Archives for August 2005

I got a rough start to the day. Due to circumstances somewhat beyond my control I didn’t go to bed until a few minutes after one and I distinctly remember looking at the clock at 1:15 am and wondering why my eyes were opened.

My daughter is teething now. She is 13 months an until the other day had about three teeth, or at least those were the ones we could see. She is now intent on proving that she can cut new teeth faster than sharks and has moments in which she turns into the Exorcist baby. She screams and flails and is generally miserable.

Most of the time these bouts hit her somewhere in the middle of the night, ok they hit during the day too, but since I am working I miss most of them. But I sure didn’t miss her at 4 am this morning. Tried hard to console her and make her feel better but by 4:30 I was relatively certain that sleep was unlikely and by 5:15 had confirmed it.

Left the house shortly afterwards to go to work and was midtrip when I realized that nature was hollering at me. Quickly pulled into the local Walgreens where I had to force my way by three young men who were on the tail end of an all-night long bender.

Hit the stall just in time and was pleased to see that Gigantor had not managed to follow me and then was unpleasantly surprised to discover that the toilet paper in Walgreens is organic. They gave me Pine Cones and leaves with a sprinkling of sandpaper. Ok, don’t, silence is better.

For some of you this will be in the category of too much information, but what the hell is wrong with the manufacturers of toilet paper. Am I unfamiliar with some law of basic hygiene that says that if your tuchus is not on fire you are not properly clean. Is there some sadistic SOB who needs to know that he has incredible control over others.

What is so hard about supplying soft toilet paper or even a small pressure washer. Why do I need to be reminded hours later that I had this experience. I don’t know.

Enough on that and now for a word about getting dressed in the dark. Not unlike many others I am fortunate enough to own several pairs of shoes. Just so that it is clear, I am not like so many women who must own at least 700 pairs of shoes. And yes I am the guy that went to the Shoe Blog and argued with people there because I could.

Anyway, I grabbed what I thought were a pair of black shoes and went to work. It wasn’t until I got here that I realized that I am wearing two different shoes. They are both black, but they are not the same. So I have now forced the two to intermarry, The Rockports just met their distant cousins the other Rockports. No word yet on whether the shidduch was truly successful.

All I know is that I am tired and cranky and today is the day when my bite will be far worse than my bark. And to the truckdriver on the freeway who drove that rig as if his own ass were on fire, let us be happy that you and I didn’t get to dance today. You damn near killed me you big oaf.

Ok, one quick cleansing breath and I am returning to my normal state of calm and collected coolness. Oh, who am I fooling. I am pissed off and it will take a little while for me to calm down.

Last week I wrote about my elevator experience so today I thought that I would share my latest experience with the growing lack of courtesy in society, but most specifically in my office building.

This afternoon I headed off to the restroom. Long time readers may recall that this past January I wrote about a man whose odor nearly forced evacuation of the building or at least the purchase of a new Hazmat suit. I kind of like the one in white. It is traditional and somewhat elegant with a bit of a modern feel to it. But the one on the left is cool too. I do enjoy a nice blue. It goes so well with my olive skin.
You may also recall another bathroom themed entry a few months ago. In that one I discussed a number of other issues related to bathroom activities.

But today I have a new one to share with you, a new experience that needs to be presented to the world because surely I am not the only person to have this happen.

It was almost the end of the business day and three cups of coffee and lunch were demanding a quick exit. They were pounding on the door and begging to be let go the way Midwesterners pour into California midwinter begging for sunshine.

And thus I found myself hurrying down the hall to the establishment in which I could attend to these needs. And that is where my story really begins.

I was in serious need and required immediate attention so as I entered the room I was unbuckling my belt because haste was required. With due speed I entered my stall and was already occupied when I noticed that there was a third foot in my stall.

I looked down in disbelief. A third foot wearing a scuffed up pair of black wingtips. I own two pairs and they both are beautifully polished so I knew that it was not my foot. Ok, I knew for obvious reasons, but just go with it.

Not only was this foot in my space, it was in a place that I hold sacred. That space and privacy is mine and mine alone and there was an invader. So I stared at the foot and pondered what to do. I wear a 12 Triple E. For the ladies that means that I have a very large foot, but this one was bigger. So it stood to reason that he was probably larger than myself.

And I began to consider just how big this man could be that he would require so much space. It occurred to me that all things being proportional and equal he might be quite large, so kicking his foot might not be the best course of action. Yet at the same time I was reluctant to ask him to move it because he had to be aware that I was in there and still he didn’t move it.

I began to get irritated with this jerk who so thoughtlessly had taken my land. I was angered at having to sit in the Occupied Stall and I considered what form of resistance to take. The more I sat there with his foot the more irritated I became.

Finally I gently bumped his shoe and apologized for getting it dirty. He said “what” and I explained to him that I had run out of toilet paper and had taken advantage of the uneven surface of his shoe to clean myself.

There was a mighty grunt and the shoe was removed. Simultaneously I burst out of my stall and washed my hands in world record time and headed out of the restroom for freedom. It was a rough moment, but I was proud of having freed my land from the occupier with nonviolent means.

But I fear that there will come another day in which Gigantor and I will be forced to share a small space again.