Saturday, September 3, 2016

Unrepentant Restroom Rage‏‏

The following is result of Operation Blog Recovery (Of what I could retrieve): The following content is collected from a platform that is no longer operational. Gaps and spaces in the formatted text could be the result of broken and/or expired emoticons, links or web-hosted pictures. You can be assured that the opinions and thoughts expressed are from the original writing. Hell, I’m not even going to correct spelling or grammar. Enjoy! Or not.

Originally posted on 1/13/2010

Current mood:  irritated
Category: Life


Okay, this entry won't have my usual theatrical zeal but I needed to express this. In fact, this subject had been avoided long enough by me.  It's 2010 for crying-out-loud, I think it's high time we (clean folks) lobby for some appropriate public restroom rules.  This is war people, this is an all-out assault on the senses that should not be taken lightly! In my opinion, the egregious breaches of restroom etiquette I write of here, should be punishable by fines beginning at $300  and jail time for habitual offenders.  The restroom rage welling within me had been building for some time now. I tried my best to be benevolently blind to the atrocities of the public restroom but I can no longer hide my disdain. My most recent restroom episode started early yesterday morning. I'm sure it's happened to you; you're sitting there minding your own business and some territorial Stall Nazi leers at you through the space between the doors to see if their 'favorite' stall is occupied, despite having 24 other unoccupied stalls to choose from. Well yesterday, some creepy chick leered at me a little too long as we locked eyes through the 1 inch crack. As I sat there, I got so irritated by her unmitigated gall, that I responded to her Peeping Tom antics by loudly shouting "Daaamn!" Yep, I caught her uncomfortably long & lingering gaze and she had no reply. She quickly scurries away like a cockroach running from light. While I was sitting there fuming, I started practicing the brutal EvilEye look I was gonna give her when I could catch her outside. My facial expression was gonna be a subtle yet stern mix of irritation, anger and adversarial admonishment but I never got a chance to use it.  I think she was so embarrassed by my bold outburst, that she walked through the other EMPTY side of the restroom and right out the exit door. After our encounter, I never heard a stall door open or close, just the exit door. (There were only 2 of us in there at the time.) She must have known it was coming so she high-tailed it outta there pronto! She did the right thing. She did the best thing for herself if she didn't want to be known as the socially-awkward Girl-Gazing Bathroom Bandit & Toilet-Dweller for the remainder of her employment there. My change in diet had spurred an increase in my coffee consumption  because I want to boost my metabolism and reduce my cravings for delectable desserts (sweetened with Splenda™, of course).  Are my rewards worth this kind of sacrifice though? I mean, sure, I can now see the top of my feet while standing up without bending over or taking a deep breath in (and holding it) but at what cost? For those that don't know, coffee is a diuretic, which means it 'causes an increased urine output' (among other kinds of output). For that reason, I find myself in that blasted place more times than I'd care to count.  Public restrooms have always "creeped" me out and now, I'm forced to use them. The things I'm complaining about today, always happen but they rarely happen all at the same time on ONE restroom visit. Disgusting. Every stall rejection I've ever made was based on some very real issues I think need to be aired. Today was one of the worst days yet. One-by-one, I angrily & instantly flung open the doors of the rejected stalls without remorse, until I found one that wouldn't make me wretch.  Not an easy task.  I avidly abandoned stall after stall while mumbling sarcastic questions to myself. See below.(°This is slightly graphic but necessary. Proceed with caution.°) 

°Stall 1, "Are you kidding?! That nasty chick couldn't wipe that off?" 

°Stall 2, "Good lawd! What the hell did she eat?!"

°Stall 3, "That smell! I doubt anything over-the-counter will cure that. She doesn't know she smells like something rotten crawled up in her and died?!"

°Stall 4, "Man! What's that mark on the back of the seat? Did she think washing the inside of her crack was unnecessary, off-limits or taboo?"  

°Stall 5, "Well hell. I guess this is better than going on myself, right?"

My unrepentant restroom rage isn't just aimed at women either. This past Saturday, I went into the men's restroom (don't ask) and found myself in a stall that looked like someone spontaneously sneezed and spewed, however, the "spew" didn't come from their mouth. I was so repulsed that I ran out of the restroom door like Marion Jones on performance-enhancing drugs and told no one of my nauseating nightmare...until now.   Violators, I beg you, have mercy please? This entry is really dedicated to you. Since you don't care about the public at large, think about this from a personal point-of-view. If you're leaving urine droplets, strange markings that look like ancient cave drawings (i.e. 'crack paint') or miscellaneous other disgusting and/or visually unidentifiable body secretions on the toilet seat, what the hell do you think you're leaving on the inside of your own underwear? 




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