Vice Monkeys by 

SHAG

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2003-02-27

Maybe a little TMI

I am not a fan of public facilities. I don�t brag about this or anything. It�s merely that things for the masses are outside my personal comfort zone. I do use them on occasion, usually when necessity demands. Restrooms are the worst. I like to duck into a department store, preferably Nordstrom, with its smooth jazz and soft lighting. I hate using the Starbucks, because there is always a line, and I like to be discreet when it comes to bowel movements. (I appreciate anyone who kept a straight face after that last comment)

Anyway, I was having dinner with friends at this Chinese Restaurant down the street from a trendy art house theatre that allows us to feel better than the schmucks catching the latest Hollywood Blockbuster. I actually would have preferred a Hollywood Blockbuster because it�s near to Trader Joe�s and I�m in dire need of staples. Michael Moore may vilify the suburbs, but damn if they don�t have the best grocers. But such was not the case. No, instead we were downtown and nowhere near the Trader Joe�s.

In the middle of my Lemon Chicken I felt some discomfort, no doubt caused by all the meeting coffee I�ve been imbibing. There are a lot of boring meetings involved with new products and practices. And the temperature is always messed up so that it�s either cold enough to keep salads fresh or miserably uncomfortable and everyone leaves damp spots on the chairs and even polyester wrinkles. Sometimes in the same meeting. So, I politely excuse myself. It was a bit premature. It was going to happen, it just wasn�t happening. I am always afraid to �push� because years ago I overheard that would give one hemorrhoids and I�ve been paranoid about it ever since. I was in a hurry to get out of there, because not only was it a dank little bathroom with kitchen sounds coming from behind me, but because I was also paranoid that I was being timed on my absence from the table. And fearing the worst about my entr�e. The toilet paper was obviously made from recyclables, I am thinking grocery bags. It was an odd color. I don�t know if I was careless, or afraid of the kitchen noises or what. But the wiping hurt. Damn cheap recycled toilet paper. It had made a noise like I was striking a match from a book. Tears touched the corners of my eyes and I longed for the rolls of Charmin under the bathroom sink. I was going to need one of those donuts to sit down. I had my second pass in hand, ready to go. I felt its abrasive harshness in my hand. Places that skimp on the toilet paper should be forced by law to put in a vending machine like the ones in the women�s side that dispense tampons, but instead sell Cottenelles. I would have paid a dollar, I bet. Maybe more.

I winced as I sat down, back at the table. People noticed. I�m rapidly gaining a rather strange reputation.

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Email Entry, Just for Laughs - 2006-01-25
Stupid Names - 2006-01-03
Something quick - 2005-11-18
Updates from Utah - 2005-09-01
Cha-Cha-Changes - 2005-07-07

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