Why, when you’re peeing, do you flush before, during AND after? What is that!?
I don’t know that it’s dirty, because I doubt anyone else does this … but why are you leaning forward so that your head is resting on the wall?
Why, when you’re done, do you shake it like you’re angry at it? You should get that figured out, with someone else.
Why did you look over, and then when you saw it was me, start a conversation? Why for all of that? Why? If it was someone else, would you have not started talking? If so, can I be added to the list of not-talking people?
Why do you do a cartoon super villain laugh, where it starts slow and gets faster and louder and your eyes get large and you look around the room in a challenging manner … Nah, just kidding. That’s me. I do that. It’s my ONE quirk, ok? Everyone is allowed one. My sincerest apologies for any and all males though.
No talkie, please.
1. Airplane – this one is fairly obvious, airplanes are crammed for anyone, let alone Legs McGee over here. (This also applies to long road trips. If you’re flexible then you end up looking like a weird spider-human, legs sticking out all which ways (it’s creepy).)
2. Couch surfing – “I know the couch isn’t that long but you can curl up,” curl is the imperative word.
3. Public bathrooms – woe is you the day a fellow tall man walks in and you, having just stood up in a stall, make eye contact with him.
4. Any place older folks are (if you are not athletic) – no I didn’t play basketball, and yes I’d like to hear about how I am a waste of perfectly good height.
5. Cube farm workplace – where’s … Oh I see him. Also: be very cautious if you work with short folks who are fast walkers, you don’t want to round a corner and accidentally be an NHL enforcer board-checking them.
When I was very young I had a conversation with my grandma that really impacted my outlook on religion. She was convinced that I had gone to the bathroom and had not washed my hands. This was annoying to me because I HAD washed my hands (duh grandma, I’m not gross). But she didn’t believe me. In her eyes I was a 3rd/4th grader, and therefore a slimy, dirty little kid (I think she found boys to be naturally more gross than girls – which may be accurate – but I wash my hands thank you).
I’m clearly still upset about the hand washing. (But don’t worry I have a solution for when people DON’T wash their hands!)
I went back and washed my hands. Again. When I left my grandma was waiting to give me a little speech. I have no idea what exactly she said to me, but I know in the speech she involved God and how He was always watching. He would know if I washed my hands or not. Of course the intention here was to permanently put the fear of God in me in the form of hand washing (one of God’s pet peeves perhaps?).
Except it didn’t work quite like that. One, because I had already washed my hands. Two, because it made me think God was watching me use the bathroom. This was a very unsettling thought.
From there the idea changed in shape some. The idea of someone seeing everything was too much for me to comprehend. (Yes, God is incomprehensible and all that, that’s cool, but … my mind won’t allow that, it’s too engineering-y) The way it worked in my head was that everyone had, in Heaven, a room full of VCRs (God worked with the latest technology of 1993/1994). The VCRs had recordings of your WHOLE life! Every single beautiful, sad, wonderful, and mundane moment.
And … the time you spent in the bathroom.
It was a neat little crisis of faith as a fourth grader to question if God was a perv. Ahh childhood, so innocent … and derailed into a wilderness of weird, from which I have never left.
I think the internet has made the prevalence of the bathroom self-portrait fairly common knowledge. It’s you, alone, taking a picture using the bathroom mirror.
For guys the picture may include you being shirtless, flexing. There are a lot of varieties for the bathroom self-portraits.
These are easy pictures to make fun of. Girls I know who are on dating sites often eliminate guys if they include a single one of these check-out-these-abs pictures. I think these pictures must be doing something for some people though, because they’re still happening.
What if the girls who respond to these guys know what the guy is REALLY trying to prove.
It’s not, “hey baby, check out these abs.” Don’t be silly! These shirtless hunks aren’t some brainless gym-rats, they’re the whole package. The picture is really saying, “hey baby, check out this clean mirror. And did you notice the sink? Impeccable. Not a single stray beard-hair or toothpaste stain. Yeah, I guess you could say I take care of my body, but more importantly, I take care of my house. Maybe … one day … our house? Think it over.”
Seen above is a picture of myself being one of these guys (but with a shirt on, I don’t like sit-ups). Because I am sporting a shirt, which makes me less of a tool, I decided to wear sunglasses and pretend to be aloof for my own self-portrait. I think that makes it equivalent to a shirtless photo.
Check out my clean bathroom counter and sink!
I went to a big meeting and asked a question which was not a question but really more of a complaint about the current setup for the project the meeting was about. Later that day I was walking to the bathroom, and from the other end of the hallway my boss’s boss was also walking there. He said, “you troublemaker!” I laughed and went in the bathroom. Then he came in. We ended up sitting in stalls next to each other … I wanted to either undo my being in the bathroom or shout, “HERE COMES TROUBLE!”
I was hanging out with a friend, along with her girlfriend and another friend of ours. My friend said something about liking chick-chick flicks. Then she asked if I knew what that meant. I assumed it meant a really girly chick flick, but then something about how she asked made me think – wait, “she’s talking about girl-on-girl porn??” Then, after I mentioned porn, she became embarrassed for me and explained that chick-chick flicks are a romance movie where the two characters who fall in love (not lust) are girls. Whoops.
I went out on the town with some friends and was introduced to friends of my friend with this – “This is Brad, he’s a really crazy dancer.” The response from one guy was, “I can tell by his bone structure!” Later the three of us walked over to a group of girls to try and muster up the courage to talk to them (I talk a big game and say ‘let’s do it!’ then I chicken out). While we’re standing there a girl came up and asked if we had a lighter for her cigarette. We said no, then the friend-of-friend said, “this guy’s dance moves will light a fire though!” Then the two friends and the girl stared at me. I stared back – too much pressure! – and did nothing. (But that line of his still cracks me up.)
And I’ll end with a brag – I was very proud of this little joke of mine. Two friends of mine and I headed to lunch one day, and when we arrived we got out of the car. There was a construction site nearby and a man was banging something metallic on something else metallic. I said, “that is the worst steel drum band I have ever heard!” (Actually I said that’s the worst Jamaican band I’ve ever heard – but I’ve revised the joke now that I have time and can remember what I intended to say.)