Today's classic entry is one I feel very strongly about. This is something that I have to deal with all too frequently, and causes normal-thinking males all over the world needless trauma on a daily - nay, hourly - basis. I am, of course, talking about:
When I am not training the next generation of Troublemakers or fighting virtual avatars of Batista and Edge, I am mostly at work. This is where I get most of my writing done, despite it being a horribly dull and non-stimulating environment. It's more about the down time that is available. Nothing at the job has ever really given me anything to write about. With today's exception.
The bathroom should be a quiet place where one can be alone with their thoughts and focus on the task at hand. What is going on in there is (or should be) intensely personal, and for most standard individuals should require no outside intervention. By this I mean that the fucking bathroom is not an appropriate venue for conversation.
My place of employment is plagued with persons who seem to think it perfectly acceptable to just chat about any old thing while you are standing there, trapped, member in hand, trying desperately to finish so that you can get away from this demented freak who deems the weather an important enough topic to engage in discourse while the two of you are in a small room together with your penises just out and exposed. NO. If you are a dude and you are going to talk to me while any portion of my lower anatomy is exposed, you had better have a good fucking reason, jack. The building better be on fire, or Ted DiBiase better be handing out a million dollars in the kitchen. Not, "Hey did you see that Michael Phelps fella the other night?" There needs to be an imminent situation occurring. I'm not in there to host the fucking McNeil-Lehrer Hour of "I don't really know you that well, but here is a general topic like the weather," bullshit.
If you truly feel the need to have a conversation with me, come over to my work station (I know I'm only sitting there for about eleven and a half hours each shift, but I'm sure I can manage to squeeze you in if you really have that desperate a need to discuss last week's WNBA playoffs), where both of us have our pants on and let's have us a chat. DO NOT wait until both of us are groinally exposed to assault me with "So is it hot enough out there for you? Ha ha ha!"
The biggest violators of the Men's Room Etiquette (I say "Men" because I have no idea what goes on in the Ladies' room – nor do I want one) seem to have one thing in common – they are old. Now, when I say old I mean over forty. I know that might be offensive to some folks, but I doubt any of them are going to read this. And if they did, I'm sure they would follow you into the bathroom to discuss it. I haven't really been able to figure out any other uniting qualities of these invasive individuals. I guess some of them are that overly-gregarious, in-your-face happy types that ask how you're doing and actually want to know. Weirdos.
I would also like to head off anybody that would read this and call me homophobic. I don't give a shit where anybody wants to park their pecker as long as it isn't in me or a kid. I would steal a line from Joe Rogan and say that I am simply "cock-conscious". I like mine just fine, but I don't ever need to think about yours; and if you are standing there peeing and talking to me, I can guarantee you the only thing going through my mind is "Oh my gosh, he is really just going to stand there and focus attention on me while he is holding his cock! AAAAAAAGH!" That is no good. Men should only talk to each other if they both have pants on and those pants are fastened properly. And never in the bathroom.
In closing, I suppose this may have come off as a little harsh, but it has been building up for quite some time now. I'm not the kind of guy who can just say "Don't talk to me in here." You want to know why? Because I don't fucking talk to other dudes in the fucking bathroom! And neither should you.
Good night and God bless.