Touchdown

Smokey Bones makes a sport of using the restroom

So many awkward moments between my office door and the restroom stall. The hallway is about 40 feet long and maybe 5 feet wide which provides for a very awkward stare down should someone start walking from one end while I am just beginning my trek from the opposite end. It’s a hallway… carpet, wallpaper-ish stuff and fluorescent lights above… what else can you look at besides the person who is rapidly approaching you, yet feels like it’s in slow motion in your head? It’s like that song that plays in just about every movie scene that has some sort of person to person race… just as they are about to reach the finish line… I cannot convey voice inflection on a webpage so I don’t know how else to explain it other than that! As we get closer, my brain starts to freak a little “Smile? Say hi? Say something? Wait, smile now or when he/she is 5 feet closer? Oh god… what do I do?”

It’s all pretty pathetic really.

We pass… and regardless of what took place when we were face to face, I always have the same “you idiot” look on my face and ask myself “what the **** did you just say?”

Then there is the shocking statistic that 7 out of 10 times I visit the restroom, someone is… “leaving presents.” Startling… I know.

The worst part is when both stalls are occupied and the “shitter” has the gall to walk out first and smile at me with a shit eating grin on her face (pun intended) as if she knows she’s torturing me (this only happens with one person and I think she gets some sort of sick pleasure out of it).

Please enter the restroom through the entry on the right, and exit through the other, so as to avoid traffic jams.

We were at Wal-Mart the other day to pick up some meds, and I stopped in the front restroom for a minute. When I walked in, a blind man was leaving a stall with his dark glasses and swinging his cane as he approached the sink to wash up. I wasn’t at the urinal long, so I went to the sink right as he was leaving.

Outside the doorway, I heard the cleaning guy asking the blind man if there was anyone else in there. He said, “No,” and walked on. The cleaning guy was getting his cart in position to block off the doorway while I was coming out. He let out a frustrated groan and pushed the cart back to let me through.

I bit my tongue and tried not to laugh. The dumbass asked a blind man if there was anyone else in the bathroom – I’m sure he didn’t see anyone! – and gets frustrated that I was inside. The cleaning guy had no one to groan at but himself.

I dunno. Maybe I should have farted or something to announce my presence.

Heh.  McDonald’s wrote back about my brief stop and UrbanSpoon.com review (posted with pictures) the other night.

Here’s the message below, that rides the “impersonally personal response” line quite well.

Someone got rid of the pictures at UrbanSpoon.com… perhaps they were flagged as inappropriate?  I can see that.  Oh well, no reason I can’t show them here.

Here’s my review…

“Sadly, had the best service there tonight in years…” by ERiC AiXeLsyD (98 reviews)
November 29, 2009 - Doesn’t like it – Small crew tonight, decent night-time crowd, stopped for a late dinner, was served relatively quickly… fries were a perfect golden color and hot… burgers were OK, super-greasy but it IS McDonald’s. We were out at an event earlier, on the way home… had to use the facilities… but they were trashed. Stall #1 had no TP dispenser, the roll was on the back of the commode, and the bowl was chock full of the stuff. Stall #2 had a broken doorknob/lock mechanism. One hand dryer was stuck on, the other didn’t work, and both urinals were full of urine. I know they can’t control flushing… but periodic checks/cleanings and some repairs might be in order.  Just when I thought this place had their stuff together for once… My advice? When stopping here, use the facilities somewhere else.

1 person likes this review Recommend

And here’s their response with my message submitted through the McWebform following below…

From: McDonalds.CustomerCare@us.mcd.com
To: eric_aixelsyd@yahoo.com
Sent: Tue, December 1, 2009 5:14:49 AM
Subject: Message from McDonald’s USA

Hello Eric:

Thank you for taking the time to contact McDonald’s Customer Service Center to bring your recent experience to our attention.First, I hope you will accept my sincere apology for your disappointment in McDonald’s. I can assure you that we want you to be completely satisfied every time you visit one of our restaurants.Because most McDonald’s restaurants are independently owned and operated, I have forwarded your comments to the franchise owner or local representative for follow up at the restaurant you visited. Please be assured that your comments will be investigated and, if appropriate, corrective action will be taken.

 

Secondly, although we did not completely meet your expectations, please know that our restaurant employees strive to maintain the highest standards of quality, service, cleanliness and value and it’s certainly nice to know that their efforts are appreciated. We want to recognize your complimentary comments and thank you for your kind words.

Again, thank you for taking the time to contact McDonald’s and giving us the opportunity to address your concerns. Customer feedback is very important to us as it helps us improve. McDonald’s is number one because of customers like you.

Ashley
McDonald’s Customer Response Center

ref#:6502666

————————————————————————————————————–

Please do not “reply” to this email response. No “replies” can be received through this mailbox. If you wish to contact McDonald’s Customer Response Center again, please visit our website at www.mcdonalds.com

You wrote:

The crew in the place tonight seemed to be operating well, were friendly, and quickly as far as the food was concerned, but the parking lot was full of cars for the bar next door, and the men’s bathroom was disgusting.  Please see this link for a review & photos: http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/23/1346713/restaurant/Far-South-South-Hills/McDonalds-Pittsburgh

Rarely is this kind of stuff ever followed up by the local chain. I don’t know if that’s indicative of stores nation-wide, or just in our area.  Then again… it gets me wondering…  I put my address in that webform… and my photo is up at UrbanSpoon.com.

Bad idea?

One of the biggest issues facing cross-dressers or anyone in the gender community is the use of public bathrooms. When one is out dressed as their chosen gender what do you do? Now I have been getting out more and more and this now comes up more often for me. Now I have always tried to use common sense on this issue, I really do not want to use the men’s room while out as Susan as I think this would cause more of a problem and be a little more dangerous for me.

I myself try to find a family rest room if possible, most malls have one. I have found this to be the best option. If there is no family restroom then I look for one in a store (like Nordstrom’s or Macy’s most department stores have their own) over one in the mall. This is for the simple reason they are usually less busy. I can also shop in the area for a few minutes (woman’s bathrooms are usually in the woman’s department) and keep an eye on it so I can time it when there is the least amount of woman in there. The key is to not look like you are watching the bathroom as that would look bad. The other most helpful thing is to not act scared or nervous as this will draw attention to you. If you come across as if you don’t belong there others will feel the same way. Try to act calm and confident as if it is totally natural for you to use the woman’s bathroom. Now these are my tips and views and I must admit the better you pass the fewer problems you will have. If they clock you right away there is more of a chance of a problem then if they have to make a decision about you and weather you are female or not. One they could be wrong and two by the time they are sure hopefully you will be out and gone.

 A little etiquette, be sure and sit, take care of business, please wash your hand and if needed a quick touch up on makeup and then leave. If we limit our time in there then there is less of a chance of a problem. I also try to use the restroom on the way out that way if someone does have a problem hopefully I will be gone before something happens. Remember that how we all act reflects on all of the gender community. Now again as so far I have been lucky and not had a problem but I think if I did I would not push what I thought my rights, I would just leave and go someplace else. Most stores I do not believe would make an issue unless someone complained as they are in business and need all the customers they can get especially now with the state of the economy.

This topic has come up a lot in the t-girl group I belong to here in Portland Oregon and Cassandra went ahead and e-mailed the city of Portland and they forwarded her e-mail right to the Mayor’s office here in Portland Oregon. Below is the e-mail and the answer she got back after they consulted the cities attorney’s office. It basically say’s in Portland Oregon we should feel free to use the bathroom of our expressed gender but needs better clarification. We should always remember that there are also laws (public nuisance or public indecency) that could also be used if there was a complaint and a police officer was not sure. So let’s all be courteous and as discreet as possible as to not create a problem and maybe someday this will not even be an issue. A big thanks to Cassandra for finding some answers and also to Portland for getting back to us with an answer.

 Hi Everyone, When that question came up about which bathroom to use in public places for the trans community, I contacted the city with that specific question. The person I contacted forwarded the question directly to the Mayors office and they checked with their attorneys and here is the email they sent back to me. Here is our answer for now. Andrew is with the city of Portland and Clay is with the Mayors office.

Cassandra

 Hi Andrew,

 Yes. Yesterday afternoon, I chatted with one of our attorneys who helped me understand what the current rules are. Basically, this is the situation: part H is a requirement of the party responsible for the “permanent or temporary structures” referred to in part A, which means that the City (or overseer of any public restroom) must “provide reasonable and appropriate accommodations permitting all persons access to restrooms consistent with their expressed gender.” It was understood by the attorney’s office, that this insinuates that a person should utilize the public restroom that is associated with their expressed gender but that there is no clear-cut rule or exception for gender-variant persons.

Violation of these rules is only enforced on a complaint-driven basis and, frankly, we don’t know of any complaints being filed in the city. That said, we do want all citizens in Portland to feel confident, comfortable, and safe in their daily activities, including in choosing which public restroom to use – it’s only logical and fair. For the here and now, Cassandra should feel relatively confident that she can utilize the restroom of her expressed gender (female).

However, I would like to extend a thank you to Cassandra for bringing this to our attention – the policy is much too vague and needs a review. We are considering how to best move forward so that city regulations pertaining to public restrooms are clear and accommodating. Please let me know if you have thoughts on how to do so.

Sincerely,

Clay

Ah yes, the blog finally starts to deal with the finer aspects in life – such as, the restroom.

Mine’s shiny. That’s partly the reason why I lie to get inside it, twenty times a day. I love the hand-wash, and apparently, I had a dream that it returned my feelings.
But, that ain’t exciting. Especially when you see that it doesn’t care for touch as much as you’d like. Its content if I pass my hand under it for the flow. That’s just not the Rafa Benitez way.

The latrine is kept cleaner than your dining table. Mainly because we use five different types of cleaners. So I really enjoy sitting on it, as close to birth as I can get, and read my favorite comic books.

I like the Thing. Batman, he’s got cool gizmos. But the webster is ofcourse Spidey. I’m so addicted, that I grow miniature versions of him, especially in places of my restroom hard to get at with a broom-on-a-pole.

Then, there is the omnipotent hose. No, not ho’s. Hose.
Its not Jose either.

I think they call it silverwear, but I never found much use for it on my body. I like to pretend I’m a fireman by turning it on at full power and blasting the stupid washing machine. I also use it to reach the inaccessible areas.

There’s a kind of whole ecosystem in that hose. For example, the neighbours come to sleep on it if they sold their mattress to the Maple Tree. The lizards and the cockroaches rent it pretty often too.

Look before you leap eh? It should have more of grab in it.

I grabbed the hose, and I am confronted with the alpha-male of geckos. A complete 10 inches long, scaling reptilian. First instinct? Wow, the decorators sure did a good job lining the hose with rubber.

I allowed it to wriggle out of my grasp, for it had to return to the matchup versus the Dragonfly. As far as I had observed, (while not reading the comics), the dragonfly was giving our gecko the stick. It should teach that wall sticking lumberjack to get a dose of its own medicine.

The big bad boys from the insect world are usually the roaches. They run around, or fly, faces covered in huge gas masks and bill boards which read, “Jesus loves you. So does Barney”. What better remark when you’re busy drying yourself or relieving yesterday’s rice?

Ants are the stark opposite of Party Balloons. Well, not really. They are hot. And they can glide on air. They carry stuff, either above or below themselves.

But party balloons aren’t hard-working. Neither do they have mandibles which could make you wish you had a Doberman stuck up your arse instead.

The first I saw of them, was when I attempted to sing. Understandably, they were annoyed when I disturbed their afternoon siesta. Either that or they are plain mean. I’d go with the latter.

I took out the hose and held on to it for dear life. Then, I realized that I had got into knee-deep shit. For I noticed the big gaping hole in the washing machine and the wall. And the long column of ants.

I also heard the intro before they air my favorite TV show. Then, I lost my cool.

It was every jackass for himself.

Preparing to press the trigger as the solitary ant made a bee-line towards me, I saw my life flash past. The School. Argh! I meant something good, goddamnit, I’m about to die and all my brain cares about is giving me short shrift.

Of couse, I remembered the telephone. Oh yes What a nice little gadget that was! It was so conservative and helpful that I didn’t receive a bill in excess of 10 bucks every year. Thats because it didn’t work.

Good old days. I was hit by what I would call as nostalgia when I remembered that I once had held the world record in the racing game I used to play. Then, I realized that the nostalgia was the result of a huge fire ant doing a hand-stand on my leg.

You probably haven’t seen my kind before.. they have huge back legs, tiny front legs, can swim in water and speak English.

“Eww you taste like muk!”
I brush the cheeky arthropod off my leg and deliver the ‘Coup de grâce’ with a gently push on the trigger. That should teach them!

Unfortunately, the column of ants had managed to bring out their cavalry.
Now, I was faced with a whole army of ants.

One jumped from the overhead shower.

Then something flashed past my eyes… before I could swat it, I noticed that it was gulping down the ant faster than you could say ‘Pizza’.
Aha! I had allies! The dragonfly and lizard had given up the hopeless friendly match for a much more inviting free-for-all buffet of ants.

So, we squared up. The opponents, small little things called Antz. Us, we was the human-lizard-fly combination. I am pleased to say I added weighty substance to our team.

That was till I hadn’t seen the Queen.

She was a huge ant (disguised cleverly as a pink lollipop). What was worse, she still had her price tag on. This was when I was about to say, the gloves are off.. then I realized that I could no longer do that statement justice :|

So I shouted, Chaaarge! The ants flexed their cutters and acid-sprays and each of eight legs in preparation. My ‘team’?

Provided somewhat a mixed response. The gecko was lazier than the average bachelor, licking its eyes with its long tongue. I paused to contemplate the strategy. It could be a good move, scaring the enemy to death with ugly faces and smelly bodies. Uhm.

So I made it clear he could no longer stick around (pun not intended) and he made his customary dive to freedom inside the latrine.

I could distinctly pick up the words ‘Man Down! Man Down!’ and ‘Die Scumbag!’

I turned around to see a giant lollipop flinging its body towards my face.
I jumped up and over and heard a sickening ‘Plop!’ followed by ‘Glub Blg.. GLUB!’

Ha! My clever tactics of appearing to laze about had cost the queen dearly! Now she was stuck face down into the delivery tube, which conveniently, I had forgotten to flush.

I realized I was doing a tight rope act, standing on the pointy end of the queen. The dragonfly was pinned down by squadrons of termites, but they all froze once they saw that their queen was going face down to the leader so soon.

I am generally very kind. So I only jumped up and then down thrice. Then I broke her back … ‘crraaack!’.
I knew all those hours of economics would someday do me good.

Now, the angry mound came out to wreak havoc upon my bathroom. Nothing was spared, not me, or the handwash. They didn’t even give me enough time to turn this to a romantic adventure, or a perfectly normal soap opera.

I was not particularly worried when the dragonfly was being torn apart and called me ‘traitor’. I say, buzz off.

Next thing I know, my arms, legs and eyes are covered in a huge slimy moving reddish mass of antz. I still remember the burning… the pain…
I closed my eyes.

And awoke, to a wholly new kind of hell. Today was exam day. I would have to dissect them antz. Again.

“They sure don’t make random ant attack novel comic thingies like they used to”

Hotel Tip #37

It’s a common thing in an Interstate Hotel to have weary travelers come bursting through the lobby doors in a mad dash to the restroom. This is fine. We at the Front Desk completely understand that you’ve probably been on the road with a driver that refuses to stop for any reason other than death or possibly dismemberment and your bladder can only take so much abuse before it starts to rebel against you and cause you extreme embarrassment.

There are, however, some courtesy rules that you should probably know before you step a single toe into my lobby restroom.

If you happened to miss the sign outside the restroom door declaring the proceeding room to be of the unisex variety, you should certainly be aware of this fact once you lock the door behind you. (And please, DO lock the door. Housekeepers aren’t famous for being able to speak English and they don’t, as a rule, always knock before trying to enter through an unlocked door.) Unisex restrooms means that the person that sat on that toilet before you was most likely of the opposite sex, and the person after you most likely will be also.

We have now established the definition of a unisex restroom. Pay attention.

Men:
When you use my lobby restroom to break the seal, please have some common courtesy and lower the lid/flush the toilet/aim correctly. This has nothing to do with the feminist movement or I Am Woman Hear Me Roar. I can tell you from first hand experience that walking into the restroom and being greeted with the stench of a stranger’s urine all over the toilet lid and the floor, and hoping that the toilet doesn’t clog from the gummy film that has formed inside the bowl because said stranger didn’t flush when he made use of the facilities over 5 hours ago is NOT one of those happy smells that beings back memories of childhood. It makes me want to vomit and kick you out of my hotel. No soup for you.

Women:
It’s a fact of life that Aunt Flo will visit you once every 28-32 days. Most of you have timed her visits so precisely that you are adequately prepared for her ugly face. Sometimes, however, there are accidents. I understand this. Should you have an accident anywhere near the vicinity of my lobby restroom, please understand that I do not have a Hazmat suit on hand to remove the soiled panties that you left stuffed behind the commode, and you should either place them in the provided trash can or put them in your pocket. I watched a gore-filled horror flick last night that was less terrifying than the thought of being within 20 feet of your nasty undergarments.

As with all hotel courtesy rules, these are optional to follow.

But please be warned that should you choose to follow your own path, it’s a very likely possibility that you will be the subject of a popular internet blog.

Choose wisely.

This is Not a Bathroom (332/365 11-28-2009)

Originally uploaded by CarusoPhoto

Normally I don’t bring cameras into public restrooms–it just gives off too much of a “creepy uncle” vibe.

However, when I saw this scene–and given I was alone–I just had to make an exception.

He’s all for efficiency and saving both time and resources.  He’s no time thief.  On a daily basis, he asks himself “…for every decision [I] make, is this good for the company?  Am I helping with the company’s strategic vision?”

That’s great he is so committed to the company and what he does. But really, can he not take a five minute break for a little personal time?  We’ve all had that sinking suspicion that when we’re on the phone with him, something isn’t quite right.  There’s an odd echo.  His voice periodically sounds like he is straining.  You’re hearing noises that you shouldn’t hear on a regular phone call.  You wonder to yourself if the call signals got crossed.  Sadly no, your deepest and darkest fear has come true.  He has been multitasking while in the bathroom.

Although we’re sure (i.e. hope and pray) he washed his hands when he was done and used a hand wipe on his electronic gadgets, just to be in the free, don’t ask if you can use his phone or laptop.  And no sir, I will not shake your hand.  I have no interest in a 0.0000000001% chance of an inadvertent stink palm.

The buttonwood leaf (resembling much the more popular maple leaf) is the official logo of the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation. The department is responsible not only for the Central Park but for all public parks. The golden leaf on black indicates a New York City public park, playground, beach or athletic field.

Many of these parks – especially those with playgrounds – have clean and free public restrooms.

If you’re in need – watch out for the buttonwood leaf!

Like you didn’t see this coming.  Did you really think I was going to be in China for a month and not mention the beyond disgusting state of their toilets?  Notice how I refrained from commenting on them along the way?  I’ve been saving up kiddies.  Those of you holding a danish may want to put that down and rethink breakfast.

Toilets in China are revolting.  Absolutely, positively, disgusting.  We’re not talking the typical “ew” factor that is standard for public restrooms elsewhere.  We’re talking FOUL.  These things don’t get cleaned.  Ever.  And the vast majority of them (as in, it was a rarity for them not to be this way) involved poop where it isn’t meant to be, like someone took a dump on a random spot on the floor, or smeared it on the walls, or left piles of it scattered around in various stages of “freshness.”  Almost like it was a game to leave your mark in the form of poop.  This demanded that you not only bring your own toilet paper, but that you also bring a clean handkerchief everywhere you went to hold over your face, and perfect the art of holding your breath for hitherto unheard-of lengths of time.

So, there is the horrifyingly unhygienic state of the restrooms.  On top of that, there is the actual structure of the restrooms.  I’ve been to Asia once before, and after clocking in a solid two months into this trip, you can say I’m accustomed to the squat toilets.  Certainly not my favorite, and I avoid them where I can (Japan often had both “western” and “Asian” toilet options).  In China, there is no choice to be had.  Fair enough; I’m on your turf.  But what took me a solid three weeks to get over was the stalls.  The stalls vary in size and shape everywhere you go.  In other words, the height of the stalls is what changes.  Some places there are stalls that reach as high as they would elsewhere, blocking the view of those outside, as is standard for pretty much everywhere else.  Many places, however, have stalls that stopped below my waist.  I imagine this is waist-high for most Chinese (seeing as I towered over them), but still.  You stand up and you’re looking at your neighbor.  No no, let me repaint that for you: you walk into a room that looks like a maze and you can’t help but see dozens of people squatting and going about their business.  I’d have to squat just to drop my pants.  Luckily, I heard about this phenomenon a day or two before I first encountered it myself, so I didn’t freak out or shriek in total shock and horror.  But even then, the first time I walked into one of those, I visibly recoiled, and was like what the hell am I supposed to do with this??  Little did I know, I should have been thankful for the doors.  Yes, doors.  Doors are optional here in China.  Didn’t you know?  I encountered stalls without doors more often than I encountered short stalls.  And then there are the restrooms without doors or stalls.  As in, a row of holes in the ground.  Now THAT is a treat.

And the thing is, Chinese women take ALL DAY when they go to the bathroom.  Alllllll freakin’ day.  They just sit there, squatting over a hole in the ground, and think about the errands they need to do, how they really wish they had a husband with a full set of teeth, the meaning of life, and how best to stare and shove and scream at the next foreigner they encounter.  Me, I get in and get out.  A Chinese restroom is not somewhere you want to be spending even a moment longer than needed.  But they sit there, without any doors, and stare at you.  STARE AT YOU.  This is a public restroom, people!  STOP STARING AT ME!  So my ass is a little whiter than yours.  So what of it?  Bugger off!

Then of course there is the matter of relaying to someone that you need a restroom in the first place.  “Restroom” and “bathroom” get you nowhere in Asia.  (I wouldn’t begin to try to convey “water closet.”)  You need to say “toilet.”  Which is horribly graphic and crass to me, but I’m under the impression that’s standard jargon for Europeans so perhaps that’s why Asians are groomed to understand “toilet.”  Most everyone understands the word “toilet,” even if they don’t speak any English beyond the customary “hello! bamboo! bamboo! hello! watch! money! hello! watch! bamboo!”  Even then, you are bound to encounter someone who doesn’t know the word “toilet” either.  In these circumstances, I found I got my meaning across by merely pointing at the ground.  Totally serious.  Just point at the ground, and you’re shown the nearest squat toilet.  Does this strike anyone else as horribly crass and barn animal-like, or am I the only one?

And then there is the phenomenon of babies in chaps.  Yep, you read that correctly.  Babies in assless chaps.  Crotchless chaps too, for that matter.  Every single baby in China is strapped into a pair of crotchless/assless chaps.  We’re talking infants on up to toddlers.  They look like standard baby clothes, with bright colors and whimsical prints on them, and are usually made of cotton.  (I’ve seen them in lighter cotton for the heat and thick quilted cotton for the cold, and even resembling puffy ski pants, sans crotch.)  The first time I encountered this was walking past a woman holding a baby on the street in Shanghai, and I was HORRIFIED.  I was all “lady, your kid’s ass is hanging out.”  It wasn’t until I saw one perched on the lap of his father on a subway that I realized the chaps were crotchless as well as assless, and the shock and horror grew further still.  I sat there, directly next to him, making faces and waving at him, the whole time keeping my legs as far away as possible from him; what happens when the baby needs to pee?  I mean, seriously.  That is a valid question.  Babies pee.  And poop.  A LOT.  And these people are carting them around IN CROTCHLESS ASSLESS CHAPS.  That has YOUR KID JUST SHAT ON ME written all over it.

Well, I’ll tell you what happens when babies need to pee.  I’ve witnessed it, quite a few times.  The parent stops, wherever he or she is, and squats down as if they were the ones about to go to the bathroom.  They then sit the kid on their lap, the baby’s legs spread wiiiiiiiiiide open, straddling his/her parent’s knees, and the baby pees/poops.  Right there.  WHEREVER THEY HAPPEN TO BE.  Usually, this is on a sidewalk.  I saw a few more considerate parents do this next to the street, as opposed to right in the middle of all the foot traffic.  I’ve seen this against the sides of buildings, on the floors of open kiosks, and once I even saw a woman put a plastic bag on the ground in a tree planter for her kid to then squat over, parent-free (I’d ballpark the kid was 4 or so, he was old enough to pull down his own pants and had hence graduated to fully covered pants).

Apparently peeing/pooping wherever one is at any given moment isn’t a big deal to the Chinese, and was downright standard behavior until very recently.  Even for grown adults.  As you might imagine, it got a bit out of hand.  People peeing and pooping all over the place.  The government installed millions of public toilets across the country, down back alleys and on main streets and out in the middle of nowhere, to curb its citizens from dropping trou in the street.  Furthermore, a huge ad campaign was required to convert these people to using toilets.  Not. Even. Kidding.  So for babies to be trained to act this way is quite normal for the Chinese; that’s what they were taught and what they did themselves until about ten years ago.

I understand the necessity for the chaps though.  Paper is hard to come by in China.  It’s an expensive commodity.  I haven’t seen diapers sold anywhere; I’m sure they’re outrageously expensive and ridiculously hard to come by.  I imagine the baby chaps evolved just as anything else does: out of need.

What I want to know is, how do the babies communicate to the parents “ok buddy, let me down, I’ve got to go.”  Sure, the toddlers can convey their meaning well enough.  But infants?  Babies at four, six, eight, ten months?  How is this communicated??

Babies in crotchless/assless pants is something I’m not sure I’ll ever grow accustomed to.  It’s WEIRD.  And it’s entertaining as hell when you’re walking through Xi’an’s Muslim Quarter with four American dudes and a toddler runs out into the street ahead of you and bends down to pick something up — you’ve got five disgusted Americans loudly groaning and fake-retching and shrieking in horror.  And one of the boys invariably asking “Which disturbed you more? His asshole or his balls?”

Mmmm, how ’bout that danish?

Seen here: http://www.cw.ua.edu/where-s-the-good-tp-1.2095803

He can still remember the horror to this day.  It was a sunny Monday afternoon and his chemistry class just let out.  He had another class in an hour, but first, he needed to make a pit stop.  Fresh Food Company’s ridiculously good “chocolate hand grenade pudding” waged war inside his intestines, forcing him to upgrade his order from a No. 1 to a No. 2 combo.

John faced the dreaded on-campus deuce drop.  Veterans probably understand that John’s problem began after he finished.

Most Capstonians probably have some complaint about the University.  Angst over student tickets, parking, tuition prices, and other issues has been expressed through various forms.

One matter has slipped through the cracks — but that is where its importance ultimately lies.

Ask any self-loving student what he or she can’t possibly skimp on, and toilet paper will dominate all other answers. Sadly, the University doesn’t share the same concern and stocks campus restrooms with rudimentary rear rags that cause much irritation.

“I didn’t know you could make sandpaper so thin,” one sophomore engineering major remarked.

Besides the well-being of current students, think of the impact on visiting recruits.   Imagine a potential enrollee has to build a home for the dung beetle, and he or she discovers that soft toilet paper is stocked in the bathroom stall.  That person would have to be crazy not to sign a letter of intent right then.  When a university busts their butts for their students’, it must be a good choice for education, too.

I caught up with one visiting high school student who humored me with her opinion on the far-reaching matter.

“If Alabama were to decide on buying better toilet paper, it would sure be a Charmin recruiting tactic,” she punned.

Also, the current behind stationary can cause problems in terms of clogging.  When students have to pull at the spool for minutes to form a suitable wad, toilets end up enduring unnecessary amounts of the material.

The wiping efficiency, calculated by sheet used per deposit at the porcelain bank, affects this the most.  Obviously, better brands tend to have higher efficiency numbers and decrease the amount of waste.

In addition, time spent in the restroom is lessened, making breaks between classes quicker.

Rolls with a higher thread count can help improve the lives of students in general.

“Sometimes, when my day is in the dumps, I just want a comfortable way to clean up,” said Lou, a junior majoring in finance. “The toilet paper the University uses now just really rubs me the wrong way.”

The costs and worth of this initiative would determine the possibility of its enactment, so a study and companion surveys would be needed.

I propose stocking a few stalls around campus with quality two-ply toilet paper and recording a few key results.  Is it used more than the current brand?  Do users clog the toilet more often with it?

One survey would account for the personal effects on participants.  A complementary one would ask students about potential impact of the switch.  Did or would it alter your mood?  Did or would your view on the university change?

Hopefully, this would provide an accurate depiction of the value and financial implications of this plan, and the University could arrive at an enlightened decision.

With the average person having one to three bowel movements a day, there is a good chance you will be on campus when the time is right. Or completely wrong.

Superior stall tissue can wipe all your worries away by quickly and pleasantly ending your previously apprehensive bathroom visit.

I’m not asking for silk.  I just want an affordable upgrade for the betterment of our student body.

!!!
The other day, I decided to use the restroom at Walgreens on Belmont and Broadway in Chicago. Walgreens is one chain that almost 100 percent of the time has a public restroom in Chicago. So that is definitely a good secret in case you have to take an urgent poop or pee. But you will also have to deal with the horrible maintenance of the bathrooms. In less than five minutes I could point out seven disgusting things about the bathroom:

1. Soap on the floor and walls, DISGUSTING, crusty, and probably 3 month old handsoap.

2. Dried white “who knows what” on the mirror. Are people brushing their teeth in the bathroom and splashing on the mirror?

3. Spilled coffee, or something disgustingly brown on the floor.

4. Pee still sitting in toilet from person before.

5. Coffee cup ring on toilet paper dispenser…disgustING!

6. Foamy moldy stuff on bottom of toilet, accompanied by a piece of chewed gum.

7. Coffee stains on “unused” toilet seat covers.

Now, if Walgreens offers a public restroom, the appearance should state something about how clean the store is. This just convinced me that the store is a royal and moldy mess!

Today (Wednesday), I will be focusing my thoughts on the ever-growing popular concept of advertising (as evidenced in the latter two “Austin Powers” movies). Specifically, I would like to call attention to some of our nation’s most bizarre forms of ads or, as I like to call it because it sounds clever and witty, “odd-vertising.” This piece will discuss three places I recently saw advertisements that I deemed odd. Keep in mind, however, that there is a fine line between what constitutes an oddly-placed ad and what is simply a desperately-placed ad, just like there is a fine line between quiet sanity and homicidal rage, which I myself am about to cross if the crazy bastard sitting across from me on the train as I write these words doesn’t stop talking to the damn window every ten seconds. For example, people may view an ad placed during the world network premiere of “Alexander” as odd or bizarre, when in all reality it is really nothing more than a desperate and pathetic move. Also, the fact that wireless phone service companies agree to sponsor movie theater messages telling you to silence your cell phones is not odd, but rather just plain stupid.

The first form of odd-vertising I saw was at a local diner, which was a part of my home township until a fire in its kitchen gave the nearby Dennys the upper hand in immediate area restaurants. As you are probably aware, buildings gutted by fire normally have their windows boarded up with large wooden slabs in the days, months, eras, etc. following the inferno. I never understood the point behind this, seeing as how wood is rather flammable and could easily be re-ignited by forgotten smoldering embers that the firefighters overlooked in their rush to quell the blaze so they could get back to drinking at the station. At least, I never understood the point of boarded-up windows until recently: to advertise the wood’s contractor. Seriously. The wooden slabs boarding up the windows of the township’s (former) local diner is prominently stamped with the name and number of a contractor. I’m not exactly sure what audience this contractor is hoping to seize, but, by the same token, it is a pretty ingenious way to show off exactly what he can do. I mean, he won’t get a a lot of calls for, say, building a house thanks to this form of “odd-vertising.”

I came across Example #2 while urinating…meaning not only did I earn another form of odd-vertising to enhance my point, but also earned the “Most Disgusting Sentence Beginning” Award, which was formerly held by the writer of the screenplay for “American Beauty,” which, if you have seen the Oscar-winning flick, has as its first sentence of dialogue “There I was, masturbating in the shower.” Nevertheless, the odd form of advertising in this instance was located on, seriously, a urinal pad. It wasn’t for a product but rather was the bland 1980s-era public service message “Say No To Drugs” followed by a 1-800 number in case, I don’t know, someone who the pisser knows says “yes” to drugs. No (further) offense, but if you take suggestions and phone numbers from a urinal pad, you have definitely got to be on SOMETHING not made from legal substances. Besides, doesn’t the mere fact that you’re literally pissing on the slogan pretty much kill the intent of the message?

The final form of odd-vertising that I can currently think of caught my eye at South Philadelphia’s Wachovia Spectrum several years back. I was there finishing up my self-guided walk-through tour of Lynton Harris’ “Nightmares on Broad Street” Halloween attraction which had used the sporting arena as its home base for most of October 2004. Striding quickly past the “Nightmares on Broad Street” souvenir vendors lining the Spectrum’s concourse (where the tour coincidentally ended), I spotted a rather oddly-colored turnstile, which is of course that revolving three-pronged object seen at the gates of most high-crowd places. Closer inspection revealed that the turnstile’s three prongs were actually covered with “Philadelphia Inquirer” and “Philadelphia Daily News” logos; these are obviously two large newspapers here in the City of Brotherly Love that apparently feel the need to corner the turnstile-passing-through market. I cannot recall any instance wherein I or anything human made their choice of newspaper based upon what they observed on the oversized counter granting them access to their overpriced sporting event.

In conclusion, I invite everyone, living and dead, to share with me any and all forms of oddly-placed ads you have come across while strolling around town or urinating. Sell-out nation that we are, I honestly doubt that advertisers did not stop at simply turnstiles, urinal pads, and boarded-up windows.

You ever come across those really tough decisions in life? I do; I’m torn here.

I don’t know…which would YOU rather use?