The #2 Man in the Office

Today at work, I sauntered my way into the office bathroom. The office bathroom is never fun, and always filled with quirky surprises. Today’s surprise, however, above-and-beyond eclipsed my standards of the weirdest shit (ha!) that I have seen in my 24 years and 11 months of using the toilet.
Today, in the office bathroom, the guy next to me was taking, yes, let this settle in, a stand-up dump. Yup. I said it. Dood was dumping in the vertical position. The only other option I can wrap my head around is that he was filling up a coffee mug with some Santorum. As most would likely attest, the office bathroom is a world of its own. Not sure about the Ladies Room, but the Mens room is a pretty funky place. Lotta shit goes down in there. Literally. Hiyo! But, seriously. You hear some weird ass noises in there, and we’re not talking about those generally associated with using the restroom: grunts, moans, sighs, yips, yelps, sobs, bobs, etc etc. I mean, what the fuck is going on there that I am missing? Sitting through someone else’s dump gives the soundtrack/symphonic chorus of what I would imagine a party in the back of a Wesvalia van at Woodstock used to produce. The bathroom noises are analogous to everything from, but not limited to: chugging liquids (huh?), boking smowls, chopping up and gettin down on a gator tail, euphoric giggles induced by boom booms or doses, and the restless body movements that, to my limited experiential knowledge, were exclusive to coitus. This morning, it literally sounded like the Nitrous Mafia was rehearsing for their lot scene at Panic’s upcoming Wood Tour (Silver Spring shyows were awe-shum, myan), but I saw neither a tank nor balloons. What the fuck was making that hissing sound? Does the dude from accounting have an office pet snake? Lotta rough horseplay goin on in there.

Back to the original idea here: stand-up dump? Who fricken stands up when they go #2? Granted, one of my friends, Bug Mooseantler, is trending towards the majority of his dumps being in true “reverse-cowgirl” style (he likes to set down his laptop on the shelf and browse the interwebs); but, standing up? Where the fuck are we, on a camping trip? “Hey myan, you need me to toss you some moss to clean up over there? Be sure to bury the TP at least 300 yards away from any water source! Cya back the campsite. I’ll save you an extra Smore!”

Oh well. At least it’s not what I just found out, after running into an old teacher/coach last Tuesday: here’s how the kids at my hike skewl are using the school bathrooms these days: white off of the fricken urinals! I mean, come on. Grow a pair. Be an athlete. If you can’t make it through math class without taking a gummy, you’ve got yourself some serious problems. Whatever happened to ducking out during a free period to a cul-de-sac for a quick pull on the one-ie? Fucking kids these days, with their walkmen, nintendo, and casual bumps on a Tuesday morning. That noise wouldn’t have flown in my day. We had fun the good old fashion way: like beating up kids that did coke in high school bathrooms. (I’m theman). Also, we didn’t have any of those high-tech birth control methods. Like pulling out. (Dirty Work)