“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.”
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
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