I LOVE Public Washrooms!

2009. Happy fucking new year. Here is a little food for thought. I hope you don't choke on it.
Basically,
I'm not one of those people who's comfortable enough doing number two in public. And while I have your attention, I don't even like doing my regular business in public if I don't have to. I don't know how some of you do it, but whenever there's somebody else there, my sphincter retracts and slams shut, closing everything in behind it. Granted, sometimes desperate times calls for desperate measures.
And as I sit alone in my little four cornered cubicle taking a doodoo, I couldn't help but let my train of thoughts take its own course.
Before you ask me why all of my ideas seem to come to me while I'm on the shitter, let me ask you this: What else is there to do on the shitter?

It's the way the urinals are positioned. Some washrooms are okay with this because they have urinal dividers. I'm just a regular dude alright? I don't have a liberty dong, but I would still like to have the liberty of exercising my stiff neck every now and then without having my pride crushed under the mass of an outstanding 18 incher.
For the ladies that have no idea what I'm talking about, here is a little visual aid:

This is why regular public washroom protocol requires me to shift down two spots in either direction of an occupied urinal.

I also rather enjoy bathroom stalls. They're way underrated. If you ever have a moment with nothing better to do, go explore some bathroom stalls. 90% of stalls I've ever encountered in public smell kinda funky, but funk is good! About a good quarter of them never have rolls of toilet paper in them. About another good quarter of them often have stains of poo or unidentifiable sticky substances near, or on the seats. Almost all of them have broken locks. Regular bathroom protocol also requires one doesn't use a stall next to an occupied one, just in case you happen to be pushing so hard that you had to bend forward, to come face to face with the guy peeking at you from underneath the next stall. You laugh, but it happens.
In fact, let me go off on a tangent here and say that there was this one kid in high school that was quite notorious for that. Legend has it that he was this fat Chinese midget, oddly enough with pupils the size of swollen cherries, and dressed like he walked fresh out of a Bollywood sci-fi production. Of course there had been talk about beating the kid up, but for the first couple of months, nobody really knew what he looked like or if he really existed at all. And then one lunch hour, the shit hit the fan (not literally, I hope) and I recall seeing a bunch of schoolyard supervisors, as well as the vice principal (if you ever saw that lazy fucker get off his ass, you'd KNOW there were big shit poppin') outside of the second floor washroom. A week or so after that he just vanished as if he never existed.
Back on the topic of public urinals though, look what I found:

I vouch for the immediate installation of these urinals at SFU.
I wouldn't mind pitching in some pocket money for this, screw that United Way bullshit.
Sometimes I don't feel like washing my hands, so when I'm done my business, I head straight out the door. I also make sure to grab the door handle and caress the entire bar several times as I'm making my exit. Sometimes when I can muster one on the spot, I even like to let out a wet squeaky fart to let my grand exit be known to my pee and poop peers.

If we had these here, maybe I'd consider washing my hands more often.
Perhaps the thing I love most about public washrooms though is the smell. Some of them smell like either a block of really good cheese or a plate of really-gone-bad dinner. On rare occasions, you'd run into one that had a nice rosy fragrance. Those are the ones I'd really like to take my time in. In those ones, I also like to hum my own elevator music and pretend I'm in an exclusive toilet lounge of a Dubai resort.
Still on the topic of fragrances, I will shamefully admit to being ridiculously attracted to the smell of toilet soap. I don't know what those Indians put in those soap bars, but they smell oh, so nice. I try to make a sport of it on the days I'm not too lazy to go to school, so if you ever see a guy sniffing the insides of SFU urinals, come say hi.





-vH