Tuesday, March 03, 2009
If you like it when this blog goes on wild, random tangents then strap yourself in...because this one is a doozy.
So yesterday morning at work, it was about an hour after I had finished my daily twenty ounces of coffee and my bladder was it's usual filled to the brim. For some stupid reason, I wait until the last possible moment before I leave my cube to take a piss. So I'm pretty much dead-sprinting to the bathroom to try and avoid peeing all over myself which I once drunkenly accomplished at a church festival (that is a story for another day, but let's just say that you should always remember to unzip while urinating).
Now, we all know that no matter how clean a bathroom may seem, something is always awry. To steal a line from Dave Attell, it makes no difference what you use or how you try to cover it up, a john always stinks of lemons and ass. And my office shitter is no different.
But as I walked in there yesterday for a 5 minute tinkle, it was different. The customary rank scent was shockingly pleasant and familiar. It smelled like sausage in there. I made quick notice of someone occupying the middle stall and my mind was wandering about what the hell was going on in there today. I usually like to make sure that at least 15-20% of my piss finds the floor, you know, because fuck that place. I like to think that I allow those crafty illegals to earn their minimum wage. This aroma, however, was distracting me from being an asshole.
I finish my business still spellbound by what the hell could possibly be going in that middle stall. I narrowed it down to two possibilities:
1. The guy in there was making himself a monumental breakfast while taking a shit; which is both disturbing and disgusting
2. The guy's diet was comprised entirely of Jimmy Dean ground sausage logs
Either way, I don't know if I'll ever eat breakfast again. It makes me not miss meat all that much more. Shit stories...that's what you get from this blog. I'm what you call a classy fella.