the road, there's nothing like coming home to the warm familiarity of 720 California fourth floor men's room. It was my first stop this morning.
She did not disappoint.
There was a partially digested deuce waiting for me in the penthouse stall. It sort of poked its head up out of the water as if to say, "Welcome home. We've missed you."
I cleared the screen, conducted my business, headed toward the sink, washed my hands and reached for the paper towel...to find them completely out.
Two for two, fourth floor men's room. Good to be home.
I shook my hands dry and opened the door and hesitated. "What the heck," I thought to myself. "Let's celebrate." I reached back, stuck my hand under the hand sanitizer dispenser, and let it take a gigantic dump in the palm of my hand.
And while it's exciting to meet a new toilet on the road, there's nothing like coming home to the warm familiarity of 720 California fourth floor men's room. It was my first stop this morning.
She did not disappoint.
There was a partially digested deuce waiting for me in the penthouse stall. It sort of poked its head up out of the water as if to say, "Welcome home. We've missed you."
I cleared the screen, conducted my business, headed toward the sink, washed my hands and reached for the paper towel...to find them completely out.
Two for two, fourth floor men's room. Good to be home.
I shook my hands dry and opened the door and hesitated. "What the heck," I thought to myself. "Let's celebrate." I reached back, stuck my hand under the hand sanitizer dispenser, and let it take a gigantic dump in the palm of my hand.
The machines gain a toe hold
720 California has doubled-down on hand sanitizer.While we have established that hand sanitizer is not a substitute for soap and water, the powers-that-be decided to install automatic hand sanitizer dispensers near the door of every restroom in the building. Technology to keep us all clean and safe!
The near-door placement means that you can open the door, hold it open with your foot, place your hands under the dispenser, sanitize yourself and then exit the rest room without ever having to touch the dreaded (and likely diseased) door handle.
The one hiccup in the plan is that the volume knob on the dispenser seems to have been turned past "dollop" all the way over to "barf."
In fact, so much sanitizer is dispensed that you are immediately faced with a dilemma: where do go to get rid of the excess? Do you turn around and head back to the sink and wash it off? Do you make a left turn and head for the kitchen, grab a paper towel and scrape off the extra glop? Or do you wander around the office, hands outstretched, shouting "who wants some Purell?" to your co-workers?
The good news is that the company is clearly willing to invest in technology to keep us clean. Let's get on this bidet thing.
Piece of garbage celebrates one-month anniversary
You know that gold crown thing that's been hanging out on top of the third floor penthouse toilet for the past month?Earlier this week, it made a break for it.
It is no longer sitting on top of the back lip of the toilet, but has scurried into a corner of the penthouse stall. Where it has been sitting for the past three days.
When does something actually become "garbage" in a 720 California restroom? Apparently, the janitorial and maintenance staff has been instructed: "Please do not discard any unidentified item for at least six to eight weeks."
So if it this thing is yours, you might want to grab it today. Because in a few weeks, somebody is going to throw it away. Maybe.
What the hell is THAT?
By now, all of us at 720 California are used to the idea that the business chamber may contain an unexpected surprise.
But the urinal is a different story.
Sure, people drop stuff in there from time to time. But when one finds a substance of an...organic nature, well, that’s news, folks.
Several people stopped by potty blogger’s work station today with some version of “Dude, have you seen that thing in the big boy urinal? What IS it?”
I have no idea. But it’s sitting there on top of the urinal cake, quietly mocking us all. (And no, I will not post a picture.)
When I first saw it this morning, my first guess was, “piece of tomato.” But when my brain failed to come up with even one possible scenario for a person eating a BLT in front of the urinal, I decided to make a closer inspection.
I wish that I hadn’t.
It is definitely “man made.” A lougie? No. At least, it does not conform to any known lougie specification as it could not be dislodged with a steady stream.
A colleague suggested “kidney stone,” and the mere thought of a co-worker dropping a stone at the urinal made me throw up a little bit in my mouth. But another colleague (whose medical credentials include two semesters as a dorm EMT in college) said that it is most definitely not a kidney stone.
So, the mystery remains. There is an unidentified foreign object sitting atop the urinal cake in the big boy urinal. If you are responsible, please explain yourself.
But the urinal is a different story.
Sure, people drop stuff in there from time to time. But when one finds a substance of an...organic nature, well, that’s news, folks.
Several people stopped by potty blogger’s work station today with some version of “Dude, have you seen that thing in the big boy urinal? What IS it?”
I have no idea. But it’s sitting there on top of the urinal cake, quietly mocking us all. (And no, I will not post a picture.)
When I first saw it this morning, my first guess was, “piece of tomato.” But when my brain failed to come up with even one possible scenario for a person eating a BLT in front of the urinal, I decided to make a closer inspection.
I wish that I hadn’t.
It is definitely “man made.” A lougie? No. At least, it does not conform to any known lougie specification as it could not be dislodged with a steady stream.
A colleague suggested “kidney stone,” and the mere thought of a co-worker dropping a stone at the urinal made me throw up a little bit in my mouth. But another colleague (whose medical credentials include two semesters as a dorm EMT in college) said that it is most definitely not a kidney stone.
So, the mystery remains. There is an unidentified foreign object sitting atop the urinal cake in the big boy urinal. If you are responsible, please explain yourself.
Nobel Piss Prize
Friday afternoon keg of beer on the loading dock = one colleague spending close to ten minutes at the big boy urinal. Sources tell potty blogger that audio evidence suggests a good three-to-four minute uninterrupted stream.
We salute you, urinary wonder.
We salute you, urinary wonder.
Smells like nervous tummy
Walked into first floor men's room this morning and it smelled like a tire fire.
Or rather, it smelled like somebody lit a tire fire, put that tire fire into their anus, let it burn for a while, and then released it into one of the stalls.
This is a chronic problem for first floor men's room for one reason: job applicants.
A job applicant arrives at our building for a job interview. He takes a seat in the first floor waiting area. He is nervous. His tummy starts to rumble. He decides to make a pre-inteview stop in first floor men's room. The results are rarely pretty.
Or rather, it smelled like somebody lit a tire fire, put that tire fire into their anus, let it burn for a while, and then released it into one of the stalls.
This is a chronic problem for first floor men's room for one reason: job applicants.
A job applicant arrives at our building for a job interview. He takes a seat in the first floor waiting area. He is nervous. His tummy starts to rumble. He decides to make a pre-inteview stop in first floor men's room. The results are rarely pretty.
We're out of cake
Whoa. Looks like somebody on third floor wasn't too happy about having to work this weekend. Because over the course of 48 hours, he obliterated the big boy urinal cake. (See sad finger nail-sized cake remnant in adjacent photo. That's one small slice o' blue frosting, friends.)
Our sources say the cake was intact Friday afternoon. (Hey, we've got to give the Potty Blogger intern something to do.) This morning...not so much.
A couple of observations:
1. How angry do you have to be to generate enough water-pressure to destroy an industrial-sized block of chemical freshener?
2. If your urine toxicity is at a level where such a feat is possible, you may want to drink a few more glasses of water each day.
3. What's the over/under on the number of weeks/years before the cake is replaced?
4. We've all gotten spoiled the last few weeks by having the cake in place, but it's time to start flushing again, men. An easy way to remember: if the water is still yellow, you haven't flushed.
No pilgrims, please
What's wrong with you people?
Apparently, the security guard here at 720 California recently turned away several visitors who walked in off the street and asked to be let upstairs so they could see the fourth floor men's room.
Yes, this blog recently received some unexpected press and acquired some new fans. But I really don't think you need to plan your family vacation around a visit. It's a bathroom, people. And from the photos posted, you've pretty much seen the whole thing.
My guess is that our visitors didn't just want to "see" the bathroom, but perhaps make an contribution to the decor--a contribution so extraordinary that it would garner coverage here.
Let's be adults about this, shall we? I don't sneak into your office and take a dump on your floor. So maybe you could forgo your little adventure in mine?
Apparently, the security guard here at 720 California recently turned away several visitors who walked in off the street and asked to be let upstairs so they could see the fourth floor men's room.
Yes, this blog recently received some unexpected press and acquired some new fans. But I really don't think you need to plan your family vacation around a visit. It's a bathroom, people. And from the photos posted, you've pretty much seen the whole thing.
My guess is that our visitors didn't just want to "see" the bathroom, but perhaps make an contribution to the decor--a contribution so extraordinary that it would garner coverage here.
Let's be adults about this, shall we? I don't sneak into your office and take a dump on your floor. So maybe you could forgo your little adventure in mine?
On silverware and body pockets
The other day, I headed in to use the urinal, saw that the big boy was taken and saddled up to the little man.
I shot a quick glance to my right to see who was standing next to me and was surprised to find...a spoon sticking out of his mouth.
Apparently, he had both hands on the wheel. Considering the alternate places he could have stuck the spoon, I suppose he made the right choice.
But how does one find himself at the urinal with a spoon?
"Mmmm...let me just finish up this yogurt on my way to relieve myself." Actually, this scenario is impossible at 720 California; thanks to our progressive trash policy, there is no place to dispose of a yogurt container in the men's room. Unless this gentlemen was storing the yogurt container somewhere else on his person.
I can only think of one reason you would need to take a utensil into the bathroom and, frankly, that work is best left to a qualified physician.
Let's keep the silverware in the kitchen, men.
I shot a quick glance to my right to see who was standing next to me and was surprised to find...a spoon sticking out of his mouth.
Apparently, he had both hands on the wheel. Considering the alternate places he could have stuck the spoon, I suppose he made the right choice.
But how does one find himself at the urinal with a spoon?
"Mmmm...let me just finish up this yogurt on my way to relieve myself." Actually, this scenario is impossible at 720 California; thanks to our progressive trash policy, there is no place to dispose of a yogurt container in the men's room. Unless this gentlemen was storing the yogurt container somewhere else on his person.
I can only think of one reason you would need to take a utensil into the bathroom and, frankly, that work is best left to a qualified physician.
Let's keep the silverware in the kitchen, men.
Uh...is this piece important?
Ten days and counting.That's how long this little do-hickey has been sitting on the back rim of the third floor penthouse toilet.
Since this is a location where people like to store their Snapple bottles, at first I thought it was trash--plastic neck sleeve that had been left there.
Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it was metal (brass? solid gold?) and thought, "It looks like a small crown." King of the turds?
My best guess is that it is actually part of the plumbing--a piece that has fallen out of the works. Which is weird, because everything seems to be functioning as normal. But for how long?
My working theory is that Mr. Back Anus is somehow responsible for dislodging it. I don't know how, but there is so, so much I do not understand about that guy.
Anyway, if you decide to conduct business at this location, be forewarned: it may be living on borrowed time.
Not a substitute for soap and water
This story starts 383 miles from the 4th floor men’s room, occurs in the distant past and reveals the mileage on potty blogger, but there is a point, I promise.Nearly twenty years ago, potty blogger and his girlfriend at the time used to frequent a fast food restaurant by the name of Carl’s Jr. in Marina Del Rey, California. (Potty blogger’s favorite feature of this restaurant was the three-person booth--two seats on one side of the table and one seat on the other---where he and his then-girlfriend once took a friend who had just broken up her boyfriend, which was both funny and sad...and has nothing to do with this story.)
At the conclusion of one fine meal at this establishment, I excused myself from the table to go to the restroom. As I was washing my hands, I noticed a new dispenser on the wall, next to the soap dispenser. On the front, it said, “New anti-bacterial cleaning gel--no water needed!”
When I left the men’s room and reported my finding to my then-girlfriend, she did not believe me. There was no equivalent dispenser in the ladies room and the idea of a hand-cleaning substance that did not require water seemed preposterous to her. “You have to use soap and water to clean your hands,” she said.
What neither of us realized at the time was that I had stumbled into one of the earliest test markets for hand-sanitizer. (You youngsters out there may find it hard to imagine a world where hand-sanitizer was not ubiquitous, but at the time, nobody had ever heard of it.)
The geniuses at Purell-or-whoever-created-hand-sanitizer were test marketing the substance in men’s restrooms as a substitute to hand washing. Given the proximity to actual soap and water, this strategy, in hindsight, seems ridiculous. But marketers have to kiss a lot of frogs in the early days of product development to find the best way to sell whatever it is they’re trying to sell.
Fast forward to today and we’re now living in the Jetsons-like future of 2009. Hand-sanitizer is everywhere.
Which brings us back to the men’s rooms at 720 California.
A few weeks ago, hand-sanitizer pumps appeared near the sinks on each floor. The timing was strange, since we’re well past last spring’s swine flu hysteria, but maybe they’re just getting a jump on the fall panic.
But, gentlemen, as my long-ago girlfriend pointed out nearly 20 years ago, “You have to use soap and water to clean your hands.”
Unfortunately, the presence of hand-sanitizer on the counter has confused some of my co-workers. On two occasions, I have seen men forgo soap and water for a quick spritz from the pump.
Not good enough, men. I know it’s old fashion, but you must use soap and water to clean your mitts after you make a number one or a number two. Every time. No exceptions.
I Do Everything To Turn Him On
The researchers says, a man can get moody or not interested in having sex with their partner they are used to giving them pleasure only. We can talk about anything, except for his hand stimulating himself and his performance problem during love making with me.Continue to discussion board post...
How Do You Do First Time Foreplay Teasing?
The problem is, although I've had regular girlfriends, and even slept with girls but, I've never actually done foreplay teasing before. I have started to see someone and am ready to take the plunge. The problem is she will be fairly experienced don't want her to know, that I've never done feeling her up love making activity before but, don't want to let her down.Continue to How do you do first time foreplay post...
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Lose a pen?
What was this guy doing when he dropped his pen? Where was he holding it? Both hands on the wheel, buddy. Whatever flash of inspiration might hit you during your session, I think you can remember it until you get back to your desk.
Change of plans
“Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.” – John Lennon
Today, I heard a man make lemonade out of lemons.
I was kicking back in the penthouse when I heard somebody enter and head for the urinal. He spent some time there--maybe 30-40 seconds--and then zipped up and headed into the Peter Brady stall to continue his adventure.
What happened?
Did his wires get crossed? Did his brain think, “forward pass” when the team really needed to prepare for a pitch to the tailback?
And when, exactly, did our hero realize that a urinal would not be sufficient for his needs? Did he have an “uh, oh” moment? Did the turtle poke his head out? Did he do a quick do-I-have-time-to-make-it-to-a-stall-or-should-I-just-spin-around-right-here calculation?
I don’t know the answers to any of these questions, but he seemed to handle the challenge with grace. Well played, sir.
Today, I heard a man make lemonade out of lemons.
I was kicking back in the penthouse when I heard somebody enter and head for the urinal. He spent some time there--maybe 30-40 seconds--and then zipped up and headed into the Peter Brady stall to continue his adventure.
What happened?
Did his wires get crossed? Did his brain think, “forward pass” when the team really needed to prepare for a pitch to the tailback?
And when, exactly, did our hero realize that a urinal would not be sufficient for his needs? Did he have an “uh, oh” moment? Did the turtle poke his head out? Did he do a quick do-I-have-time-to-make-it-to-a-stall-or-should-I-just-spin-around-right-here calculation?
I don’t know the answers to any of these questions, but he seemed to handle the challenge with grace. Well played, sir.
I am not a superhero
“The 4th floor bathroom needs you right now”
That, friends, is the subject line of an email that I received yesterday evening.
One of the occupational hazards of writing a blog about the men’s room in your building is that, inevitably, some of your co-workers come to regard you as some sort of Bathroom Batman, ready to swoop in and save the day.
Don’t get me wrong...I appreciate a good tip. Letters from in-building readers have alerted me to all sorts of developments--some good and some very, very bad.
But when you stumble across a crime scene, you should call the police, not a reporter.
If a co-worker--probably the one with the mysteriously-placed anus--has sculpted his masterwork in the fourth floor men’s room, call facilities. They have the equipment, training, and intestinal fortitude to deal with such art installations.
Of course, I couldn’t resist a drive-by. Yes, it was horrible. No, I cannot explain it. As I’ve said before, there is no position into which I could contort my body to paint on that portion of the canvas.
We fear the artist we cannot understand. And yet, on some level, there is quiet respect for his unspeakable “gift.”
That, friends, is the subject line of an email that I received yesterday evening.
One of the occupational hazards of writing a blog about the men’s room in your building is that, inevitably, some of your co-workers come to regard you as some sort of Bathroom Batman, ready to swoop in and save the day.
Don’t get me wrong...I appreciate a good tip. Letters from in-building readers have alerted me to all sorts of developments--some good and some very, very bad.
But when you stumble across a crime scene, you should call the police, not a reporter.
If a co-worker--probably the one with the mysteriously-placed anus--has sculpted his masterwork in the fourth floor men’s room, call facilities. They have the equipment, training, and intestinal fortitude to deal with such art installations.
Of course, I couldn’t resist a drive-by. Yes, it was horrible. No, I cannot explain it. As I’ve said before, there is no position into which I could contort my body to paint on that portion of the canvas.
We fear the artist we cannot understand. And yet, on some level, there is quiet respect for his unspeakable “gift.”
Cake for everyone
Interesting. On Friday, this blog gets a little bit of attention from the mainstream media. On Tuesday, new urinal cakes appear in each of the bathrooms. Coincidence or power of the press?
Who cares. It's Christmas in September.
And these aren't your plain, budget cake. These have got a fancy white plastic cage around them. (Why is that exactly? What are we protecting the cake from? Are they worried that some sticky-fingered gentlemen might lean down and pop that hockey puck into his pocket if its allowed to roam free?)
Things are getting fancy over here.
Labor Day greetings
First...
Three things that do not go together: 1.) three-day weekend, 2.) letting the janitorial staff take the weekend off, and 3.) selecting that weekend to make repairs to the building’s heating and cooling system.
The one stimulus that the 720 California men’s restroom bio-chemical experiment did NOT need? Heat.
Those of us who have the pleasure of working here at the office over the holiday weekend are enjoying the tart and tangy aroma of...re-heated liquefied corpse? (My nose and brain are currently working overtime to try and make sense of it.)
Imagine a hobo at a bus stop on a warm summer day. He relieves himself in the middle of the bus stop. Then he plugs in his portable microwave and begins to cook a raccoon.
It’s a little like that.
Second...
A warm welcome to our new readers.
Thanks to some unexpected press last week, it seems that readership blossomed from five guys in the building to...a few more.
All are welcome, but in light of some of the new comments and emails, some clarifying comments seem in order.
This blog is not about poop. It’s about man’s inhumanity to man. It’s about trying to make life a little better for the poor schmos who must conduct their business in this building.
We don’t do in-the-bowl photography. We don’t name names. This ain’t toilet porn, friends. It’s a community of freedom fighters.
And so, while you have every reason to be extremely proud of that 19-incher you dropped in Denmark, I don’t need to see the photo. Seriously.
With that said, welcome to the party.
For you newbies who would like a sampler plate of some favorite posts, may I suggest the following:
This is Not a Library
My E-Level Vietnam
Coincidence?
Soundtrack Etiquette
Black (and Brown) Tuesday
Three things that do not go together: 1.) three-day weekend, 2.) letting the janitorial staff take the weekend off, and 3.) selecting that weekend to make repairs to the building’s heating and cooling system.
The one stimulus that the 720 California men’s restroom bio-chemical experiment did NOT need? Heat.
Those of us who have the pleasure of working here at the office over the holiday weekend are enjoying the tart and tangy aroma of...re-heated liquefied corpse? (My nose and brain are currently working overtime to try and make sense of it.)
Imagine a hobo at a bus stop on a warm summer day. He relieves himself in the middle of the bus stop. Then he plugs in his portable microwave and begins to cook a raccoon.
It’s a little like that.
Second...
A warm welcome to our new readers.
Thanks to some unexpected press last week, it seems that readership blossomed from five guys in the building to...a few more.
All are welcome, but in light of some of the new comments and emails, some clarifying comments seem in order.
This blog is not about poop. It’s about man’s inhumanity to man. It’s about trying to make life a little better for the poor schmos who must conduct their business in this building.
We don’t do in-the-bowl photography. We don’t name names. This ain’t toilet porn, friends. It’s a community of freedom fighters.
And so, while you have every reason to be extremely proud of that 19-incher you dropped in Denmark, I don’t need to see the photo. Seriously.
With that said, welcome to the party.
For you newbies who would like a sampler plate of some favorite posts, may I suggest the following:
This is Not a Library
My E-Level Vietnam
Coincidence?
Soundtrack Etiquette
Black (and Brown) Tuesday
The saddest stick-up ever
You have to applaud a co-worker who takes matters into his own hands. Evidence suggests that a gentleman on the fifth floor did just that.In both the penthouse and the Peter Brady stalls, low on the stall walls, are two stick-up air fresheners.
As far as I can tell, this is an anomaly unique to the fifth floor men’s room. They are clearly not standard-issue.
In other words, at some point in the past, some fifth floor fellow said to himself, “This place does not smell as good as it should. I’m going to use some of my own money to purchase something that will make it smell better.”
The key here is “in the past”...because these two little stick-ups have maintained their silent vigil for more than a year. Any air-freshening properties they once possessed are long gone. All that is left is the sad little plastic disks, reminding us that once upon a time, one man dared to dream of a better world.
Now THAT'S courtesy
Somebody on fifth floor has been reading his copy of Miss Manners.Did he leave the sports magazine on the floor by the toilet? No. He thoughtfully draped it over the handicap rail, putting it within arm's reach for the next patron.
Not only did I get a chance to catch up on pre-season college football, I did it without risking hepatitis.
That's how it's done, men.
Heavy lifting at the urinal
I was conducting some business in the penthouse stall the other day when I heard the bathroom door open and somebody walk in. He headed over to the urinal, unzipped and then, let out an enormous sigh:
“Urrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..”
That was followed by more deep breaths and semi-grunts.
Honestly, if I hadn’t been sitting there with my pants around my ankles, I would have thought that I’d stumbled into the Olympic weightlifting competition. (Insert your own “clean and jerk” joke here.)
What the hell was going on with this guy? Is breaking out Mr. Wiggly that much of an ordeal?
Maybe the guy has a bad relationship with his wang. Perhaps the heavy breathing was his way to summon the courage to give this whole pee-pee thing one more try. “OK, little fella. I know we’ve had our trials and tribulations. But I believe in you. I want to make this work. Here we go.”
Or maybe he was just having a rough day. We’ve all been there, big guy. Sometimes when work is a major nut-punch, you just have to let it all go in an exhale. But maybe the urinal isn’t the optimal location for self-expression.
His transaction was completed before mine, so I did not lay eyes on the fellow. But he is out there, among us. And he needs a hug. Just not at the urinal.
“Urrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..”
That was followed by more deep breaths and semi-grunts.
Honestly, if I hadn’t been sitting there with my pants around my ankles, I would have thought that I’d stumbled into the Olympic weightlifting competition. (Insert your own “clean and jerk” joke here.)
What the hell was going on with this guy? Is breaking out Mr. Wiggly that much of an ordeal?
Maybe the guy has a bad relationship with his wang. Perhaps the heavy breathing was his way to summon the courage to give this whole pee-pee thing one more try. “OK, little fella. I know we’ve had our trials and tribulations. But I believe in you. I want to make this work. Here we go.”
Or maybe he was just having a rough day. We’ve all been there, big guy. Sometimes when work is a major nut-punch, you just have to let it all go in an exhale. But maybe the urinal isn’t the optimal location for self-expression.
His transaction was completed before mine, so I did not lay eyes on the fellow. But he is out there, among us. And he needs a hug. Just not at the urinal.
Is it weird to walk out of the men's room holding a box of cereal?
Unless there has been a natural disaster that knocked out the power to your refrigerator so that the only way you can store your milk and keep it from going sour is by tying a string around the carton and gently submerging it into the cool water of your toilet...yes; yes it is.
Pee-mail
True story.
Walked into the men's room and was standing at the big boy urinal. Door opens and somebody walks in. He saddles up to the little man urinal and starts his business.
He says, "Hey," and we exchange pleasantries. He says, "I've been meaning to send you an e-mail, but then I saw you walk in here and I thought 'I've got to go too; I'll just talk to him about it at the urinal.'"
Pee-mail.
I'm not sure how I feel about this. Is it really OK to talk shop while you're partially exposed?
Is this the beginning of a trend? I mean, if me and a colleague show up to meet and we discover that we both of us have a need to make a #2, do we just file into the men's room, head to our respective stalls and conduct the meeting through the partition?"
Productivity up? Yes. Dignity? Way down.
Walked into the men's room and was standing at the big boy urinal. Door opens and somebody walks in. He saddles up to the little man urinal and starts his business.
He says, "Hey," and we exchange pleasantries. He says, "I've been meaning to send you an e-mail, but then I saw you walk in here and I thought 'I've got to go too; I'll just talk to him about it at the urinal.'"
Pee-mail.
I'm not sure how I feel about this. Is it really OK to talk shop while you're partially exposed?
Is this the beginning of a trend? I mean, if me and a colleague show up to meet and we discover that we both of us have a need to make a #2, do we just file into the men's room, head to our respective stalls and conduct the meeting through the partition?"
Productivity up? Yes. Dignity? Way down.
The king is dead
This morning, the smell emanating from second floor men's room made my knees buckle. As I was walking by the door.
When the plume is strong enough to work its way through the door, you have officially lost your spot as "the best men's room in the building."
We've seen this coming. But when the champ finally hits the canvas, it's a shock.
When the plume is strong enough to work its way through the door, you have officially lost your spot as "the best men's room in the building."
We've seen this coming. But when the champ finally hits the canvas, it's a shock.
Stand and deliver
Yesterday, I walked into fourth floor men's room and discovered a gentleman standing in the stall of last resort, engaged in a little number one action.
Both urinals were open for business (no waiting) and yet this fellow decided to head into the stall and make his pee pee there.
Interesting. And curious.
Why does a guy forgo the devil-may-care breeziness of a urinal for the more serious confines of the business chamber? Antisocial? Performance anxiety?
Is he anti-urinal? Or is he just extremely pro-stall?
Did he have a bad experience where a colleague tried to make conversation at the urinal but he's a "I-need-to-focus-on-what-I'm-doing" kind of guy and so he adopted a new routine?
Was he at a urinal and somebody looked over, looked down and made some sort of comment about his physiology? (I mean, past experience suggests that we do work among men who are built...differently.)
I, for one, wanted to know this man's story. But I could not ask. He was sealed away. Apart. Distant. Alone.
Both urinals were open for business (no waiting) and yet this fellow decided to head into the stall and make his pee pee there.
Interesting. And curious.
Why does a guy forgo the devil-may-care breeziness of a urinal for the more serious confines of the business chamber? Antisocial? Performance anxiety?
Is he anti-urinal? Or is he just extremely pro-stall?
Did he have a bad experience where a colleague tried to make conversation at the urinal but he's a "I-need-to-focus-on-what-I'm-doing" kind of guy and so he adopted a new routine?
Was he at a urinal and somebody looked over, looked down and made some sort of comment about his physiology? (I mean, past experience suggests that we do work among men who are built...differently.)
I, for one, wanted to know this man's story. But I could not ask. He was sealed away. Apart. Distant. Alone.
Just say no to medical waste
We don't write about the first floor men's room a whole lot. Since it's the facility that services that majority of guests to the agency, it's usually kept in pretty good shape. But last week, I came across something that I have not seen on any other floor: medical waste left on the counter next to the sink. OK, so it was somebody's used disposable contact lens package, but...on the counter next to the sink? What's next, old bandages? Used syringes?
"Mmmm, this wound is healing nicely. I think I'll just leave this bloody gauze pad right here next to the soap."
Not cool. I realize that the 720 restrooms now only accept garbage of the paper towel variety, but if you're discarding something that was originally purchased at a pharmacy, maybe you take it with you when you leave? Just a thought.
Pastry chef is in the house
MAJOR triple red alert in 4th floor penthouse stall this morning.
Looks like somebody was trying to frost a cake.
Seriously, dude...I really don't need to see your ganache troweled all over the seat.
On the seat! How does one even do that? Where exactly is the exit on your frosting bag? The middle of your back?
Get thee to a doctor, friend. STAT.
Looks like somebody was trying to frost a cake.
Seriously, dude...I really don't need to see your ganache troweled all over the seat.
On the seat! How does one even do that? Where exactly is the exit on your frosting bag? The middle of your back?
Get thee to a doctor, friend. STAT.
I Just Want To Be Loved Allover
He never wants to touch me unless I ask him too! I would love for him to love me allover like he use too! And he hardly desires intimate love, plus he smokes, I think he would rather give up making love then his smoking cigarettes . I just want to be touched again all over like he use to, I`m the one that always issue love making 98% of time and I`m tired of it. Does he need his testosterone level checked?Continue to I Just Want To Be Loved Allover post...
Read more »
Is It The Thrill Of The Pursuit That Turns Me On?
All my male life I have been unable to have performance abilities with a woman after the third or fourth time we have intimate love. In order to achieve complete satisfaction I have to be with a new partner. Once a woman consents to having lasting love with me I soon lose interest and can no longer finish making love and sometimes can't even get ready to perform. I'd like to have a long term sensual relationship but not too many women would go for a sexless marriage. Continue to post...
Bleach spill on three
Bleach spill outside the door of the third floor men's room.And all I could think was, "They USE bleach in third floor men's room?"
Nothing about the experience of third floor men's room suggests that it has ever made the acquaintance of a cleaning product as strong as bleach.
Seriously?
I don't mean to sound like your wife, but would it kill you to lift the lid?
Or better yet, let me introduce you to Mr. Urinal--he doesn't have a lid that needs lifting.
Seriously, guys...earlier today, one of you walked into the fourth floor men's room, walked right past the two urinals, past the stall of last resort, past the Peter Brady stall, entered the penthouse stall, closed the door, locked it...and then proceeded to pee all over the seat.
Who does that?
Or better yet, let me introduce you to Mr. Urinal--he doesn't have a lid that needs lifting.
Seriously, guys...earlier today, one of you walked into the fourth floor men's room, walked right past the two urinals, past the stall of last resort, past the Peter Brady stall, entered the penthouse stall, closed the door, locked it...and then proceeded to pee all over the seat.
Who does that?
Paper towels only
Recently, the men’s rooms (shouldn’t the plural of “men’s room” be “men’s reem?”) in our building “went green.” That means all the trash will be recycled.As a consequence, fancy plastic signs have been affixed to each men’s room trash cans that say “Paper Towels Only.”
So here’s my question: what other trash were people tossing in there that necessitated the sign?
“Mmm...I think I’ll finish up my lunch in the men’s room and when I’m done, I will discard my extra food waste in the nearest receptacle.”
“Honey, don’t worry about the garbage in the kitchen, I’ll take it into work with me and dump it in the rest room.”
“Golly, should I go to the bathroom in one of the toilets or in this here trash can?”
Paper towels only, men. Glad we got that cleared up.
Is nothing sacred?
Everybody knows that the men’s room on two is the best men’s room in the building. There are a number of reasons—the low number of men who actually work on two, auto-flush toilets in every stall, a cheerful wall color, etc.
But even paradise has its bad days.
Today is a bad day for two.
The wall of smell hit me as soon as I opened the door. This would not be the premium potty experience I hoped for. I did a quick scan and realized that the Peter Brady stall was occupied.
Had the occupant chosen the warm embrace of the #2 stall, forgoing the relative splendor of the penthouse stall? Or was this a case of misplaced blame? Had the real offender just left the penthouse and exited the men’s room, leaving the Peter Brady occupant to take the blame for the remaining plume?
Put then I noticed it. A magazine. Open. On the ground between the two feet of the Peter Brady visitor.
We’re his hands too tired to hold the magazine while he sat? Were his hands otherwise occupied?
Men, there are few areas LESS sanitary then the square foot directly in front of a toilet. It is not a place one should set anything of value and certainly not an item that you will be taking with you, handling for extended periods of time and, perhaps, passing on to a colleague.
It was all the evidence I needed. The reader and the pooper were one in the same.
Second floor, I hardly know you.
But even paradise has its bad days.
Today is a bad day for two.
The wall of smell hit me as soon as I opened the door. This would not be the premium potty experience I hoped for. I did a quick scan and realized that the Peter Brady stall was occupied.
Had the occupant chosen the warm embrace of the #2 stall, forgoing the relative splendor of the penthouse stall? Or was this a case of misplaced blame? Had the real offender just left the penthouse and exited the men’s room, leaving the Peter Brady occupant to take the blame for the remaining plume?
Put then I noticed it. A magazine. Open. On the ground between the two feet of the Peter Brady visitor.
We’re his hands too tired to hold the magazine while he sat? Were his hands otherwise occupied?
Men, there are few areas LESS sanitary then the square foot directly in front of a toilet. It is not a place one should set anything of value and certainly not an item that you will be taking with you, handling for extended periods of time and, perhaps, passing on to a colleague.
It was all the evidence I needed. The reader and the pooper were one in the same.
Second floor, I hardly know you.
Got Frustrated When She Could Not Get Into It
My girlfriend and I were just about to have sensual love recently and I noticed she was too dry for sexual activity. I lost my arousal function momentarily and she told me she couldnt get into it because she was afraid of hurting me because I suffered a back injury that day. It was getting late she said she had to get some sleep for work. I became a bit frustrated because I did not achieve a finish. I would just like to know if my performance frustration is due to overactive testosterone. Continue to post...Toughest Athlete, Toughest Sport
There is often a debate that comes up when athletes discuss the merits of their sport. Which sport is the hardest, and who is the best kind of athlete in the world?My father thinks it ridiculous when people claim to be the world's greatest whatever. "How do they know that someone is a South American village isn't better?" he would say. Without a definition of world's greatest, how can one claim the title?
The same applies for a best athlete or toughest sport claim. Please read on and express your thoughts!
It would be hard to put parameters around sports, athletes, and events to claim a winner, but the discussion is always fun. Activities should be broken down into at least strength/power, endurance, skill, and mental toughness.
Perhaps there should be a category for number of participants involved or the accessibility of the sport. For example, professional football may be a tough sport, but not many people play it. On the other hand because getting in to the top level is difficult, maybe football should be rated higher than other sports.
We need to also differentiate individual sports from team sports, and within team sports the individual positions.
Ironman triathlon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, 26.2 mile run) is touted as the hardest one day endurance event. The event combines multiple sport disciplines and has its origin as a contest to see who was the best athlete amongst people with varying expertise. Running and cycling each have 24 hour events that are also challenging. Even car racing has 24 hour events such as Le Mans. When multiple day events and outside elements are taken into account, a different angle needs to be taken.
Can Le Mans be compared to the others because it uses multiple drivers and a support crew? It may be better than to compare the sport with other long events such as Iditarod (dogs), America's Cup (yachts), or the Giro d'Italia (cycling).
Mixed martial arts combines various arts and without a doubt takes power, strength, skill, and mental toughness. Fans of the sport claim that its competitors are the best athletes because they have to use multiple disciplines in order to succeed. These athletes have to be solid like a bodybuilder yet flexible like a gymnast.
Similar to these athletes, gymnast have to be well rounded and balanced and the same can be said of mountain climbers (Mt. Everest challenges). Some may claim that the differences are too great and the elements of difficulty too varied to put these athletes on the same judging platform.
An argument can be made for events and athletes that either depend on a team, or some outside element in order to be successful. Rodeo events including bull riding/events on horseback, and big wave surfing all merit mention. A lot of skill, strength, and stamina are involved with these types of events. There is also a crucial link with an outside element or being that must be considered.
How does the outside influence affect a run for the title? Team sports such as water polo, crew (rowing), and popular professional sports develop athletes but success can rarely be attributed to one athlete. Is it fair to give the best athlete title to one person who could not perform without the assistance of others?
My intent is not to provide answers, but merely to foster discussion. If the job of picking the top 3 where yours, who would make your list and why?
Need Greater Response For His Intimate Passions
What's a girl with low sexual desire to do?
I am 27 with an average female libido and my 49 year old husband to be is always ready for intimate love. Don't get me wrong, we have fabulous love making...however if it were up to him we would have it 3+ times a day. I have tried everything to increase my own sexual desire including adult toys, fantasizing, female herbal pills, even a prescription from the doctor. We are to be married in less than 7 months and I am afraid this could be the one thing that splits us up. We are perfect for each other in every other way. Read more »
Is this even safe?
Potty blogger believes that a clean mouth is a healthy mouth. I have a toothbrush in my office and, on occasion, I use it.
But yesterday, when I entered the men’s room on third floor for a quick scrub of the pearly whites, it smelled so bad I was actually concerned about the health risks of opening my mouth.
Is it even safe to brush your teeth in such an environment? Can an odor actually eat away enamel?
To be honest, there are times when I don’t even want to open my pants in here.
But yesterday, when I entered the men’s room on third floor for a quick scrub of the pearly whites, it smelled so bad I was actually concerned about the health risks of opening my mouth.
Is it even safe to brush your teeth in such an environment? Can an odor actually eat away enamel?
To be honest, there are times when I don’t even want to open my pants in here.
The Scoop on Sweating
Let me start off getting right to the point; sweating does not equal weight loss! It amazes me that in this day of fast technology and lightening speed access to information, some people are still in the dark when it comes to theories about exercise. I recently saw a guy running up the street (a bit of an incline) at about 1 pm on a hot day. He was in rubber type pants, had multiple sweatshirts on, a hat, a hood, a backpack full of something heavy, and hand weights! I should have stuck around to call the ambulance I am sure he was going to need. Maybe there was a reason for this method of training, though it would take a lot to convince me of it. I bet he is just looking for a ‘get thin quick’ scheme. Sure he lost weight that day. Sure he was sweating a lot. Sure he got a good workout. The problem is that upon drinking water he will gain the weight back. He will likely get injured and therefore not be able to train anymore, or will get burned out because his training is too tough. This will leave him at square one most likely inactive and still out of shape.Sweat is the body's natural cooling mechanism. More sweat does not equal more calories burned. An out of shape person may sweat when exercising, but scientist have found that a person who is in shape sweats sooner since their body is more efficient at cooling down. A body that is cool has greater ability to do more work, and therefore can exercise longer. Instead of wearing rubber suits, people wanting to lose weight should allow the body to cool itself so that they can exercise for longer periods of time, or they can increase the intensity of their exercise. Working out harder or longer (not working out while getting hotter) will indeed burn calories. The weight loss from water will be quickly replaced when water is consumed or foods are eaten. There is no need, nor scientific reason, to induce extra sweating. I will allow you to make the claim that it detoxifies the skin, but how many people actually wear multiple layers of clothes and workout to simply have better skin?
Excessive sweating without replacing of the fluids and minerals will likely result in cramping, nausea, and can even be life threatening. Frequent exercisers, and most endurance athletes, will notice a change in the saltiness of their sweat. Another adaptive mechanism of the body is to try to keep minerals (sodium, potassium, etc) in the body instead of letting them 'escape' onto the skin. The result is sweat that is less salty, as evident when it gets in your mouth, your eyes, and even the way it dries on your skin/clothes.
There are ultra-marathoners who run from Death Valley to Mt. Whitney Portal. This is from the lowest, hottest place in the US, to the highest place in the contiguous US. The temperature easily spikes above 115 degrees, and the distance is 135 miles. A race like this may require some heat training, but unless you are planning on toeing the line at this race, please stay cool and comfortable. And thanks for not dripping excessively next to me on the elliptical trainer.
Looking for a newspaper?
Yes, spreading it out so that I can read multiple sections without having to pick it up is a nice touch, but this is still not a library.
Are Year-Round Sports Bad for You?
There seems to be an on-going trend amongst athletes to play their sport year-round. The ever present mantra in the US of "more is better" has not eluded the sports world. In the case of sports, more is leading to injury and burnout. Perhaps it's the appeal of excelling at the next level that drives some to constantly compete. Maybe it's pressure from parents, coaches, or other athletes. The sport culture has become such that if you are not currently involved in the sport than you will get left behind.
Sports activity breaks the body down, overworks certain muscles, and it does not illicit the necessary response from others. Without rest, the body cannot repair itself and therefore overuse injuries become prevalent. Athletes are under the impression that the muscles they use most are the ones they need to strengthen often. Many times the opposite is true. The athletes need to train the muscles they don't use during their sport as well as train the small stabilizers that will improve their ability to perform. What about those muscles used all season? They need to rest! Without lack of activity, the body cannot recuperate. People fail to realize that they need more rest, not more practice, in order to improve their performance. A break from the sport allows the mind to rest which translates into the athlete having a greater desire to participate. This break will give any injuries a chance to heal, and will give the athlete an opportunity to cross train.
The highest levels of competitive athletes (professional, Olympians, etc) take time off their sport, they cross train, and even take time off from all activity. How is it that athletes strive to be their best yet fail to train like those who are the top of their game? Athletes often mimic their heroes’ supplements, foods, shoes, and equipment yet they do not follow similar exercise plans. Elite level athletes have clearly defined seasons including an off-season, a pre-season, in-season, and off season. Their training changes to accommodate varying physiological and psychological changes. No high caliber athlete is playing their sport at 100% for 100% of the time.
In the off season, athletes typically rest. They may do some cross training or participate in activities that do not directly resemble their sport. Pre-season is a time to work on muscle imbalances, begin injury pre-habilitation, and start a conditioning program. It is only at the end of the pre-season that sports skills are implemented. In season is where the main focus is the sport and the goal is to peak at the necessary time. Even during this time, the athletes take breaks (not go to practice or weekend tournaments). Post season can mean championships, or simply the winding down of the season. This is a good time to address and rehabilitate any injuries resulting from the season.
Following the above progression will allow the athlete to perform at their best for many years. They will avoid mental burnout and physical ailments. To become elite or lengthen your career, you must make sure to take breaks from training throughout the year.
Sports activity breaks the body down, overworks certain muscles, and it does not illicit the necessary response from others. Without rest, the body cannot repair itself and therefore overuse injuries become prevalent. Athletes are under the impression that the muscles they use most are the ones they need to strengthen often. Many times the opposite is true. The athletes need to train the muscles they don't use during their sport as well as train the small stabilizers that will improve their ability to perform. What about those muscles used all season? They need to rest! Without lack of activity, the body cannot recuperate. People fail to realize that they need more rest, not more practice, in order to improve their performance. A break from the sport allows the mind to rest which translates into the athlete having a greater desire to participate. This break will give any injuries a chance to heal, and will give the athlete an opportunity to cross train.
The highest levels of competitive athletes (professional, Olympians, etc) take time off their sport, they cross train, and even take time off from all activity. How is it that athletes strive to be their best yet fail to train like those who are the top of their game? Athletes often mimic their heroes’ supplements, foods, shoes, and equipment yet they do not follow similar exercise plans. Elite level athletes have clearly defined seasons including an off-season, a pre-season, in-season, and off season. Their training changes to accommodate varying physiological and psychological changes. No high caliber athlete is playing their sport at 100% for 100% of the time.
In the off season, athletes typically rest. They may do some cross training or participate in activities that do not directly resemble their sport. Pre-season is a time to work on muscle imbalances, begin injury pre-habilitation, and start a conditioning program. It is only at the end of the pre-season that sports skills are implemented. In season is where the main focus is the sport and the goal is to peak at the necessary time. Even during this time, the athletes take breaks (not go to practice or weekend tournaments). Post season can mean championships, or simply the winding down of the season. This is a good time to address and rehabilitate any injuries resulting from the season.
Following the above progression will allow the athlete to perform at their best for many years. They will avoid mental burnout and physical ailments. To become elite or lengthen your career, you must make sure to take breaks from training throughout the year.
The case for a bidet
We need a bidet in this building.My suggestion? Let’s remove the toilet from the Peter Brady stall on four and put a bidet in there.
There are already 20 men’s room stalls in the building. And aside from the infamous “Homemade Chili Day” in 2005, there has never been a time when all 20 have been in use at the same time.
Can we not spare one stall for a premium potty experience? A small luxury to promote derriere health?
And four is the perfect floor for it--the guys whose names are on the building sit on that floor and the men’s room has high-quality, executive washroom feel to it. But it’s accessible to schmos like you and me.
Will a bidet solve all our problems? Of course not. As has been documented on this blog many, many, many times, there are some profoundly broken people in this building. A bidet will not help them. Taking a power sprayer to their undercarriage probably wouldn’t help them.
A bidet is for the rest of us. The common man. The every day dumper who just wants to get clean down there. To feel fresh.
Let us unite in this cause, men. We deserve it.
Yet another reason that second floor is the best men's room in the building
Auto-flush. In every stall. That is luxury, people.
Ladies mark their territory
A female reader sent the following photo. Apparently, this sign is posted in the ladies penthouse stall on E level.
It looks like the ladies of E made wanted to encourage visitors to dump on their own floor. (As we all know, E level is a favorite hit-and-run location.) But some smart gal with a pen is encouraging a protest.
It looks like the ladies of E made wanted to encourage visitors to dump on their own floor. (As we all know, E level is a favorite hit-and-run location.) But some smart gal with a pen is encouraging a protest.
Summer Means Sunscreen
As summer rolls around, many people find themselves enjoying the outdoors. Whether outside intentionally to exercise, garden, enjoy a barbecue, or family gathering, warm temperatures and clear days mean constant sun exposure.I'm lucky enough to live in one of the sun capitals of the world (Southern California) so having that big ball of fire in the sky is something we take for granted. Anytime the temperature drops below 70 degrees, out comes the wool caps, ski jackets, and snow boots. Trust me, sometimes 68 is cold and the wind chill makes it feel like 65. Besides, they always keep those Starbucks air conditioned! Perhaps just as silly (and definitely more dangerous) than being bundled up on a semi-cold day, are the folks who shed clothes at the first ray of sun and those who yearn for a deep tan but actually end up with a bad burn.
I am outdoors quite a bit and always apply sunblock before leaving the car or leaving my house. I got into this habit after hanging out with a buddy who always did the same. Now that it is second nature, I cannot believe how many people forget, or refuse to apply anything at all. Skin cancer prefers those with fair skin, but it does not discriminate.
Skin is the biggest organ in the body and the shear surface area gives the sun a big target to hit. Skin elasticity is also affected by UV exposure (the sun has UVA and UVB rays) so those who are looking for a nice complexion now, are setting themselves up for prematurely wrinkled skin. Skin damage can be painful, dangerous, and is easy to avoid. Sunblock should be applied frequently (especially after being exposed to water). The amount should be at least enough to fill a shot glass and it should be applied liberally. Do not forget to cover the face, lips, ears, and hands. Nothing can ruin a vacation or outing like getting sick from too much sun exposure. Even tanning beds pose a risk since they still emit UV rays, but I'll save that rant for another time.
Some statistics show that even one bad burn (ie one that blisters) in children can more than double their risk of getting cancer. We should encourage children to wear sunblock and better yet, we should lead by example when going outdoors. Australians remind us to "slip, slap, slop" when going out into the sun. They recommend we slip on protective clothing, we slap on a hat, and we slop on sunblock. Remember that the effects of the sun are also present when the days are cloudy. You should apply sunblock when in the water, in the snow, and in general when spending extended periods outdoors.
Black (and brown) Tuesday
Something very VERY bad happened in the third floor men’s room yesterday afternoon.
A co-worker came to me with tears in his eyes. Another emailed with the subject line “something died.” A third was so distraught, all he could do was shake his head and point.
Naturally, I had to investigate.
What I found made the Saw movies look like Mary Poppins. It was the bathroom version of torture porn. It made me yearn for the salad days of my E-level discovery.
Within the first two seconds, I realized that if I stayed in there longer than a minute, I was going to throw up.
How to describe the odor? Imagine a corpse, soaked in pickle juice. That corpse is then eaten by a dog who poops it out. That poop is eaten my another dog who then barfs it into a jar of rotten eggs. That jar is then sealed for a thousand years. At the end of that thousand years, the jar is heated up over a methane gas plume. The jar is then opened and the contents are spread on crackers made out of diseased goat pancreas.
It smelled a little like that...only turned up to 11.
Any sane person would have run screaming. But I had to look. I had to see for myself.
What I saw was so foul there is really no way to describe it in a family blog like this. Lets just say that the mystifying splatter pattern that has so thoroughly puzzled me in the past had migrated to the floor and wall. The bowl in the Peter Brady stall was overflowing with filth and, evidence suggested, the contents had made a run for it, hopped to the ground, run up the wall and into the penthouse stall where it proceeded to fill that bowl too.
If you are responsible for any aspect of what took place in third floor men’s room yesterday afternoon GET YOURSELF TO A HOSPITAL. I'm not trying to be funny and I'm not kidding. You are physically and emotionally broken. You need help.
A co-worker came to me with tears in his eyes. Another emailed with the subject line “something died.” A third was so distraught, all he could do was shake his head and point.
Naturally, I had to investigate.
What I found made the Saw movies look like Mary Poppins. It was the bathroom version of torture porn. It made me yearn for the salad days of my E-level discovery.
Within the first two seconds, I realized that if I stayed in there longer than a minute, I was going to throw up.
How to describe the odor? Imagine a corpse, soaked in pickle juice. That corpse is then eaten by a dog who poops it out. That poop is eaten my another dog who then barfs it into a jar of rotten eggs. That jar is then sealed for a thousand years. At the end of that thousand years, the jar is heated up over a methane gas plume. The jar is then opened and the contents are spread on crackers made out of diseased goat pancreas.
It smelled a little like that...only turned up to 11.
Any sane person would have run screaming. But I had to look. I had to see for myself.
What I saw was so foul there is really no way to describe it in a family blog like this. Lets just say that the mystifying splatter pattern that has so thoroughly puzzled me in the past had migrated to the floor and wall. The bowl in the Peter Brady stall was overflowing with filth and, evidence suggested, the contents had made a run for it, hopped to the ground, run up the wall and into the penthouse stall where it proceeded to fill that bowl too.
If you are responsible for any aspect of what took place in third floor men’s room yesterday afternoon GET YOURSELF TO A HOSPITAL. I'm not trying to be funny and I'm not kidding. You are physically and emotionally broken. You need help.
Bikram Yoga: Hate the Sweat
After succumbing to my friend's urging, I joined her for a Bikram yoga class. This is the type of yoga that is held in a heated room and is by no means calm and relaxing. I don't remember being challenged is this fashion while sweating so much! In comparison to other forms of yoga, Bikram is relatively new and has gained a lot of popularity due to the 'promotion' of the art by many celebrities. The emphasis is on being physically demanding with the additional cleansing and challenging aspect of being in a heated (90-105 F degree) room. Throughout the 45-90 minute class, students are taken through 26 poses that the founder created.
Let's look at some other popular forms of yoga. Since the art has been around for thousands of years and has been influenced by every culture, it is hard to find exact facts without coming across some contradiction. Here are forms that are quite popular and interesting.
Hatha yoga is the name given to perhaps the most practiced kind of yoga. Critics argue that what is taught is a combination of many forms of yoga, but the idea behind hatha yoga is to enhance the relationship between mind, body, and spirit. Through various poses, the practitioner develops awareness of their body, concentrates on their breathing, builds strength, and increases their flexibility. Traditionally the practice of hatha yoga includes exercises for staying on a moral path of living, for breathing, for meditation, and for the body. It is this last component of postures, or asanas, that compromise most yoga classes. Depending on the asanas chosen, the class may be calm, relaxing, and leave the practitioner feeling stretched, or it may be more rapid, challenging, and leave the practitioner feeling like they have worked out.
Many health clubs and yoga studios offer power yoga classes in which the intent is to move quickly, and rest very little in between poses. The practitioner will usually feel the routines to be cardiovascularly challenging as well as taxing to their muscular system. A lot of athletes use power yoga in order to strengthen parts of their body that they do not normally target. Typically, power yoga has little concern for meditation, relaxing poses, or making a mind-body connection. Power yoga is without a doubt, vigorous and challenging.
Integral yoga is the name that has been given by some to a practice that tries to incorporate many aspects of yoga under one. As expected, asanas are included as is the practice of meditation and concentration. In an effort to further tune in to on-self, Integral yoga uses chanting or the repetition of mantras (ie saying "om"). The last three components of Integral yoga include building on one's karma by way of performing works without focusing on the return gestures, and Bahkti which uses a deity or leader as a role model in order to attain a higher spiritual status for oneself. Last, there is the practice of Jnana yoga which requires the person to use their intellect and insight (gained from all of the aforementioned) to be realized into freedom.
Thursday we read from your letters...
Potty blogger's inbox was overflowing this week with stories, observations and photos from you, the loyal readers. The reader who sent the email with the subject line “2-foot long colon buster in stall number 1,” you should know that I did not open the zip file full of photos. I’ve said it before and I’ll say again--we don’t publish inside-the-bowl photography. It’s not that kind of a blog.
(The one exception to the rule: if business is discovered in an unusual location—the sink, for example—well, now that’s news. When man bites the dog, you cover it.)
One reader emailed the photo above, showing a pretty dire situation--a double roll failure in the penthouse stall late in the day. It’s a cautionary tale and a good reminder to look before you leap. If you do find yourself post-session and discover yourself without resources, seat covers are an emergency options. Or you can call for help.
Here’s a letter from one straight-talking reader:
“As I was pissing, a person was crapping. I finished pissing and went to the sink to wash up. As I approached the sink, the crapper flushed. The crapper walked by me, gave me the ‘what’s up?’ head nod and said something I didn’t catch, and walked out. Without washing his hands. Thought you should know.”Men, we’ve talked about this before. Washing your hands should be standard operating procedure. Especially after making the poops.
There was this short and sweet gem:
“There’s no toilet brush. I find that problematic.”Problematic, eh Mr. OCD? I mean, I like a clean bowl as much as the next guy, but do I need a brush on standby so I can scrub that sucker to a fine shine before I soil it? Probably not. Now a plunger near the toilet...that’s something I can get behind.
Here's another:
“For the retard throne on 3 (A.K.A. the only one anyone wants to use), who is the fat ass who keeps dislodging the seat cover with their mammoth ass cheeks, thus putting us skinny people at risk of falling in when the now-broken throne cover shifts mid-movement?”Wow. Where to begin with this one?
The penthouse stall is not the “retard throne.” It is a handicap stall designed for people with physical challenges who need a little extra space.
Second, while the penthouse stall is popular, it is not “the only one anyone wants to use,” as has been covered in a previous posting. For example, some men prefer the warm embrace of the Peter Brady stall.
Third, what your are calling the “seat cover” is actually “the seat.” The seat cover” is the white tissue paper that you put down on top of the “the seat” to protect your genitals from absorbing the bacteria left behind by other guy’s genitals. (The fact that you don’t know the difference between the two says everything I need to know about you.)
Fourth, we get it. You’re skinny. Congratulations. Some guys inherited a larger frame from their parents or maybe they have a glandular problem, but that does not mean that they are hell-bent on the destruction of potty property. To suggest otherwise is slanderous and mean spirited.
Finally, we received this from a female reader who, with this, may have earned herself a spot as this blog’s lady correspondent:
“You should know that the ladies of 720 California are here to represent. The other day, I came across a confusing contribution in the ladies room. A monster was poking up above the water line, resting its head on the porcelain like a seal on the rocks. No toilet paper in sight. Did she even try to flush? And if so, did it take the toilet paper but not the deposit? The toilet is like a mailbox, ladies—after you drop your letter in, you check to make sure that it’s gone all the way down.”Good advice, sister. Good advice.
At least two kinds of wrong
This just in from the third floor penthouse stall.
Where to begin?
First of all, I guess you have to give a guy props for using a seat cover. (As we've discussed, not everybody does.) But the seat cover is a one-time-use product, my friend. When you're done with your business, discard the seat cover.
This is usually handled with a simple flush. That's what the punch out in the middle is for--think of it as a rope that helps pull the tissue, which is now damp with your butt sweat, into the plumbing below.
If a flush is not sufficient to dislodge your seat cover, help a brother out, give it a quick peel and try again. Yeah, it's a little gross to handle the tissue, but it's no less gross for the next guy. In fact, I think we can all agree, it's significantly MORE gross for the next guy.
Second, I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to finish up your Nantucket Nectar while in the saddle, but that space behind the bowl is not a designated recycling area.
Chicken and waffles warning
Apparently, a large contingent from the office indulged in chicken and waffles for lunch today.
As a result, no bathroom on any floor is safe this afternoon. Proceed with extreme caution.
As a result, no bathroom on any floor is safe this afternoon. Proceed with extreme caution.
The Tiger Is Gone From My Husband
The tiger is gone from my husband and he is not interested in my body to make romantic intimate love and will not touch me. His testosterone levels are normal. He can get ready ok to perform and make intimate love and he says he is not cheating. He says he is just tired for love making but, finds energy to do all his hobbies.What is wrong with me? I am not ugly, I get hit on all the time by men of all ages, even 20 year olds, I am 35. I am very clean about my body. I am not inhibited sexually and have told him that I would try anything he wants. Continue to Post....
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Soundtrack etiquette
As mentioned in my last entry, loyal readers have not been shy about suggesting topics for this blog. Without a doubt, the number one request has been to cover what I call “soundtrack etiquette.”
The bathroom soundtrack is rich and complicated genre.
At one end of the spectrum, it includes the subtle hey-there’s-somebody-in-one-of-the-stalls audio cues you give when you hear the bathroom door open. Potty Blogger is partial to the exaggerated cough, throat-clear or loud sniff. But I knew a guy once who thought subtlety was overrated and would proudly exclaim “fire in the hole!” when he heard somebody enter.
At the other end of the spectrum (literally) is what I call “butt music.” Now let’s be clear: this is a sub-genre about which there are strong feelings and much debate.
Some believe that such tunes do not deserve an audience. Those people, also known as “the clenchers,” will do almost anything to make sure that nary a peep emits from their stall while someone else is in the bathroom. One colleague recently told me that he takes a fork into the stall with him so that he can stab himself in the thigh if he needs to stifle his orchestra.
But others are equally passionate in their belief that this music is the most beautiful and natural music a person can make. They do not want to hide their light, but rather, share it with the world.
When these people perform, they seem to be saying, “Hey, my time in the saddle is my time. I let myself go 100 percent. If that involves squeaks, wheezes, and toots, and you happen to hear it, so be it. Enjoy the symphony, baby.”
A healthy respect for your colonic instrument is one thing, but there are certainly some who take this point-of-view to an unhealthy, exhibitionist extreme. We’ve all found ourselves in a stall next to one of these guys--the ones who grunt, and struggle and emit sounds more commonly associated with the slaughterhouse than the business chamber. We get it, Tchaikovsky--you’re a musical prodigy with your ass flute. Bravo.
Let us all remember that musical tastes vary. One man’s gag-inducing bun warbler is another man’s symphony. Vive la difference!
The bathroom soundtrack is rich and complicated genre.
At one end of the spectrum, it includes the subtle hey-there’s-somebody-in-one-of-the-stalls audio cues you give when you hear the bathroom door open. Potty Blogger is partial to the exaggerated cough, throat-clear or loud sniff. But I knew a guy once who thought subtlety was overrated and would proudly exclaim “fire in the hole!” when he heard somebody enter.
At the other end of the spectrum (literally) is what I call “butt music.” Now let’s be clear: this is a sub-genre about which there are strong feelings and much debate.
Some believe that such tunes do not deserve an audience. Those people, also known as “the clenchers,” will do almost anything to make sure that nary a peep emits from their stall while someone else is in the bathroom. One colleague recently told me that he takes a fork into the stall with him so that he can stab himself in the thigh if he needs to stifle his orchestra.
But others are equally passionate in their belief that this music is the most beautiful and natural music a person can make. They do not want to hide their light, but rather, share it with the world.
When these people perform, they seem to be saying, “Hey, my time in the saddle is my time. I let myself go 100 percent. If that involves squeaks, wheezes, and toots, and you happen to hear it, so be it. Enjoy the symphony, baby.”
A healthy respect for your colonic instrument is one thing, but there are certainly some who take this point-of-view to an unhealthy, exhibitionist extreme. We’ve all found ourselves in a stall next to one of these guys--the ones who grunt, and struggle and emit sounds more commonly associated with the slaughterhouse than the business chamber. We get it, Tchaikovsky--you’re a musical prodigy with your ass flute. Bravo.
Let us all remember that musical tastes vary. One man’s gag-inducing bun warbler is another man’s symphony. Vive la difference!
The Plank: your new favorite workout
Unlike a traditional sit-up, the plank works not only your external abdominal muscles, but also internal abdominal muscles - often referred to as your core stabilizers. Strong internal abdominal muscles assist in better posture, improved balance, a healthy back and, of course, a flatter stomach.
As with any exercises, it's important to begin with a strong understanding of the fundamentals. In this case, the fundamentals are the basic plank and the iso-plank, also known as the modified plank. To do a basic plank start on your hands and knees. Engage your abdominal and glute muscles. Align your wrists under your shoulders and your knees under your hips. One at a time, extend your legs so that your body weight is supported by your hands and feet. You are now in the plank position. Keep your abdominal and glute muscles tight. By keeping your abdominal muscles tight, you avoid movement of your hips towards the floor. Also, be sure that your spine stays straight all the way through your neck. A common tendency is to drop the head and hips to relax the abdominal muscles. This places stress on your back and diminishes the returns of your abdominal workout. Hold in the plank position for as long as you can maintain proper form. Rest by returning to your hands and knees. Repeat the exercise.
The iso-plank can be just as effective for your abdominal muscles, while placing less emphasis on upper body strength. To do an iso-plank lie on your stomach. Align your elbows under your shoulders. Engage your abdominal and glute muscles to pull your body off the ground so that you are resting on your elbows and toes. To avoid stress on your back keep your neck and hips in line with your spine. Hold the iso-plank for as long as you can maintain proper form. Repeat the exercise.
Movements can be added to the plank and iso-plank to make the positions more difficult, to challenge abdominal stabilizing muscles and to use a wider range of muscles. My personal favorite plank variation exercise combines the plank and the iso-plank to engage core stabilizers and increase upper body strength and agility. In this abdominal exercise you move from the plank position to the iso-plank position and back as quickly as possible. Always continue to maintain proper form in compound exercises.
Concentrate on keeping your abdominal and glute muscles engaged. As the name of this abdominal exercise suggests, your body should have a straight alignment. Don't let your hips drop (or rise) and keep your neck in-line with your spine. Good form is the key to a successful plank workout.
Resources:
Len Kravitz, Ph.D, Super Abs Resource Manual, c 1998,
http://www.unm.edu/~lkravitz/Article%20folder/abdominal.html
Some suggestions
There are certain occupational hazards that come with potty blogging.
For example, it forces you to pay attention to some pretty gruesome crime scenes. Do I want to look into a bowl that looks like it hasn’t been flushed since 2008? No. But if I don’t look into that abyss, who will tell the tale?
One unfortunate side effects of the blog is that a certain number of loyal readers have discovered my true identity are constantly suggesting topics.
“There’s a major deuce in the handicap stall. You should check it out.”
“You gonna do an entry about the super dark pee on three?”
“Yesterday, guy in the stall next to me muttered ‘help me’ while squeezin’ one out. I can give you his name if you want to write about it.”
These are all wonderful suggestions. Thank you. It’s gratifying to know that so many share my passion for the pageantry of our restrooms. But perhaps shouting ideas across a crowded office is not the best venue for an editorial pitch.
Let me introduce you to the comment section on this blog. Think if it as your tip line. You can post anonymously and I read all of them.
While we’re on the topic of suggestions, let me make one myself: wash your hands, men.
Today, I saw a colleague--somebody whom I respected--finish his business and head straight for the door.
Now, I’ve heard all the excuses, the most common one being: “I just went number one and only touched my front. If I washed my hands every time I touched Mr. Lincoln, I’d be at the sink all day.”
Men, making a number one is not a free pass from hand washing. If you’ve done anything in the men’s room, let a session at the sink be your final act. They put the basins by the door for a reason: to remind you that you should use them on your way out.
As for my disgusting colleague, who shall remain nameless, I shamed him into washing his hands. This time. But I am not on patrol 24/7. You have to police yourselves, men.
Let’s be careful out there.
For example, it forces you to pay attention to some pretty gruesome crime scenes. Do I want to look into a bowl that looks like it hasn’t been flushed since 2008? No. But if I don’t look into that abyss, who will tell the tale?
One unfortunate side effects of the blog is that a certain number of loyal readers have discovered my true identity are constantly suggesting topics.
“There’s a major deuce in the handicap stall. You should check it out.”
“You gonna do an entry about the super dark pee on three?”
“Yesterday, guy in the stall next to me muttered ‘help me’ while squeezin’ one out. I can give you his name if you want to write about it.”
These are all wonderful suggestions. Thank you. It’s gratifying to know that so many share my passion for the pageantry of our restrooms. But perhaps shouting ideas across a crowded office is not the best venue for an editorial pitch.
Let me introduce you to the comment section on this blog. Think if it as your tip line. You can post anonymously and I read all of them.
While we’re on the topic of suggestions, let me make one myself: wash your hands, men.
Today, I saw a colleague--somebody whom I respected--finish his business and head straight for the door.
Now, I’ve heard all the excuses, the most common one being: “I just went number one and only touched my front. If I washed my hands every time I touched Mr. Lincoln, I’d be at the sink all day.”
Men, making a number one is not a free pass from hand washing. If you’ve done anything in the men’s room, let a session at the sink be your final act. They put the basins by the door for a reason: to remind you that you should use them on your way out.
As for my disgusting colleague, who shall remain nameless, I shamed him into washing his hands. This time. But I am not on patrol 24/7. You have to police yourselves, men.
Let’s be careful out there.
The ol’ switcheroo?
There are certainly no shortage of how-the-hell-did-he-do-that moments in fourth floor men’s room. I have seen things that make me question my own anatomy.
But this one...it almost hurts my feelings it’s so confusing.
I’m talking about a chocolate spatter pattern...on the front edge of the bowl.
Think about that one for a minute, will you?
The bowl had been flushed. The only evidence of prior use: three tire tracks down the front edge of the bowl.
How does that happen? I’ve been turning it over and over in my mind and the only possible explanation is this: Somebody that works on the fourth floor has had his anus and his penis switched.
I know that’s a strong accusation. I don’t make it lightly. It is simply the only plausible explanation for what I saw. One of my co-workers moved his exit to the front. I have no idea why.
If you are this medical marvel, please leave a comment and help us understand.
But this one...it almost hurts my feelings it’s so confusing.
I’m talking about a chocolate spatter pattern...on the front edge of the bowl.
Think about that one for a minute, will you?
The bowl had been flushed. The only evidence of prior use: three tire tracks down the front edge of the bowl.
How does that happen? I’ve been turning it over and over in my mind and the only possible explanation is this: Somebody that works on the fourth floor has had his anus and his penis switched.
I know that’s a strong accusation. I don’t make it lightly. It is simply the only plausible explanation for what I saw. One of my co-workers moved his exit to the front. I have no idea why.
If you are this medical marvel, please leave a comment and help us understand.
Thanks, but no thanks
This morning, a "generous" soul left his copy of Road & Track on the floor in the penthouse stall of fourth floor men's room.Need to drop a load but are also dying to find out how the new Porsche handled on the test track? Thankfully, there is one location where you can do both.
Seriously, guys. It's been said before, but it bears repeating: this is not a library.
Think about it. If the magazine is left on the ground close enough to the toilet so you can reach down and pick it up while you're in the middle of your business, it's in "the splash zone" and should not be handled.
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