Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Poopy pal avoidance

One of the things I hate most in the world is encountering a poopy pal. This is, I'm fairly certain, terminology unique to myself, so let me explain. A poopy pal is someone who's in a public restroom taking a crap at the same time as you. Maybe they're already in there when you go in, which is kind of a drag, but you have to go and there's no alternative bathroom that might be empty so you're all, OK, I'll go here. Or, what's worse, you find a nice deserted bathroom, no one is in there, and you settle in for a long winter's crap, and then someone comes in and ruins your solitude.

So now you're sitting there and there's someone sitting next to you and it's not like European toilets, which are called water closets for a reason, because they're all isolated and self-contained with some expectation that you should have privacy for your unprotected moments, no, there's a big ol' gap between the bottom of the wall and the floor so you can see the guy's shoes and his pants all piled on top of his shoes, and you know that he can see yours...

Note that, whenever I say "you" here, what I mean is me. I'm pretty clear that this is mostly my own neurosis. And the odd thing about it is that I'm generally pretty mellow about bodily functions. But something about defecation causes me all kinds of bashfulness. I could pee into a fountain in the middle of a shopping mall at the height of the Christmas rush if not for the full body tackle sure to be administered upon me by the well trained security staff. But not when it comes to dropping the kids off at the pool, no sir.

Here's my defense, though. Dogs. Because a dog will do anything without the slightest hint of self-consciousness, anything, a dog will fuck your leg or a couch, dogs caught in flagrante delicto primarily amuse us as they try to disengage but not because of the blushing way in which they try to cover up the act, a dog will lay down in front of the Queen of God Damned England and lick its genitalia in a slow deliberate fashion, dogs do not give a fuck.

Except for when it comes to taking a crap. This is the only time dogs look at you like, man, are you really gonna sit there and watch me take a shit? Can't you go watch Pat Robertson or something else embarassing to your own species? What the hell man?

If an animal that will stick its nose in others' asses while chasing farts is shy about others witnessing its acts of excrementation, I feel pretty OK with this bit of modesty.

That's what I was thinking about a little while ago while I was waiting for the jackass that was crapping in the bathroom stall next to me to fucking leave.

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