5 Public Bathroom Practices That Make Me Think I'm Not Human

      When I seriously doubt I'm human it usually stems from misunderstanding common phrases like "I have lupus." and "Give me a pearl necklace." Often I move among people with a dazed kind of "What the hell is wrong with all of this?!" look on my face and avoiding skin on skin contact. My relationship with my fellow human beings is an awkward one at best.

      It seems like every day something is added to the long list of possible evidence of my non-humanity I keep in my head. Things like: when not to kill a cat, golf shoes and Oprah are among the more notable contents. Well, now, if it wasn't a cause for concern before, it is now, "bathroom behaviors" can be lumped in there too. The most horrifying conundrum I've had, when confronting my supposed kinship with my human brethren, is when a fucking bathroom comes into play. Who would have thought?

So, in the spirit of piss and shit, I offer you my desperate need to understand the human condition and my place among the humanity in terms of toilet usage. Enjoy.

Pissing On Seats

Pictured: Bastard.

      From time to time, I like to imagine I've lived on the frayed edge of sanity and survived. I've swam naked (accidentally), kicked puppies (accidentally) and told children they were "fugly"..."birth defect fugly", to their faces (on purpose). Before you start uproaring or whatever it is you Internet people do, relax, it was a birthday party and that ugly child got a damned present. Shut up.

Besides, they didn't cry the WHOLE day. Jesus.

      So, evidence infers that I know what it's like to do things against the grain. Especially the grainy surface of sanity, if there were to be such a surface, that is.

When it comes to urinating, however, I'm pretty conservative and anti-crazy. I've always figured, the goal was to make the least mess possible. If it wasn't, we could pee anywhere, which, all in all would be damned convenient. Way more convenient than building bathrooms, but, also, way, way, way more smelly.

Hence, I try to keep it within the confines of the bowl. It's only right and it keeps other people from drinking it (I hope). So, when I see a toilet seat that looks like it's been in a piss fueled down pour, I have to question the reality that allowed that to happen. Well, more over, the freakish fuck head that sprayed it down at all. Yellow washing a toilet seat is a touch of asshole insanity I just can't wrap my head around. 

Despite the obvious disregard for the ass of fellow men, what does leaving a sea of personal gold, say about a person? Are there aiming issues? Can't they handle their own penis/vagina? Is it that unwieldy? Perhaps they're new to penises. This revelation leads me to believe that 90% of the male human population just recently received gender re-assignment surgery. The other 10% have scopes grafted to their John Thomas's...like me.

Let's get with it penis converts! Aiming a dick is like pointing a small hose at a tiny pond. If the stream is straying too far one way, guide it in the other. If you happen to leave your golden shower all over the stall, it's time to A) re-evaluate your urination procedures and B) Wipe some shit down! No one wants to walk into a potential slip hazard because you can't pee straight. Holy shit.

This of course excludes the blind. The blind piss everywhere, they can't help it. I'm not insensitive.

Shit Writing.

That. Pretty much says it all.

      Nothing denotes a person's reaction to adversity quite like needing to take a dump while in public. The harried look of "Oh,...god...no." flashes across the face, a cold sweat breaks out as the brain rallies to the gastrointestinal meltdown.

      "This shit is happening...sooooon" screams the mind. Eyes darting back and forth, searching for the nearest bathroom, the whole time wondering; How much butt clenching can I get away with before it becomes embarrassingly noticeable?" 

      Willing yourself to shit in a public restroom is triumph enough, everywhere you look in a bathroom is a surface ordained by God to breed filthy, filthy diseases. Doubly so in a public bathroom! So, forcing yourself to overcome that amount of gross and take that leap and dump takes a lot out of a person. It's taxing.

Then, to glance at the wall next to you and see the words "Shit happened.", written using actual shit. Something in you dies a little. A screaming vile death.

Those words, scrawled using that substance...it's...it's an incredibly small glimpse, into a far off apocalypse. One filled with fire, people covered in feces and scrap metal shaped into dragons, also on fire. The end of days before mankind is sucked into Hell...forever.

What possesses a person to knowingly write with their own shit? You have to willingly finger your own shit, KNOWING it's shit and then, decide the best thing to do is "tag" a fucking wall with it? What must have happened to a person like that to such depths of turmoil, as to think that's okay? Other than being a hostage situation or the age of 3, shit writing isn't acceptable. It's ghastly.

Unless you're retarded, then, it's okay. Hostage, aged 3 or retarded, then it's acceptable to write with your own shit. I'm not insensitive.

Shitty Trash

 
Note: Never shit with your pants pulled up...it doesn't work. 
It never makes it into the toilet. I promise.

      It seems to be, that every wonderful beach front bliss of a land is not only a third world country, but, incompetent when it comes to plumbing that country. Which, is a total mystery to me, being as they're usually tourist attractions and most often located or surrounded by extremely large bodies of water.

Bodies of water which can easily be shat into.

Troublesome plumbing seems to have a spill over effect into more well constructed, well plumbed areas, however. The biggest being waste paper baskets filled with toilet paper coated in someone's fresh ass leavings. 

Why would anyone do this? There's a perfectly functioning toilet with which to dispose of your pasty remnants. Toss it in and flush! It's understandable that if the country you're used to defecating in, is wholly behind in the ways of modern water works, toilet wise, than the better flushing one you're in now. There's confusion? What if I clog the toilet?! AmIright?

      I advise taking a risk and tossing it down the potty. If the country you're in can devote a large portion of it's television scheduling to reality t.v., it's usually a good indicator of whether it's safe to flush (if they can afford to devote that much time to watching stupid people, chances are they've licked the toilet clogging problem). You needn't worry about contributing to the fouling of the local drinking supply. 

      So, upon landing in a new country, turn on the "tele", "t.v." or magic light box of choice and if reality freaks are whoring themselves for the approval of the unwashed masses, feel free to give your log some flush justice, with a side of paperwork. 

Though, if you're in a country whose favorite delicacies range from dog to fetus, you might want to rethink your flushing options. 

Do some research before you shit in a different country is all I'm saying.

Eating And Dumping

 

 Never mind the piss...the food is delish!

      I'm a reasonable man, prone to tiny, infinitesimal epiphanies leading to more eloquent, efficient solutions to life's little dilemmas. I know what it is to shave in the shower, as well as brush my teeth. Not at the same time, for I am not an octopus, nor a hygienic multi-armed beast, bred to steal children's thoughts as they sleep.

      Regardless, I never thought it suitable to eat, whilst dropping a deuce. Never, ever, ever...okay, wait, once, but, I was heavily intoxicated and the food tasted like shit anyway and I still didn't eat while crapping. I can appreciate the inventive convenience of the scenario, but, what the hell are people thinking?

      I, myself, have never found an aroma wafting through the hallowed stalls of dumpdom that stirred me to eat. It's always been close to the opposite. Everything from the ammonia (both store bought and domestically made) to the power shit fumes that would make a hobo gag, scream do not eat here...ever. 

      Yet, on occasion, I've found various food stuffs sprinkled about bathrooms. I've seen everything from bags of chips and sodas to full on plates, fucking PLATES of food! Who in the fuck does this and why haven't we all agreed to neuter them, for fear of passing this trait onto future generations? The world may never know.

The only people that get a pass on eating in the bathroom is the blind. They don't know any better and eat willy nilly anywhere they please. Especially in restaurants. The blind have no idea where they are, at any given time. 

Conversing And Shit.

 

"So...(uhhhgh) he broke up with you...(guuhhh *plop*) because of that? 

He's fucked up, girl.

 

      The bathroom experience is as old as time itself. Be it, dropping your used food lumps or spraying down a forest environ, relieving yourself is a time honored, physical need that must be done always. 

To facilitate this, God, evolution or Smokey Robinson and The Miracles have made waste ejection a solo effort. I see it as a streamlining effort, but, I've never designed a species, what do I know.

      Alas, even if you don't partake in going old school; shitting in the forest like a rabbit and prefer a more regal facilities that limit squatting, it's not a group effort. It never has been. It, like death, is a solitary endeavor and like dying, can involve pain, embarrassing noises and shitting of one's self...all over the place. Is this to be shared with others, either with phone conversations, general banter with another porcelain patron or loud unadulterated proclamations like "Holy shit I think I just ripped a foot long hole in my ass!"? No.

No. No. No. Dammit, no.

      A human voice, other than singing in a shower (which is bizarre enough) should never enter those elaborately tiled walls. Doubly so, in public, as the embarrassment of doing, what is normally a private concern, among strangers is almost beyond measure for the lot of us.  

      Despite normalcy saying otherwise, individuals hold conversations, often with strangers, while "dropping the Browns off at the pool". What manner of madness is this? Leave decent people to make dump and wee to their own devices! Keep the interruption of "golden showers" and shit to yourself! Stop talking to me while you're pants free and manipulating your junk, dammit! Your vocal noises are un-needed.

      I know, women do this all the time, traveling in packs to do their lavatory deeds, like gossiping wolves or...I don't know, geese? Something that groups and probably bathroom's together...one of those. Still, that's a whole other story and one of the leading examples of why women don't and will never make any sense to anyone. Ever.

      Personally, I believe that people who must speak while in the motions of bathroom business have no friends and view bathrooms as having a captive friend finding audience. Catching victims like a cornered puppy in a pre-school, petting people with conversations that interest no one. To anyone that ends up in a situation like this, a solution: fight crazy with crazy. Pee on them while screaming incoherently. Done.

I have a feeling that this would only exacerbate the issue and they'll answer with a "I know, right!".

Of course this excludes deaf people. They don't understand when and where silence is required as they don't understand sound. They're deaf. I'm not insensitive.

Denoument

 

 Because shitting on gold is well...shitting on gold! 

      I know I'll never change the world. In fact, I'm fairly sure I've made it worse on numerous occasions. Despite that, I believe in ability to change is within every human being, especially when it comes to dropping a Cleveland Browns touchdown at the Water Bowl. 

If we can all get together and hammer out a few simple rules, I fully believe that it will go a long way to cementing my oneness with my species and not make me believe I'm from an alternate reality. Hell, it might even domino into other, previously inconceivable things we never thought we could fix. Things like: blindness, , deafness, retardation, more blindness and blind monkeys without A.I.D.S.

{It is at this point where the song "We Are The World" should be playing in your head}

Let's make this happen, mother fuckers!

Neighbors: What The Shit Do They Want?

      Yesterday, I and my neighbor had a spat. They, more or less, accused my humble canine of urinating repeatedly on their doorstep. I, of course, rebutted the accusation with a firm but, calm, "Fuck yourself, testicle licking shit bag.". I, am not one for flippant and belligerent finger pointing. Which I emphasized by flipping them off and threatening to knuckle punch their grandmother. A woman, whom I respect greatly for having conferred, personally, with Jesus, lived through the crusades and black plague and managed to become a bitch. Most notably she's also earned the title of "steamy pile of cunt" from the local chamber of commerce. After, said confrontation, I retreated back to my homestead to fume and also, bask in the glory of scathing, witty blows which were deftly executed by me. Also, I found myself pondering the very nature of "neighbor". I knew not, these people's names. Yet, there I was embroiled in a full on argument with them. This was my only interaction with them and it was brought on by "urination accusation". Which by the way, they were mistaken, for I was the one peeing on their door. The only defense I can offer is they are obnoxious, especially after a bottle and a half of Mexico's finest Tequila. I was drunk. Which, as I have explained before, isn't a valid excuse. What I did was inexcusable. From now on, I'll just stick to shitting. I promise.

See, a sorry face crafted with my own dump. 

What...uh...this means, It means I care. The title?

Shit face sorry? Face sorry shit? You decide.

      Why don't we know our neighbors? Are they dangerous? I mean, other than building shoddy meth labs in their basements. Probably not. Is it a belief that we, as individuals, should be autonomous? If that were true, who would do all the door pissing? It would be insane to pee on your own door step. Are we animals whizzing on our own domiciles? What has happened to the world? Some believe it to be a show of affluence, to ignore your neighbors. Like, we're better than those sorry bastards that live next door. They smell like door shit and look like trolls. This of course, isn't true. Well, I hope it's not. I think on some primal level we realize we all live in the same shitty neighborhood. Are you better than the whiny, ass monkey next door? No. We're all here and we're all queer. No. Wait. Not all queer, but, I'm assuming some of...okay...let me refine that: "We're all here and some of us (who are not me) are in fact queer.". That totally fucked up that sweet rhyme scheme. Dammit. 

I'm taking a survey: Here? Queer? or...both?

I'll put you down both...sexy.

      Today, we live among strangers in our own midst. It shouldn't be this way. It would be beneficial to you to go out and meet with these fellow neighborhoodians. I am speaking to the more adventurous among us to reach out, of course. I myself am terrified of human interaction to the point of being social retarded. My interactions, with other people, have deteriorated significantly over the years. Now, I believe when spoken to directly, my responses have been reduced to grunts, low growls and South Park quotes spoken out of context. All of which are followed with an awkward smile and a thrusting of my pelvis to accent my genitalia. This is a show of respect, no? I have never had clarification,  as whomever I've tried to "speak" with, has run away in abject horror...screaming. That reaction means "have a great day", yes? Ehh...I didn't think so. Damnit. Now I'll never be voted "King of The Neighborhood Watch". What? No kings? Then, what the fuck did those people want?

Uh..."Just like the victims of breast cancer there's something I'd like to get off my chest"

...pelvic thrust...GENITALS!

      So, go and talk to your neighbors, people. They're mostly harmless, I assure you. I know, because I observe them quietly from in between partially opened curtains, with binoculars. They seem nice. Rarely to they flail their appendages and fling their shit around. I think you'd like them. Bake a cake and take it over, start a conversation about "damned politicians" and how they run things into grounds. You'll smile, they'll smile and all will be right with the world. Then, when the time comes to defend yourselves against the unwashed immigrant hordes (Which, I am assured by the conservatives, are arriving any day.), you'll have partners with which to defend your scrappy, rough and tumble swath of land. If worse comes to worse, at the very least they'll be around to trip up and be used as a human buffer. A buffer for the barbarians to consume, as you make your escape. There's nothing wrong with that, right?

You look slow and weak. Would you like to be friends, neighbor?

They'd Sell Your Ass With 4 Easy Payments!

      Through my many sleepless nights, I, somewhere along the line, developed a fondness for infomercials. The bad acting, the pseudo science, the selling of shit no one needs. They are a comedy all their own. The products they push range from books containing shit we can get for free to simple machines that make a job harder to medicines that will damn near kill us. They sell it in a way that's always over the top with idiocy that both entertains and frightens.

Guaranteed not to melt your dick off or no money back!

      Over the years, I have seen tons of these fucking things. Within them all is  a thread of hilarity that, I feel, goes largely missed. It's almost a secret code. If you break that code, you get that full scope of the "hoooly shit that's fucking funny" that lurks inside. It's like the super sweet strawberry milk at the bottom of the glass. You know, the Nestle powder that settles...you know. Don't look at me all cock eyed. You like it too! Regardless, to get to that chewy funny infomercial nougat, all you have to do is apply a little logic. What hell am I talking about? Well, take for instance...

BOSE Knows!

                            

"...and in the case of music even make you cry."

      I'm aware that BOSE is trying to sell me a better sound system. I get that. The funny part is the repeated proclamation that you can't hear how awesome it is, because you're listening to the commercial, on your shit ass t.v. That's why you won't hear the difference. So, how do you know the shit is worth it? Buy it. How's that for a sales pitch! I like how they kinda glaze over the cost issue too. Why would anyone not want this shit? Hm...because it's insanely expensive? No. It's because people don't like wiring shit. THAT'S why people don't buy better sound equipment. Those fucking wires and color schemes fuck us all up. Yeah, BOSE. You nailed it. It's the wiring that has my balls in a twist. 

YOU KNOW WHAT'S HEALTHY? DIARRHEA.

"...am I gonna have tah camp out in the rest room? Will I have the runs?"

      Nothing says, I love myself and the world around me like a good case of herbal shits. Time and time again, products are presented the shits as a way to purge your body of "toxins" and "tiredness". It rejuvenates the body, makes hair shiny, your blood un-tired, you skip a little more, run like a track star and you lose the equivalent of a small child in weight due to crapping yourself like a diseased Ethiopian...on purpose. Though, it's not a laxative. They never are. They say they are everything but a laxative, even though they are in fact...shit-tastic, toilet destroying laxatives. Oh, another hint folks...if they use the word "colon" to sell the pill and they're not talking about punctuation, it's going to give you the power shits. This Dual Colon Cleanse thing goes to great lengths to explain the awesomeness of shitting uncontrollably via medication. They even bring in testimony from people that have been using this shit making...shit. My favorite is the "shit examination" portion of the smarmy doctor's Q&A. By far the funniest shit about shitting is the shit about the guy they infer lived 152 years because he shit a lot. Shit.

LET'S MAKE MATH FAST AND FREAKISH! 

"...tap into this power, deep down inside us 

and we just don't know how to turn it on."

      Who here hates math? Yeah, FUCK MATH! Right? Who seriously uses math every day to the elevated levels we learned in school? Yeah, me either. Well, what if I told you there was a way...you could do some of the easier math backwards, confusing as hell and stupid fast and you'd have to pay for it? You'd tell me to fuck right off a cliff and the only math you'd do, would be counting the seconds til my screaming stopped. Well, Amazing Discoveries, an infomercial from waaay back thought we'd do just that. Not the cliff screaming, the...buy fast math horse shit. It's hilarity lies in the shame they try to make you feel for not being good at math. They even have a gang of people who "called in and ADMITTED they were POOR in math.". Have you ever cared about your mathematical ability to call a stranger and voice your concern about it? No? Me either. I have a calculator to make up the difference. Though, I must admit, it would be a neat skill to whip out now and again. Especially during those times, when you're at a party and people want to hang out with you. They're all wanting to "talk and joke" with you and shit. You can pull out a pad and say, "It's awesome you guys want to hang out with me. Wanna do some math?". It'll kill their desire to hang out with you quicker than Propofol through Michael Jackson! WHOA! Didn't see that shit coming did you? BOOOOM! Poor dead pop star, he never saw it coming.

Among other things he never saw coming.