Thursday, October 9, 2008

Seriously... open a fucking window

I'm back to drinking heaps of water at work. It's great for cutting back on my caffeine addiction - both carbonated and frothy hot versions. But one of the side effects of course is that you have to go and let it back out so often. That puts me in a scary position of actually having to enter the toilets in this building.

It's not like they are badly maintained or filthy like a set of public toilets in a park - it's just that people in this place seem to have no aversion to dropping the kids off at the pool during business hours.

I don't know about you guys, but I hate having to take a visit to the porcelain office at work. I'd much prefer to do it in my own home. There's far less chance of your Director actually walking in and knowing you had a particularly spicy curry for dinner last night. But there are many, many men in this place that obviously wouldn't care if the Pope needed to use the facilities after them.

I feel really guilty about making a deposit during work hours too. I am being paid about 66 cents per minute to sit here and read the graffiti on the back of the door. But its obvious the other public servants in my building have no qualms at all clogging the plumbing while on the Premier's time.

At any given moment you can walk into one of three men's toilets in the building (considering there's about 200 staff in this place, the facilities are a little on the limited side) and you can be guaranteed to see at least one or two cubicles in use. Or if the doors aren't closed, your nose is quickly affronted by who was in there last. From the sounds and smells that come out of those cubicles, I am really starting to worry about some of these blokes. Eat some fruit and vegetables for fuck sake. Your ring will thank you for the fibre.

But the poo problems aren't limited to the men by the sounds of it - I was standing at the urinal trying not to breath in the stink of previous visitors when the unmistakable sounds of someone with the green apple splatters hits my ears - but some what faintly.

I looked around, but all three cubicles were vacant, so where did it come from? Then I heard it again and realised that the wall of the urinal is a shared wall to ladies conveniences. There was one sick, sick lady in there.

It reminded me of that scene from "Not Another Teen Movie" - you know the one I mean.

4 comments:

Andy Man said...

Nothing worse than a stinky public toilet... I try not to take a leak at work, let alone actually squeeze out a poo.

Anonymous said...

How come people are so comforable talking about what comes out the arse's these days? Seriously dude, would you talk about this crap with your mother?

Ben said...

Ummm... yeah. I often fart when I'm out in public with her and then run away

Anonymous said...

how fucking old are you? fuck ur foul