A 2018 Bathroom Musings Retrospective
(Radioactive - Imagine Dragons)
For those who have been following my exploits on Facebook but NOT the blog are missing some exclusive content in the form of Bathroom Musings. I won't toot my own horn -- or other body parts -- about how entertaining they are, but most folks seem to enjoy them a great deal. Since I have some followers who have chosen to remove themselves from Mark Zuckerberg's money-making juggernaut, I thought I'd change my policy and start dual-posting my musings here as well. In celebration of this development, I give you...
Hypothetically speaking, one could be so engrossed with the work call that they're on that they might reach for the shaving cream instead of the deodorant in their rush to prepare to leave the house. The results of doing this would naturally be a detriment to one's timetable.
Hypothetically speaking.
August 2nd, 2018 -- If you're so tired that instead of putting shaving cream on your face, you begin rubbing deodorant on your face instead, perhaps shaving isn't a good choice for you at that moment.
Also, completely unrelated, but stubble shreds the crap out of deodorant sticks. Completely unrelated.
July 31st, 2018 --Attempting to get a perfect shave of the head is kind of like attempting to polish an egg until it's round. You think everything's alright, so you decide to push just a little bit harder, and all you end up with is a mess.
Moral of the story is, don't attempt to polish an egg with a razor blade. Or something.
July 30th, 2018 -- ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED:
Post-shower, I inadvertently flicked myself in the plums with the corner of my wet towel.
That is all. Or it should have been. Sensing weakness, one of my cats waited for me to carefully lay down in bed and turn the lights out before stealthing between my legs and brushing their whiskers along my inner thigh. This caused me to slam my legs together at Mach 17. There were casualties.
July 26th, 2018 -- I got the shock of my life after unleashing some master craft on a friend's toilet earlier this evening. Never bothered to look into the bowl and see that he had one of those tablets in the tank that turned the water blue. The sight that greeted me after I was done caused me genuine concern until I realized that, finally, it had happened...
The toilet was trolling me.
July 20th, 2018 -- It’s not enough that the cats actively tip over the bathroom trash cans to get at the Q-Tips inside. I would understand if they wanted to play with them or, frustratingly, destroy them like they do with discarded tissues. They’re not doing either of these things though.
They just want to lick them.
July 19th, 2018 -- Dear Cynthia,
It was, without a doubt, the most beautifully appointed public restroom I've ever been in. The walls were tiled in ceramic, pleasing colors that went well with the larger stone tiles on the floor. The toilet and sink were clean, there was plenty of toilet paper, and some kind of tropical scent was in the air.
Emphasis on 'was'. Lots...and lots of emphasis.
....So much emphasis....
July 2nd, 2018 -- Today's lesson:
Warning shots are real, and not to be ignored.
I could expound on this, but you'd rather I didn't, and your imagination is already doing far more than I ever could, so...
You're welcome.
June 26th, 2018 -- Taking a shower with an open blister on your foot is painful, but it escalates into a logic problem when you forget about said blister and go to brush your teeth while still in the aforementioned shower. Eventually, you have to spit the toothpaste out, and the moment it hits the floor near your foot, you quickly have to decide if you want to risk hopping around like a lunatic to avoid getting any of it on the blister, or stand still and take it, knowing full well that if you attempt to dodge the pain, the likelihood of pinwheeling out of control is high.
Choices, choices...
June 21st, 2018 --
As her elder, it falls to me to pass my extensive knowledge and experience onto my niece, Annie.
June 12th, 2018 -- There's nothing like the sound of a cat puking, unless you include the sound of another cat puking. I have three, so I'm spoiled for choice.
Without fail, one of the cats will wait until I'm firmly ensconced on the toilet before rolling just outside of the bathroom door and doing his or her best Godzilla impression. They know that I have absolutely no hope of extracting myself in time to either get a washcloth under them or stop them from doing it on the bed, or the couch, or a pillow.
By the time I hurridly rise up from my porcelain bastille, the only thing that greets me is all three cats, sitting in the middle of the room, looking at me like, "It's a shell-game now, human. Which one of us did it, and where?"
Worst of all is when you can't find it. You know it's there, because there's no such thing as a false alarm when it comes to -that- noise.
May 31st, 2018 -- One evening, not too long ago...
Me: "Oooop! That was an eyebrow!"
Le Spouse: "Uh...are you alright?"
Me: "..."
Le Spouse: "Do I need to come in there?"
Me: "...Oh, good, it was just eyelashes. Naw, babe, we're good!"
May 14th, 2018 -- So I’m at a gas station earlier today putting fuel in my car. I swipe my credit card, select my fuel grade, take the hose off of the pump, and turn a little to put it into my car. This is when I discover that, somehow, about half a gallon of gasoline has been sitting in the hose itself, and as I lower the nozzle to put it into my car, it promptly runs out all over my feet. Honest to God, the first thought that ran through my head was, “This is how I finally go Viral on YouTube...” Alas for my subscriber count, nothing happened. This allowed me to focus on the immediate problem at hand which was the fact that I was wearing flip-flops. Now, both of my feet are soaked in gasoline. I throw my flip-flops away immediately, finish filling up the car, wipe my feet off as best I can using paper towels available there at the pump, get in my car, and drive home with the windows down so I don’t get high off of the fumes emerging from my feet.
I make it home, air the car out, penguin walk into my bathroom and plop down in the bathtub. And that’s when it hits me:
This is probably the only time in my adult life where there’s actually been a risk of explosion in my bathroom, and it has absolutely nothing to do with my toilet or anything I’ve deposited into it.
Clearly... I’m doing it wrong.
May 13th, 2018 -- Meanwhile, back at the Stone Horse...
"...Are you alright in there? Should I send in some wipes?"
"No, but you might want to call someone from Guinness. It's very possible that more than a few records were just broken."
May 11th, 2018 -- Someone farted at a family gathering this evening and one of the young children muttered, “Someone just blew the brown bugle...”
Of all the legacies to pass on... ;)
May 7th, 2018 -- I sort of feel like I should have a tip jar in my bathroom. You know, on my toilet’s behalf.
May 4th, 2018 -- It takes a considerable amount of time to shave my head, and I typically shave my head and face at the same time to keep the growth looking even between shaves. To help pass the time, I bring a bluetooth speaker into the bathroom and listen to something while I work.
Problem is, I'm a bit of a knob and caught myself shaving to the beat of the song I was listening to. It wasn't a slow song.
...Shaving should never be a race.
April 22nd, 2018 -- I blow my nose without glasses on? Everything goes fine. I blow my nose with my glasses on? It literally looks like my glasses leapt in the way to spare the kleenex its grisly fate.
Glasses are my nose-blowing kryptonite.
April 21st, 2018 -- There's very little that makes you understand the necessity of hygiene more than a public restroom at a truck stop.
Also, only slightly unrelated, restaurants have taken to dimming the lights on the inside of their establishments for reasons unknown to me. They call it mood lighting, but the only thing that dim lights do to my mood is kill it. I can't read my menu, I can't see the people I'm dining with, and I can't appreciate the work that the kitchen staff has done on my meal before I put it in my face.
Whatever the reason, someone must realize that the mood lighting shouldn't ever extend into the bathroom. A poorly-lit urinal is an unused urinal, because men will most likely have peed everywhere else. That's just how these things work. You don't dimly light your urinals, you flood the area with spotlights and line the approach on either side like an airstrip so that there's no question whatsoever where you're supposed to go.
My sympathies to whatever poor bastard at The Monarch has to clean the Mens' room.
April 18th, 2018 -- My guts run on their own time, and that time is always set to, "You're gonna be about 10 minutes late for that appointment you really need to be on time for."
April 16th, 2018 -- Trying to shave your face -- trying to shave anything, I suspect -- while weaving and bobbing around because you really have to pee and just don't want to have to stop shaving is a recipe for disaster.
This is not an admission, just a statement of fact.
April 3rd, 2018 -- The discussion of toilet-training our cats came up a short while ago, and while there are a number of people in the world that are proponents of such a thing, there's very little about the notion of my cats having a functional understanding of a toilet's workings that brings me comfort.
Cats aren't, by default, stupid creatures. At least one of my cats has an overdeveloped sense of vengeance that he's chosen to humor several times during his time on this planet, and the prospect of him being able to somehow involve the toilet in his machinations is one that fills me with disquiet.
...Also, if I'm being honest, the toilet doesn't deserve that. It already has to deal with me, and as my wife will attest, that's...more than enough for one person.
March 29th, 2018 -- Do your bowels ever speak to you using the voice of a celebrity?
Mine do.
I’m having one of those moments when I should clearly have gone to the bathroom about 10 minutes ago, but I’ve gotten so caught up in actually making progress on chores around the house that I’ve put it off. I find myself in the laundry room, preparing to move clothing from the washing machine to the dryer, and my poor decision making has finally started to catch up to me in earnest. I bend over to reach into the washing machine, and my guts protest. “I’m an adult,” I tell myself. “I can control my baser instincts long enough to move some laundry.” I take the clothing, bend over, and shove it into the dryer. I straighten up and prepare to lean over the washing machine, when Samuel L. Jackson very clearly shouts, “Bend over again! BEND OVER AGAIN! I dare you! I DOUBLE DARE YOU! Bend over one more goddamn time!”
Loud and clear, sir. Loud and clear.
March 28th, 2018 -- BAD THING: Chopping onions leads to eyes watering badly. Heinously expensive contact lens pops out of eye because of blinking and rubbing.
GOOD THING: I catch heinously expensive contact lens before it lands in the sink, in the onions, or on the floor.
BAD THING: I’m a moron, and immediately pop it back into my eye.
GOOD THING: ...Actually, no, skip this one.
BAD THING: Pain and suffering.
March 28th, 2018 -- So, Mumford just finished taking a massive poop in his litter box, walked into my office, jumped up on my desk, and sat down right on top of my cell phone.
Then he wiggled a little.
Then he hopped down and trotted off, purring to himself.
Cats are assholes.
March 8th, 2018 -- Death and Taxes need to move over. There’s a third constant in life and it pops up with far greater frequency.
One might even say it prairie dogs.
March 7th, 2018 -- After day two of eating Taco Bell leftovers, I find myself equal parts curious and alarmed about the lack of attention that fiber is getting as a dangerous substance. The potential for absolute havok is something that shouldn't be ignored!
...plus, it's really hard to get any work done in my office when the toilet in the adjoining bathroom won't stop weeping quietly...
March 3rd, 2018 -- I appear to have successfully, if not entirely on purpose, shaved my upper lip.
The pink bit.
The bit that had no hair to begin with.
...Business as usual then.
March 1st 2018 -- I have no idea what's done it, but my guts are...displeased.
There's no possible way that wiping with dry ice could go well, but at this moment, I'm seriously considering it as a viable option.
February 26th, 2018 -- Well, I'm cleaning evidence off of my glasses that suggests that, after nearly 4 decades of life, I still lack the basic skills necessary to blow my nose without catastrophic fallout.
That's really set the tone for the day.
February 20th, 2018 -- Everyone gripes at children to be sure they try to use the restroom before a trip, as if the children aren’t responsible. Now, I’ll grant you that a certain amount of caution is warranted, but I do feel somewhat compelled, in defense of children everywhere, to point out that adults are the only ones ever standing in line to use the toilets on airplanes.
January 28th, 2018 -- ...well, my legs are asleep now. There’s no way this will end gracefully.
January 24th, 2018 -- I was thrilled this morning at the fact that someone had bothered to produce toothpaste in a convenient pump that could rest out of the way on my sink, only to realize that it was hand soap I was dispensing onto my toothbrush a moment later.
...Perhaps I should have gotten more sleep last night.
January 8th, 2018 --
January 8th, 2018 -- In the grand scheme of things, preparing for 'fasting' lab work with your doctor isn't really that bad as long as you know what you're getting into beforehand. In my case, it was eating nothing for 12 hours prior to the appointment, and only drinking water.
On that point, you're actually encouraged to drink a lot of water. Not only does this help when it's time to collect a urine sample, it also makes the 'stick' for your blood draw go more smoothly.
Now, I hate needles with the kind of passion that's typically reserved for zealots and Apple fanboys, so I drank A LOT of water this morning before going in to see the doctor for my fasting lab work.
Bear with me, we're getting to it.
Now, it's typically recommended that you schedule this kind of appointment for the morning. You eat dinner at 6pm, drink moderate amounts of water until bedtime, sleep away the majority of the 12 hours of your fasting period, wake up in the morning, and then go see a man about a horse. The problem with this scenario, and where this story really starts to get unpleasant, is that I had a LOT of water to drink the night before. More water, less needle. That's what the doctor said.
I get up, I have to pee. Bad. But I'm supposed to save that donation for the doctor, so I hurriedly throw some clothes on and waddle out the door and into my car. It's only 20 minutes to the doctor's office. I'm an adult. I can do this.
ZoomZoom happens, and I soon find myself on the entrance ramp to the highway, where I discover that it's at a dead standstill because of ice on the roads.
It's alright. I'm an adult. I can do this. Deep breathing.
45 minutes later, I'm only just pulling into the campus where my doctor's office is located, and I have to pee so badly that my eyes are about to float out of my skull.
It's alright. I'm an adult. I can do this.
I hop out of my car, turn around, and discover that the entire cobblestone walkway between me and the doctor's office is covered with ice. At this point, I've started to lose my cool a little as I penguin-walk what feels like the five miles between my car and the entrance to the clinic, all the while muttering, "Hard to get to?!" under my breath in my best Malcolm Reynolds voice.
It's alright. I'm an adult. I can do this. I am a leaf on the wind.
Somehow, I manage to make it into the clinic, and am greeted by a cheerful and happy nurse. She, clearly, has been allowed to use the lavatory in the last 12 hours. "Hi, Stephen, it's good to see you again! How are you this morning?"
..."I'll be honest, I'm gagging for a pee right now."
"Oh, I totally understand. Fasting labs are no fun. We'll get you back right away--"
THANK YOU!
"--but first, could you fill out this paperwork for me?"
NO, YOU SADISTIC, SCRUB-WEARING CLINIC HARPY! I have disclosed to you that I need to relieve myself in a fashion that could probably reduce a forest fire to nothingness, and am ACTIVELY DANCING BACK AND FORTH FROM FOOT TO FOOT IN FRONT OF YOU!
"...Sure. I can do that."
Somehow, I manage to get the paperwork filled out -- I have the handwriting of a kindergartner on a good day, so good luck reading it, lady -- and true to her word, she admits me to the lab area immediately.
I've done UAs before for drug screenings, so I know the drill, and I'm overjoyed when I'm shown the bathroom. But then, in a move that's tantamount to suicide, the nurse continues to stand in my way, all the while discussing the proper methodology for peeing into a cup. "Respectfully, I know how this works, and I'd rather not Kamehameha all over your ... everything, so can I ... go?" She laughs -- this is amusing to someone, thank God -- and I'm allowed to close myself into the toilet.
I take the specimen cup, break the seal, drop my tweeds, and only then do two problems hit me at once:
1. It's absolutely freezing in the clinic bathroom and my wedding tackle is actively trying to dig to China.
2. The cup is TINY. Filling it is going to be like breaking an uncooperative dam, trying to accurately fill a thimble with water from said dam, and then stoppering that dam back up without making any kind of a mess. Luke Skywalker had it easier in Beggar's canyon back home.
...I did it. Which, really, is an anticlimactic ending to this story, but the journey is the worthier part, yes?
January 7th, 2018 -- I’m standing in the kitchen, having casual conversation with my wife while she cooks dinner, and because I haven’t eaten recently, I’m snacking on some jalapeño kettle chips. I’m a dozen or so chips in when, like lightning, the sudden urge to empty my bladder overtakes me.
I scramble into the bathroom, frantically get my drawers down, and only then do I remember that my hands are coated with Jalapeño chip dust.
Exerting the kind of self-control that is legendary even among monks — and without pulling my pants up, because my mental facilities are entirely bent on holding my bladder in check — I shuffle over to the sink, nearly tripping over my sweat pants and pitching headfirst out of the bathroom window, and proceed to turn on the water and get soap into my hands. Because I’m now fully engaged in the pee-pee dance, it doesn’t register that I’ve ONLY turned the hot water on.
So now, I’m standing in front of the sink, pants around my ankles, whimpering in panic, dancing like a pre-schooler, trying frantically to rinse the potent mint soap off of my hands with scalding hot water.
Realizing that I’ve hit the point of no return, I stagger over to the towel rack, swipe my hands a few times, and then long-jump onto the toilet.
Miraculously, every single last drop ends up precisely where it should, but as I’m sitting there, waiting for literally all of the world’s oceans to pass through my urethra, a chilling sensation begins to grip me.
A particular part of me, if I’m being honest.
And that’s when I realize that I haven’t done a good job of rinsing the soap off of my hands or drying them.
That's it for 2018! It's been a busy year so far! Stay tuned for the 2017 Retrospective!
For those who have been following my exploits on Facebook but NOT the blog are missing some exclusive content in the form of Bathroom Musings. I won't toot my own horn -- or other body parts -- about how entertaining they are, but most folks seem to enjoy them a great deal. Since I have some followers who have chosen to remove themselves from Mark Zuckerberg's money-making juggernaut, I thought I'd change my policy and start dual-posting my musings here as well. In celebration of this development, I give you...
THE 2018 -BM- RETROSPECTIVE!
(With Added Toilet Humor Goodness!)
August 2nd, 2018 -- The bathroom is, perhaps, not the best place for multi-tasking.
Hypothetically speaking, one could be so engrossed with the work call that they're on that they might reach for the shaving cream instead of the deodorant in their rush to prepare to leave the house. The results of doing this would naturally be a detriment to one's timetable.
Hypothetically speaking.
August 2nd, 2018 -- If you're so tired that instead of putting shaving cream on your face, you begin rubbing deodorant on your face instead, perhaps shaving isn't a good choice for you at that moment.
Also, completely unrelated, but stubble shreds the crap out of deodorant sticks. Completely unrelated.
July 31st, 2018 --Attempting to get a perfect shave of the head is kind of like attempting to polish an egg until it's round. You think everything's alright, so you decide to push just a little bit harder, and all you end up with is a mess.
Moral of the story is, don't attempt to polish an egg with a razor blade. Or something.
July 30th, 2018 -- ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED:
Post-shower, I inadvertently flicked myself in the plums with the corner of my wet towel.
That is all. Or it should have been. Sensing weakness, one of my cats waited for me to carefully lay down in bed and turn the lights out before stealthing between my legs and brushing their whiskers along my inner thigh. This caused me to slam my legs together at Mach 17. There were casualties.
July 26th, 2018 -- I got the shock of my life after unleashing some master craft on a friend's toilet earlier this evening. Never bothered to look into the bowl and see that he had one of those tablets in the tank that turned the water blue. The sight that greeted me after I was done caused me genuine concern until I realized that, finally, it had happened...
The toilet was trolling me.
July 20th, 2018 -- It’s not enough that the cats actively tip over the bathroom trash cans to get at the Q-Tips inside. I would understand if they wanted to play with them or, frustratingly, destroy them like they do with discarded tissues. They’re not doing either of these things though.
They just want to lick them.
July 19th, 2018 -- Dear Cynthia,
It was, without a doubt, the most beautifully appointed public restroom I've ever been in. The walls were tiled in ceramic, pleasing colors that went well with the larger stone tiles on the floor. The toilet and sink were clean, there was plenty of toilet paper, and some kind of tropical scent was in the air.
Emphasis on 'was'. Lots...and lots of emphasis.
....So much emphasis....
July 2nd, 2018 -- Today's lesson:
Warning shots are real, and not to be ignored.
I could expound on this, but you'd rather I didn't, and your imagination is already doing far more than I ever could, so...
You're welcome.
June 26th, 2018 -- Taking a shower with an open blister on your foot is painful, but it escalates into a logic problem when you forget about said blister and go to brush your teeth while still in the aforementioned shower. Eventually, you have to spit the toothpaste out, and the moment it hits the floor near your foot, you quickly have to decide if you want to risk hopping around like a lunatic to avoid getting any of it on the blister, or stand still and take it, knowing full well that if you attempt to dodge the pain, the likelihood of pinwheeling out of control is high.
Choices, choices...
June 21st, 2018 --
As her elder, it falls to me to pass my extensive knowledge and experience onto my niece, Annie.
June 12th, 2018 -- There's nothing like the sound of a cat puking, unless you include the sound of another cat puking. I have three, so I'm spoiled for choice.
Without fail, one of the cats will wait until I'm firmly ensconced on the toilet before rolling just outside of the bathroom door and doing his or her best Godzilla impression. They know that I have absolutely no hope of extracting myself in time to either get a washcloth under them or stop them from doing it on the bed, or the couch, or a pillow.
By the time I hurridly rise up from my porcelain bastille, the only thing that greets me is all three cats, sitting in the middle of the room, looking at me like, "It's a shell-game now, human. Which one of us did it, and where?"
Worst of all is when you can't find it. You know it's there, because there's no such thing as a false alarm when it comes to -that- noise.
May 31st, 2018 -- One evening, not too long ago...
Me: "Oooop! That was an eyebrow!"
Le Spouse: "Uh...are you alright?"
Me: "..."
Le Spouse: "Do I need to come in there?"
Me: "...Oh, good, it was just eyelashes. Naw, babe, we're good!"
May 14th, 2018 -- So I’m at a gas station earlier today putting fuel in my car. I swipe my credit card, select my fuel grade, take the hose off of the pump, and turn a little to put it into my car. This is when I discover that, somehow, about half a gallon of gasoline has been sitting in the hose itself, and as I lower the nozzle to put it into my car, it promptly runs out all over my feet. Honest to God, the first thought that ran through my head was, “This is how I finally go Viral on YouTube...” Alas for my subscriber count, nothing happened. This allowed me to focus on the immediate problem at hand which was the fact that I was wearing flip-flops. Now, both of my feet are soaked in gasoline. I throw my flip-flops away immediately, finish filling up the car, wipe my feet off as best I can using paper towels available there at the pump, get in my car, and drive home with the windows down so I don’t get high off of the fumes emerging from my feet.
I make it home, air the car out, penguin walk into my bathroom and plop down in the bathtub. And that’s when it hits me:
This is probably the only time in my adult life where there’s actually been a risk of explosion in my bathroom, and it has absolutely nothing to do with my toilet or anything I’ve deposited into it.
Clearly... I’m doing it wrong.
May 13th, 2018 -- Meanwhile, back at the Stone Horse...
"...Are you alright in there? Should I send in some wipes?"
"No, but you might want to call someone from Guinness. It's very possible that more than a few records were just broken."
May 11th, 2018 -- Someone farted at a family gathering this evening and one of the young children muttered, “Someone just blew the brown bugle...”
Of all the legacies to pass on... ;)
May 7th, 2018 -- I sort of feel like I should have a tip jar in my bathroom. You know, on my toilet’s behalf.
May 4th, 2018 -- It takes a considerable amount of time to shave my head, and I typically shave my head and face at the same time to keep the growth looking even between shaves. To help pass the time, I bring a bluetooth speaker into the bathroom and listen to something while I work.
Problem is, I'm a bit of a knob and caught myself shaving to the beat of the song I was listening to. It wasn't a slow song.
...Shaving should never be a race.
April 22nd, 2018 -- I blow my nose without glasses on? Everything goes fine. I blow my nose with my glasses on? It literally looks like my glasses leapt in the way to spare the kleenex its grisly fate.
Glasses are my nose-blowing kryptonite.
April 21st, 2018 -- There's very little that makes you understand the necessity of hygiene more than a public restroom at a truck stop.
Also, only slightly unrelated, restaurants have taken to dimming the lights on the inside of their establishments for reasons unknown to me. They call it mood lighting, but the only thing that dim lights do to my mood is kill it. I can't read my menu, I can't see the people I'm dining with, and I can't appreciate the work that the kitchen staff has done on my meal before I put it in my face.
Whatever the reason, someone must realize that the mood lighting shouldn't ever extend into the bathroom. A poorly-lit urinal is an unused urinal, because men will most likely have peed everywhere else. That's just how these things work. You don't dimly light your urinals, you flood the area with spotlights and line the approach on either side like an airstrip so that there's no question whatsoever where you're supposed to go.
My sympathies to whatever poor bastard at The Monarch has to clean the Mens' room.
April 18th, 2018 -- My guts run on their own time, and that time is always set to, "You're gonna be about 10 minutes late for that appointment you really need to be on time for."
April 16th, 2018 -- Trying to shave your face -- trying to shave anything, I suspect -- while weaving and bobbing around because you really have to pee and just don't want to have to stop shaving is a recipe for disaster.
This is not an admission, just a statement of fact.
April 3rd, 2018 -- The discussion of toilet-training our cats came up a short while ago, and while there are a number of people in the world that are proponents of such a thing, there's very little about the notion of my cats having a functional understanding of a toilet's workings that brings me comfort.
Cats aren't, by default, stupid creatures. At least one of my cats has an overdeveloped sense of vengeance that he's chosen to humor several times during his time on this planet, and the prospect of him being able to somehow involve the toilet in his machinations is one that fills me with disquiet.
...Also, if I'm being honest, the toilet doesn't deserve that. It already has to deal with me, and as my wife will attest, that's...more than enough for one person.
March 29th, 2018 -- Do your bowels ever speak to you using the voice of a celebrity?
Mine do.
I’m having one of those moments when I should clearly have gone to the bathroom about 10 minutes ago, but I’ve gotten so caught up in actually making progress on chores around the house that I’ve put it off. I find myself in the laundry room, preparing to move clothing from the washing machine to the dryer, and my poor decision making has finally started to catch up to me in earnest. I bend over to reach into the washing machine, and my guts protest. “I’m an adult,” I tell myself. “I can control my baser instincts long enough to move some laundry.” I take the clothing, bend over, and shove it into the dryer. I straighten up and prepare to lean over the washing machine, when Samuel L. Jackson very clearly shouts, “Bend over again! BEND OVER AGAIN! I dare you! I DOUBLE DARE YOU! Bend over one more goddamn time!”
Loud and clear, sir. Loud and clear.
March 28th, 2018 -- BAD THING: Chopping onions leads to eyes watering badly. Heinously expensive contact lens pops out of eye because of blinking and rubbing.
GOOD THING: I catch heinously expensive contact lens before it lands in the sink, in the onions, or on the floor.
BAD THING: I’m a moron, and immediately pop it back into my eye.
GOOD THING: ...Actually, no, skip this one.
BAD THING: Pain and suffering.
March 28th, 2018 -- So, Mumford just finished taking a massive poop in his litter box, walked into my office, jumped up on my desk, and sat down right on top of my cell phone.
Then he wiggled a little.
Then he hopped down and trotted off, purring to himself.
Cats are assholes.
March 8th, 2018 -- Death and Taxes need to move over. There’s a third constant in life and it pops up with far greater frequency.
One might even say it prairie dogs.
March 7th, 2018 -- After day two of eating Taco Bell leftovers, I find myself equal parts curious and alarmed about the lack of attention that fiber is getting as a dangerous substance. The potential for absolute havok is something that shouldn't be ignored!
...plus, it's really hard to get any work done in my office when the toilet in the adjoining bathroom won't stop weeping quietly...
March 3rd, 2018 -- I appear to have successfully, if not entirely on purpose, shaved my upper lip.
The pink bit.
The bit that had no hair to begin with.
...Business as usual then.
March 1st 2018 -- I have no idea what's done it, but my guts are...displeased.
There's no possible way that wiping with dry ice could go well, but at this moment, I'm seriously considering it as a viable option.
February 26th, 2018 -- Well, I'm cleaning evidence off of my glasses that suggests that, after nearly 4 decades of life, I still lack the basic skills necessary to blow my nose without catastrophic fallout.
That's really set the tone for the day.
February 20th, 2018 -- Everyone gripes at children to be sure they try to use the restroom before a trip, as if the children aren’t responsible. Now, I’ll grant you that a certain amount of caution is warranted, but I do feel somewhat compelled, in defense of children everywhere, to point out that adults are the only ones ever standing in line to use the toilets on airplanes.
January 28th, 2018 -- ...well, my legs are asleep now. There’s no way this will end gracefully.
January 24th, 2018 -- I was thrilled this morning at the fact that someone had bothered to produce toothpaste in a convenient pump that could rest out of the way on my sink, only to realize that it was hand soap I was dispensing onto my toothbrush a moment later.
...Perhaps I should have gotten more sleep last night.
January 8th, 2018 --
January 8th, 2018 -- In the grand scheme of things, preparing for 'fasting' lab work with your doctor isn't really that bad as long as you know what you're getting into beforehand. In my case, it was eating nothing for 12 hours prior to the appointment, and only drinking water.
On that point, you're actually encouraged to drink a lot of water. Not only does this help when it's time to collect a urine sample, it also makes the 'stick' for your blood draw go more smoothly.
Now, I hate needles with the kind of passion that's typically reserved for zealots and Apple fanboys, so I drank A LOT of water this morning before going in to see the doctor for my fasting lab work.
Bear with me, we're getting to it.
Now, it's typically recommended that you schedule this kind of appointment for the morning. You eat dinner at 6pm, drink moderate amounts of water until bedtime, sleep away the majority of the 12 hours of your fasting period, wake up in the morning, and then go see a man about a horse. The problem with this scenario, and where this story really starts to get unpleasant, is that I had a LOT of water to drink the night before. More water, less needle. That's what the doctor said.
I get up, I have to pee. Bad. But I'm supposed to save that donation for the doctor, so I hurriedly throw some clothes on and waddle out the door and into my car. It's only 20 minutes to the doctor's office. I'm an adult. I can do this.
ZoomZoom happens, and I soon find myself on the entrance ramp to the highway, where I discover that it's at a dead standstill because of ice on the roads.
It's alright. I'm an adult. I can do this. Deep breathing.
45 minutes later, I'm only just pulling into the campus where my doctor's office is located, and I have to pee so badly that my eyes are about to float out of my skull.
It's alright. I'm an adult. I can do this.
I hop out of my car, turn around, and discover that the entire cobblestone walkway between me and the doctor's office is covered with ice. At this point, I've started to lose my cool a little as I penguin-walk what feels like the five miles between my car and the entrance to the clinic, all the while muttering, "Hard to get to?!" under my breath in my best Malcolm Reynolds voice.
It's alright. I'm an adult. I can do this. I am a leaf on the wind.
Somehow, I manage to make it into the clinic, and am greeted by a cheerful and happy nurse. She, clearly, has been allowed to use the lavatory in the last 12 hours. "Hi, Stephen, it's good to see you again! How are you this morning?"
..."I'll be honest, I'm gagging for a pee right now."
"Oh, I totally understand. Fasting labs are no fun. We'll get you back right away--"
THANK YOU!
"--but first, could you fill out this paperwork for me?"
NO, YOU SADISTIC, SCRUB-WEARING CLINIC HARPY! I have disclosed to you that I need to relieve myself in a fashion that could probably reduce a forest fire to nothingness, and am ACTIVELY DANCING BACK AND FORTH FROM FOOT TO FOOT IN FRONT OF YOU!
"...Sure. I can do that."
Somehow, I manage to get the paperwork filled out -- I have the handwriting of a kindergartner on a good day, so good luck reading it, lady -- and true to her word, she admits me to the lab area immediately.
I've done UAs before for drug screenings, so I know the drill, and I'm overjoyed when I'm shown the bathroom. But then, in a move that's tantamount to suicide, the nurse continues to stand in my way, all the while discussing the proper methodology for peeing into a cup. "Respectfully, I know how this works, and I'd rather not Kamehameha all over your ... everything, so can I ... go?" She laughs -- this is amusing to someone, thank God -- and I'm allowed to close myself into the toilet.
I take the specimen cup, break the seal, drop my tweeds, and only then do two problems hit me at once:
1. It's absolutely freezing in the clinic bathroom and my wedding tackle is actively trying to dig to China.
2. The cup is TINY. Filling it is going to be like breaking an uncooperative dam, trying to accurately fill a thimble with water from said dam, and then stoppering that dam back up without making any kind of a mess. Luke Skywalker had it easier in Beggar's canyon back home.
...I did it. Which, really, is an anticlimactic ending to this story, but the journey is the worthier part, yes?
January 7th, 2018 -- I’m standing in the kitchen, having casual conversation with my wife while she cooks dinner, and because I haven’t eaten recently, I’m snacking on some jalapeño kettle chips. I’m a dozen or so chips in when, like lightning, the sudden urge to empty my bladder overtakes me.
I scramble into the bathroom, frantically get my drawers down, and only then do I remember that my hands are coated with Jalapeño chip dust.
Exerting the kind of self-control that is legendary even among monks — and without pulling my pants up, because my mental facilities are entirely bent on holding my bladder in check — I shuffle over to the sink, nearly tripping over my sweat pants and pitching headfirst out of the bathroom window, and proceed to turn on the water and get soap into my hands. Because I’m now fully engaged in the pee-pee dance, it doesn’t register that I’ve ONLY turned the hot water on.
So now, I’m standing in front of the sink, pants around my ankles, whimpering in panic, dancing like a pre-schooler, trying frantically to rinse the potent mint soap off of my hands with scalding hot water.
Realizing that I’ve hit the point of no return, I stagger over to the towel rack, swipe my hands a few times, and then long-jump onto the toilet.
Miraculously, every single last drop ends up precisely where it should, but as I’m sitting there, waiting for literally all of the world’s oceans to pass through my urethra, a chilling sensation begins to grip me.
A particular part of me, if I’m being honest.
And that’s when I realize that I haven’t done a good job of rinsing the soap off of my hands or drying them.
That's it for 2018! It's been a busy year so far! Stay tuned for the 2017 Retrospective!
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