To people:I decided to start blogging and I chose sort of a pilot group or w/e to determine how good/shitty it is. I'd like to say there was some sort of scientific method of chosing you guys but it was really just whoever I thought might enjoy it:
I've always kind of laughed about how guys interact with each other in the men's room. For the lady readers, let me explain something to you- the men's room is like Haiti 2010 compared to your Garden of Eden lavoratory. Here is your scenario:
You walk in to lovely little pictures depicting blissful gardens, or maybe quaint European cities. Then, a floral aroma overtakes you as you close your eyes, stop for a minute and smile a la an Herbal Essences commercial. The floors and walls seem to sparkle, sparking that Disney Fairy Tale Princess imbued in you to take note that every room in the universe is expected to be this clean. Oh and what's that? A vase in the corner with a delicate array of flowers, freshpicked for your viewing and smelling pleasure? How thoughtful! The stall doors open to a porcelain throne with adequate supplies for a small army. After your appearance/performance on the throne, you have only the finest soaps at your disposal in order to lavish your little lady hands in all sorts of feelgood. Oops! Made a mess at some point during your stay at Hotel De Toilette? Not a problem, the seven dwarves will clean up after your mishaps. Upon your exit, you notice another woman stepping in experiencing the same feelings you did upon your arrival, smile in agreement and bid a good day.
The guys room. You step in and feel a sense of regret immediately, like a "couldn't I just hold it?" feeling. The walls are discolored from years of neglect, with paint chipping and if out at a bar more than likely littered with nuggets of wisdom, such as "Brian B is a Faggot" or "My dick is huge". Pictures, if any are generally advertisements of the alcoholic persuasion (once again if in a bar), and smells make you think you are in the house of a black plague victim (even though it's impossible for you to know what that would smell like, this is what you'd imagine the smell would be), mixed with twelve hours since Taco Bell consumption. Toilet paper, paper towels, and unidentifiable liquids are always scattered amongst the floor. If you're at work, then you pull up to the urinal/trough (urinals for a work environment, trough for bars/sports venues) and this guy next to you starts striking up conversation something to the likes of this,
"Hey (insert name/random term for a male), hows it goin?"
(Your irrelevant response which he will not pay attention to)
"So hows that (whatever you're working on) coming?"
(Your irrelevant response which he will not pay attention to)
"Oh yeah, that sounds like a monster. Any plans for the weekend?"
bla bla and the pointless smalltalk goes on. All of this conversation is so oblivious to the 3rd world country surroundings, all while you both are standing there with your junk out. Seriously, you have approximately 23 hours 50 minutes of the day that you aren't in the bathroom to socialize...isn't there a chance to move this conversation to one of those other times and let us piss in peace? Yes, this is going to you forty-five-and-single. Accept the bathroom for the hell hole that it is and get the hell out of there as soon as humanly possible.
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