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FacebookYesterday at Ikea I have a very uncomfortable incident in the bathroom. I walked in about five feet behind this other dude. There was no one else in the bathroom and it was just the two of us (sounds like the beginning of a gay romance novel). The restroom had three urinals up against the wall and the guy immediately walked to the one in the middle.
What’s that all about? By foolishly walking to the middle urinal, now I had no choice but to pee immediately next to him. If he picked the one on the right or the left, it would be fine because at least we would still have a buffer between us. But now I had no choice–I had to pee right next to him. Call me a homophobe if you want, I feel uncomfortable touching my junk when there’s a guy eight inches away from me touching his junk. In plain sight.
There’s an unwritten rule regarding urinals for all the ladies out there: Thou Shall Stand as Far Away as Possible to Another Man When Using the Urinal. It’s just good, common decency. The distance helps prevent splashing or peeking (accidental and intentional). Nobody likes to be near someone else when they’re peeing. I don’t want anyone near me when I’m peeing. It’s one thing if you’re in the middle of a crowded bathroom and there are no other options. But when you have your pick of three empty urinals, a guy is always supposed to pick the one furthest from anyone else. Every dude knows that–from age five and up. I was tempted to pee on him as friendly reminder of bathroom etiquette…and no jury would ever convict me of wrongdoing
No jury with a guy on it.
On an unrelated note, I passed a black stool (wait–don’t leave…jeeze, The Wife had the same reaction). When I say black, I mean BLACK. Not dark brown. Not dark green. I mean black like the tires on your car. I know pooh comes in all sorts of shapes and colors (Fruity Peebles make green!), but I had never seen–or heard–of black pooh before. So after I finished my business, I immediately Googled “black stool” and found some interesting results.
The first page I visited listed all the causes behind black stool. The symptoms ranged from cancer or blood in the intestines. It talked about something called melena and recommended immediate consultation from a doctor. Of course this worried me–cancer isn’t exactly something I was looking forward to getting. As I scrolled further down the page, it listed another symptom of black stool: Pepto Bizmal.
Why the fudge wasn’t that at the top of the page? The night before my stomach was really acting up and I must’ve drank half a bottle of Pepto (it tastes yummy). That was the cause of my black pooh–nothing as sinister or damaging as ass cancer. I wish they said that in the beginning before I started freaking out–it woulda saved me some grief.
All concerns were excremented by my next bowl movement: the toilet was full of normal, brown pooh. I couldn’t recall the last time I was so happy to see pooh. And then I realized I was staring at pooh and really need to find something better to do.
That could be the worst, most disgusting story I’ve ever told. But it sure was fun.