I have a routine at work each morning.
Come in, sit down, turn on computer.
While my computer gears up, I put my
purse bag-o-fun (not to be confused with fun bags) away, and organize my water/gum/chapstick exactly how I want it.
Cuz who wants to be wondering, "Where's the chapstick?"
Then I get my coffee and settle in for 30 minutes of twitter, facebook, and generally perusing the internet.
I don't feel guilty about this for 2 reasons:
1. If I didn't do it, I couldn't be productive.
I would be sitting in agony, wondering what the hell was going on in that big vast world as the social media realm silently passed me by.
2. They say we need to be here at "8:30" but that is apparently a loose term for 8:45-9:30.
I get it. These "fashionably late" assholes can't get here on time, so you tell EVERYONE to be here at 8:30. Well, thanks, I'm OCD which means I waltz in most mornings at 8:28 and feel guilty when I get here 10 minutes late even though NO ONE IS HERE TO NOTICE.
[Exit angry, bitter Courtney]
So of course I am scrolling through my live feed, determining who is worthy of my comments and I see this:
Katie: I worry that I am getting to used to the automatic flushing toilets at work. I almost didn't flush at home! What if that happened at a restaurant!! I had better to pay more attention! Does this happen to you?Now, ahem, I am a tad bit embarrassed to admit how absolutely angry I got when I saw this post.
I know what you are thinking: Gah, she gets so ANGRY about everything.
I get angry about things that make my life inconvenient and dirty.
Excluding booty calls.
I'm chuckling pretty hard to myself right now.
Not because that was particularly clever, but because those haven't existed in my life in
quite some time an eternity of seven hells.
And clearly, the chuckling was a moment of insanity that turned into heaving silent sobs.
Well. That's depressing. Now I just want jelly beans and vodka at 9 am.
To prevent further judgment and eating my feelings, I'm going to just pretend that didn't happen and keep moving forward.
I. loathe. automatic flushing toilets.
I mean, really, what is the point?
Is it so that people who "forget to flush" don't cause issues where people start to walk into a stall and then immediately turn around and run to the next stall, thus resulting in bathroom traffic issues?
Omg!! There is pee in the toilet! AND toilet paper!! I can't use that one! Eeeeeew!
Um, hello? You are about to do the exact same thing. Just flush, wait, then squat.
I've also been glared at many a time for walking to the front of the line, asking why someone isn't using the stall, flushing the "out of commission" toilet and cutting 10 lovely (lazy) ladies.
You weren't using it.
This is completely different from when a giant log gets wedged in the toilet and is polluting the toilet water to a mississippi-river like consistency.
Somebody please tell me how a woman can clog an industrial toilet?
Do you know how much horsepower those things have?
Which brings me to my main point.
The automatic toilets never seem to "sense" me when I am done.
I'm lingering there, buttoning my jeans and waiting for the toilet to start flushing, but it never does.
So I wait, and I wait, and I wait.....
Then I flush it myself and wonder why we even have these things.
By the way, for you ruhtards, if you press that little black button, the auto toilet will flush non-automatically, and then you won't have a "used" toilet and cause scenario #1 stated above.
Then I walk out to wash my hands and apparently those automatic soap and water dispensers hate me too, so it takes 5 minutes to wash my hands.
Luckily, the paper towel sensors can always see me.
I think they like me because I am not particularly green and know I could be their saving grace in a world of air dryers.
those really fast hand dryers are so cool though. But at the same time I am kind of scared. It's like my hands are in a stage 10 tornado....or a kid on a roller coaster.
But then every once in awhile, the automatic flushing toilets (to be known as AFTs from here on out) realize that they have been neglecting me and go all gung-ho on my ass....literally.
There is nothing worse than walking into a stall, squatting over the toilet, and relieving your bladder only to find that the AFT wants to anally violate you.
All of the sudden, that bastard flushes and water/urine mix comes shooting upward.
At that point you have two options, you can "go with the flow" or scoot away from the toilet and pee your pants.
Merry Christmas, take your pick!
Thank you, AFT.
And by thank you I mean eff you.
If I wanted a damn bidet, or anal penetration for that matter, I would move to France.
So kindly take your water spraying pipes and suck it.
Of course, to add insult to injury, the toilet won't flush a second time when I am actually done peeing. I have to reach over once again and push that stupid little black button while the red cursor just blinks at me.
It sounds silent, but I know what it's thinking.
"Haha, gotcha good bitch. You like that?"
Oh yeah, baby, I love being butt-raped in the airport bathroom by an sensor-activated toilet.
Do you call that a sneak attack or pre-ejaculation?
Just my idea of a typical Sunday afternoon.
This can only lead to 2 conclusions:
1) I will not be advocating any AFTs in the near future.
2) I guess I've been getting more action than I thought.