March 8, 2007

We have powder rooms rather than multi-stall bathrooms at Workplace, which is usually really nice, except for when I open the door and am greeted with the Ghost of Feces Past, or worse, discover the visual evidence of someone’s digestive system turning a lazy circle in the toilet bowl.

I often wish there was some easy way of communicating to other drivers from my own car, an LED sign on a window somewhere that displays “THANK YOU” or “SUCK IT”, whichever is most appropriate for the situation at hand, and in a similar vein I’d like a sign in the bathroom that lights up once I leave and the next person comes in. It would read, “LINDA’S BUTT DID NOT DO THIS.”

You know what I mean? I hate the idea that somebody else is going to think it was me that left it smelling like a paper mill. Sure, you can spray the little can of citrus crap around, but that really just makes everything smell like someone spent a few hours in there gruntingly passing a lemon through their colon.

As for Turdzilla in the toilet, I have no explanation for this. We all hate to stand around whistling while we wait for Flush #2, if Flush #1 does not finalize the job in a satisfactory manner, but come ON. Don’t leave it for the next person to deal with. I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to smell it, and I don’t want to be forced to acknowledge its presence as I gingerly reach for the handle. I especially don’t want to be haunted by its girth, and find myself idly wondering just how much fiber a person has to consume in order to produce such a kielbasa-sized cylinder of horror.

Once I moseyed into the women’s room, found a Disturbing Remnant and flushed, only to watch in utter dismay as the water rose, and rose, and rose . . . and stopped just below the rim of the lid, while Things swirled ominously. What’s a person to do in that situation? I was panicked and sweaty and all I could think was, that’s not even my turd. There’s a hysterical David Sedaris essay about his encounter with an unflushable turd in the bathroom at a friend’s party, and I remembered how he dealt with it: by breaking it into pieces with the handle of a plunger.

Which I did not try because oh my god. No. Just, no.

Instead, I exited and told the person in charge of dealing with such toilet issues, making sure to defensively state at least 295719 times that it was like that when I got there, I swear to god, I mean I can prove it because all I had for breakfast was a bowl of cereal and clearly this person had a five-course meal with COFFEE AT THE END.

I’m sure she totally believed me. Riight.

In other non-shit-related news, my petri dish of a child gave me a rotten cold, and the only medicine that actually makes me feel partially human is Sudafed, which is now a CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE and you have to show your ID and wait forty hundred thousand billion hours for the clerk to laboriously enter all your information in the secret government database in order to buy it. Suck.

Also, I’ve been washing my face with honey (rub it in, leave it for a minute, then rinse) at night for the last week and my skin feels super soft and awesome. I know it sounds weird, but you should try it out! Bee vomit is the best.


63 Responses to “Crude offerings”

  1. Emily Ann on March 9th, 2007 9:39 am

    Linda, I’m a marathon lurker of your site and today, I had to comment because this is by far the funniest entry I’ve ever read on the face of the planet. A couple girlfriends and I were just discussing this EXACT predicament at work just yesterday. You definitely put it best!!!!!!!!!!!

  2. M.A. on March 9th, 2007 9:41 am

    Hilarious. Totally. As a Facilities Manager I deal with these issues all the time — *I* am that person you call to deal with Cynthia, who clearly went on a tremendous Jaeger binge the night before and wrapped up the evening with Ex-lax, and barely made it to the toilet, and well… nevermind. Just recently (and I am dead serious) we had a complaint come in to us about (get this, kiddilies) “Brown Air” and it was suggested that we place cans of “Butt-be-Gone Air Neutralizer” in all bathrooms. Capital idea. Still doesn’t help me deal with Cynthia and the “wall of horror” behind the toilet in stall #2. Ah, such a glamerous job. (LOVE the David Sedaris story on this topic — especially when he was contemplating throwing it out the window.) Ow — my tummy hurts from laughing! Also, the honey thing — cool idea! I shortly contemplated having Bella lick it off my face as a special treat, but then I remembered what Bella does with that tongue of hers all day long….

  3. M.A. on March 9th, 2007 9:49 am

    Jem, yes. They do. There’s really nothing you can do about it. Instead, do what I do — say cheerfully “PHEW! That was a record-breaker! I’d avoid stall #3 if I were you! HOOOOO-eeeee!” I have no shame.

    One more thing: squatters. I want to put up a sign that says roughly: “Ladies, seriously. I know I can get crabs and all kinds of butt germs when I sit, but I am a SITTER. My ass is clean, trust me. If you insist on hovering over the toilet and spraying pee all over the seat (and probably yourself — I don’t know how that can be avoided), while I admire your sturdy thigh muscles, please at least wipe the friggin’ seat when you’re done. Thank you, Facilities” I’d almost rather get crabs then know I have a ring of someone else’s pee in a ring around my butt all day.

  4. Yams on March 9th, 2007 10:34 am

    Not sure if you’ve ever seen an Indian-Style toilet. Basically just a hole in the ground but we don’t run into the issues like the one you mentioned. Gravity helps send everything down and there is no water to splish-plash things around in. We also use water instead of toilet paper, much more eco friendly. BUT, that’s why we greet people with a Namaste and not shake hands (if you get my drift :)

  5. Josh on March 9th, 2007 1:46 pm

    You should take a picture of the turd and put up flyers around the office requesting that the owner please take care of their shit before shit hits the fan. And then send out memos requesting that all persons who insist on eating large meals for breakfast please use the restroom located in the far corner of the storage basement, behind the boiler room. And when they’re done they still need to flush twice. And then just curse for a while. Profanity helps people understand the seriousness of the situation.

  6. Steve Wilson on March 10th, 2007 1:14 am

    You’re all lightweights… except for Kate. Spend some time in the men’s locker room… or in the can at halftime at a Bear’s game… or on an aircraft carrier… or… well, I don’t know about this one, but I bet the shuttle’s a lot of fun.

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