Friday, March 11, 2011

rants from the handicapped stall

Disclaimer: I am about to get ready. Sit down. Pour yourself a cold beverage and buckle down, because its a doozie. Also if you are at all queasy or are currently eating Taco Bell, put this blog on hold and check it out later. I would have to be responsible for your ruined day.

As you have probably gathered, my tolerance for gross things is fairly high. I grew up with brothers, who made it their life's goal to disgust me. [Tangent: Unfortunately my face is generally at ass level and they took advantage of this.]  Also, I've spent more time than I'd care to in hospitals, so I've seen bodily fluids in every possible incarnation. Long story short- it takes a lot to make me dry heave.  Today my ceiling was hit and I entered the mythical land of disturbia. The things I've seen cannot be unseen.

The day started out normal enough. There was a to things got weird. When I went out for my morning break, I noticed a curious hand print on the men's room door. It was abnormally large and  greasy [Tangent: I am not talking a normal eat a hamburger greasy...I am talking finger painted with Crisco and then played patty cake with an octopus greasy.] Who functions with their hands that dirty?

This is an approximation. I wanted to snap a picture but was worried 
someone would exit the men's room and things would get awkward.
It provided some break time conversation fodder and an internal giggle for me, not realizing that things were about to take the fast train to shitsville [Tangent: Literally.]. After "powdering my nose" in the facilities, out of the corner of my eye I saw a very disturbing mark on the wall directly under transfer bar and the sign that tells you how to be economical with your toilet paper. The origins of said substance are still unknown. In my heart of hearts, I like to think that someone was merely eating a bean burrito on the commode and when they bit into it, it sprayed onto the wall Rorschach style. I am choosing to believe that fantasy instead of addressing the real issue at large, that someone has knowingly left their bodily fluids in a public area.
when I googled burrito, I found this picture, which is nearly as disturbing as the stain.
As I fight the 'Nam style flashbacks, I feel I need to do a little Public Service Announcement. I can't speak for all stalls, because I only use the handicapped/"big girls stall," but why is it always so gross in there. It doesn't matter where I am, it seems the handicapped stall is always the one where the seat is oddly slimy, or I am ankle deep in a nice pee water/ toiler papier mache. Not Cool. [Tangent: Since I have been of legal drinking age, my favorite bar has featured a broken baby changing station in the handi-stall. This shelf has its perks when I need somewhere to set my purse or prop my head if I have had one too many. Otherwise, its just an aggravating way to take up half the space in the already small rectangle.] Don't misunderstand, I am not saying other people shouldn't be able to use that final stall, because that's just impractical and greedy of me. However, I am imploring you brilliant readers to be considerate and to not reserve the larger stall for the times when your IBS acts up or you are having projectile morning sickness. [Tangent: Theoretically, I get it. If you go on a longer flight, you consider bumping it up to first class for the leg room. Why should your bathroom time be any different? I'll tell you gimpy folks are left with your "leavins," and that aspect is something that most people don't consider. ]

As a wise old needlepoint sampler once taught me, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the seatie." That is all.


  1. I still couldn't bring myself to look. I'm praying the sweet cleaning lady will remove all traces of this yet-to-be-identified mystery substance before we all have to venture back there Monday...

  2. I always use the handicap stall, because it is the most comfortable and roomy of all of the stalls (this probably makes me an awful person, huh?). In my experience though (at least at my place of employment), all of the stalls are horrendous.

  3. i am not going to lie. i relish using the unapologetically large handicapped stalls, because it is a nice change from the alleged "accessible" stalls that are so narrow and impassable, i practically have to ask my friends to lower me through a hole in the roof on a small mat just so i can go pee.

    that being said, the one at the hard rock cafe has its own sink. i feel a little better about paying 12 dollars for a hamburger there, now that i know part of the proceeds goes to the Master Bath.


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