Boldy going where no one should have to

Today my life just got infinitely better.

For anyone wondering what new game got announced that would send me to such heights of joy, I am afraid I’ll have to disappoint you by saying it’s not game, movie or even action figure related.

Ok, I take that back Lego Marvel Heroes sounds pretty cool.

But what has really got me the most excited I’ve been since I saw the Hobbit is now I can go the the bathroom at work again!

This will come as a surprise to 16-year-old me who would endure pain normally associated with torturing people who throw up on their leader in Medieval Europe to avoid having to use a toilet that someone in my family did not own, but I spend a lot of time these days in public restrooms.

It’s not that I’m unhealthy or a weirdo who like sitting on a disturbingly warm toilet seat. It’s just I’ve reached the age where my body has decided what time it wants to poop every day for the rest of my life.

That time happens to be 9:30 AM.

I also happen to be employed in a Western Society that tends to look at the guy who comes in at 10:00 as not a team player.

This means, until my bowels or societal pressure change, I’m pooping at work.

At least I was.

My peaceful routine was recently shattered when a coworker pointed out something horrible.

If you are standing at the urinal, and look down and to the right, the new super shiny tile lets you see the reflection of the butt of the guy sitting in the stall next to you.

When I learned this, everything south of the border closed up and refused to work like a French company being told they couldn’t get 8 weeks of time off this year.

(I would just like to point out I just made a satirical commentary on European work ethic and a poop joke in the same sentence.)

This has, needless to say, made my work days less than comfortable. Not only could I now not ever use that stall for fear of someone staring at my Kiester Kaiser but I can’t use the urinal either, because I don’t want to accidentally catch a glimpse of some poor sap’s Crapper Capper.

I didn’t think it was possible to make this restroom, in which the only way to tell if someone is in the handicapped stall is to go up to the door and try to pull it open, any worse, but this did it.

So at my desk, productivity has sagged, morale has plummeted and no one dares come talk to me about anything.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

So what happened to make me suddenly less self conscience about letting random coworkers sneak a peek at the Hairy Hills?

I got an iPod Touch.

You guys can stare at the Back Nine at the Manly Meadows all you want. I’ve got Birds to make less Angry.

Geek on. I guess. I’m not actually sure if I still say that.

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