I’m feeling slightly less than perky this morning, and I think it has to do with the fact that God is smiting me for eating something more interesting than ricecakes for once in my life. So here I sit, contemplating removing my stomach with this dull butter knife. Ack…

1. Poodlums - How much more hilarious can you get? I don’t even know what the HELL this animal is…is it a sheep? A poodle? It looks like something we could have come up with around Halloween time as kids using a ball of yarn, the dog and some pillows. Whatever it is, it has to be the funniest thing I’ve seen all week, thus making into this edition of FTILFF.
2. MTV’s redesign. Again. - MTV redesigned a few months back, and I was significantly underwhelmed. While I think the company has become a joke in terms of being the cultural leader it once was, I look to the site now to see what technologies they’re employing for the younger generational audience. Originially they launched with auto-playing videos, a clunky interface and lots of glitz. Sound like this “step backwards” is really a step in the right direction. Hooray for humility and hindsight!
3. Ant colony ‘sculptures’ - Allow me to dork-out for one second. These researchers poured wax into ant colonies to extract what shapes they form underground. That’s wicked awesome. But what I want to know is 1) were the ants still there? and 2) how did you get those big ol’ things out of the ground without breaking them? My clumsy ass would have botched it completely.
4. Tricking your appliances into working - We have a love/hate relationship with our HVAC system. Having already had our airconditioner break last summer and the heater break this past winter, it should come as no surprise to us that the AC would go kaput again. But I found a random sequence of button pushing that seems to unfailingly kick it on every time. Suck it HVAC repair man!
5. A drunk man rides his horse into a bank… - …and then passes out. I’m not kidding. That picture is worth a mint. Because really? If you’re going to humiliate yourself internationally, why not do it with flare? (and a farm animal)

Hope everyone has a good day. I’m going to look up Montezuma’s Revenge on Wikipedia to see if that’s what I have. Or maybe it’s shingles. Then I’ll check my work email like a loser. Bah.

Boy have we got Jonas trained. No, we haven’t taught him how to generate a third revenue stream by pretending to be a horse. Nor, for that matter, how to gain finer motor control with his tail, thus converting it into a more prehensile version in order to do things such as dust the living room. No, instead we’ve reached another kind of milestone in our his development: He now punishes himself for misbehavior. And we can do little to stifle our maniacal laughter.

The arc of his behavior since we got him has gone something like this:

1. June 2006 - August 2006: Bites everything. Chews everything he gets scolded for biting (human limbs not excluded). Thinks jumping is the best thing ever. Runs from captors, refuses punishment, frustratingly small enough to evade 100% capture rate.
2. September 2006 - March 2006: The Era of Woof - Dominated primarily by discovery of vocal chords and the power they hold. Nothing is safe from reproach, including air, stationary objects and imaginary things. Still jumping, albeit only on The Wife™ each morning. Still chewing, but tenderly and on the sly. Remote controls are new favorite toys and daily chase sequences delight all involved except the humans. Now too big to hide under furniture, thank God.
3. March 2006 - present: Woofing lessened, now reserved for complaints and bouts of boredom. Biting of humans almost non-existent. Chasing eliminated from repertoire. Self-punishment achieved.

Somehow, someway we figured out how to get him to drop whatever it is that he’s stolen (kitchen towels, usually) and by simply pointing to his cage, he does the walk of shame, with head hung low, into his crate. We no longer scream like maniacs, threaten to throw him off the overpass or even touch a hair on his head. All it takes is, “Jonas…leave it. *point* In your cage, please.” BAM. Who knew that controlling the behavior of another living creature would bring such a surge of power! Control! TOTAL DOMINANCE! Being a parent must be such a rush.

Sure, we still have plenty of things to work on, things such as:

• Lesson 48: Dew claws were meant to rip open carcasses. Not Dad’s leg. Use with caution or they get removed with pliers.
• Lesson 108: Just because your head is at dinner table height does not mean that it’s a truck stop for parking your massive dome-piece on during a meal. You’re not that much of a member of the family, as you wear no pants.
• Lesson 283: Contrary to popular belief, we do not want to play ball every 30 minutes. Throwing your bowl across the house or ramming your face into the back door does little to convince us otherwise.

All in all, though, we’ve made considerable progress. And seeing as the list of lessons that he needs to master only goes to 500, we should be wrapping things up just around the time he looses control over his bowels due to old age…which means we get to start all over again. How awesome is that?

Last Thursday was supposed to be a great day. The Wife™ and I were headed to Gatlinburg, Tennessee for a few days with her sister and their family for some much needed rest and relaxation video game playing. I really needed a break, and the hardest part was just making it to Thursday afternoon.

With the Virginia tragedy still looming overhead, most of last week was a bit more frenzied than usual. Working in higher education in a PR department gives you an entirely new perspective on situations like these. So, by Thursday, I was ready to be out of the office. Tensions were strained as bodies were weary from answering media questions and attending numerous emergency preparation meetings. And then there was the bomb scare.

Like almost every other school it seems, ours was graced with numerous hoaxes at the end of last week, each handled with an entirely appropriate amount of seriousness. Needless to say, by 1:30 I was glad to be headed home, free of the frantic phone calls and overly dramatic coworkers squealing about possible arsenic-laced cookies and self-evacuations. So I raced home, grabbed Jonas and took him north to drop him off at The Farm™ for boarding. Everything was going according to plan, I was on time despite the rushed schedule. I was finally breathing a sigh of relief, thinking about the next few days of playing video games, enjoying a few beers dog-free, and being surrounded by some great scenery. I was ready to begin my vacation.

About a mile from the exit, southbound on I-71, my car started fishtailing violently, then rocking back and forth until finally producing a magnificent bloom of smoke and almost flipping over. I managed to get it under control and pull of onto a narrow shoulder to have my suspicions confirmed: blown tire.

Shaken but fine, I began to rush about, dodging semi-trailers and gusts of wind to get my truck up on a jack. Knowing full well that this had thrown, quite literally, a wrench into our departure time, I freaked. I could just picture cranky babies and grumpy family members, scornfully tapping their toes in anticipation of leaving. I was pissed at myself for blowing this tire (because that makes so much sense), and I was determined to not make everyone else late.

Well, as luck would have it, the jack was too short for the slope of the shoulder and I was too stupid to figure out where the release valve for the spare tire-pulley was hidden. As I waited for a serviceman to arrive, I cursed my stupidity repeatedly. Stupid for not getting around to buying those tires when I knew I was overdue. Stupid for cutting things so closely, time-wise. Stupid for not being able to understand inadequate Japanese owner manuals and poorly drawn diagrams of spare tires. Stupid for just being stupid about everything. Mentally, I had just sabotaged the entire vacation that I had worked so hard to get to. My heart was racing, and it wasn’t because of the tractor trailers whizzing by my head, less than 12 inches away, at 80mph.

What’s sad is that I knew I should be simply glad that I was alive. What had just happened was serious enough that logistically I could have ended up very dead, as losing control of your car at 75mph isn’t really a good thing. Instead, I was worried about making people late. And as I drove off with my spare tire mounted, less than 30 minutes after blowing the original tire, I still wasn’t thankful. We were hardly late, the weekend was wonderful, I feel refreshed, and only now is it finally sinking in that I could very easily be in the hospital instead. Somehow I need to find a way to suck less at this “being thankful” thing. Goodness knows there are people dealing with real tragedies this morning besides making five other people thirty minutes late. I need to figure this out. And I need four new tires.

I have no witty idiotic intro for FTILFF this week. I’m kind of out of my head with this whole VTech incident. School shootings always did really mess with my core. Anyway, if you’re reading this, it means our Robot Overlords did their job and posted this while I’m clearing my head in Tennessee for the next few days.

1. “Stop Hate, Love Something” t-shirt - It’s been a minute since I found a shirt I liked. Actually that’s a lie, I just felt like I was abusing it as a FTILFF topic. I think this one is just awesome enough that I bought it. And now The Wife™ knows.
2. “Hide & Seek” by Imogen Heap - OK, so I’m a total poser and heard this on SNL last weekend (the artsy send-up sketch of The OC death scene). But I’m obsessed, and I don’t know why. You can bet this will make it on to a future mix tape at some point.
3. Secret bookcase doors - What self-respecting nerd and/or fan of ’80s television has never wanted one of these? Okay, okay, I’m sure they’ll be wicked expensive and yes, if I were better with The Tools I could make on myself. But if I were to ever win the lottery that I’ve never played, this would be high on the list of “Things To Get.” Well, this and a monkey butler.
4. The Magic of Disney World (HDR photo) - I admittedly loathe Disney for being evil. The Wife™ says this is stupid. Nonetheless, this is an amazing HDR photo that does a great job of capturing the wonder of Disney World as seen by a child (at least from my own memories).
5. NIN’s new CD trick - I’m not a NIN fan, never really have been. I do find Trent Reznor’s undying devotion to the artistic (read: not-commercially driven) process admirable. First, this CD’s tracks were leaked around the world via USB key drives left in public places. Now this: the CD reacts thermally when you play it in the CD player. Goes in black, comes out white with binary code that translates to a website address. Beautiful attention to packaging and delivery.

Be good to one another this weekend, gang. There is some really screwed up things in that world out there.

This nation and the world surely do not need yet another meathead flapping his jaw or wagging his pen about the tragic events that happened at Virginia Tech on Monday. I’m entirely ashamed that I’m adding to this possible overexposure, but the only comfort that I have is that my own take on it is not one of derision or criticism. In fact I cannot commend the administration of VT enough.

My entire working career post-baccalaureate has been in the field of higher education, and while a meager five years an expert does not one make, I like to think that I have a fair grasp on University life. Working in higher-ed admin is much like what I assume working in the government is like: life is slow, the perks are good and generally it takes far too much to get a normal amount of work accomplished because of the lack of resources, be they monetary or financial. I’ve worked at both a small liberal arts university as well as a large state institution, and knowing that VT has 25,000+ students to account for (with 15,000 residents) blows my mind.

From out of the woodworks of any tragedy come the trolls, the armchair critics and the self-proclaimed pundits. Those who aren’t mourning are pointing fingers or boasting about how they would have handled things more competently had they only been put in charge. The talking heads spin it towards political agendas. Whatever the crisis, regardless of the tragedy, people bypass the true crime that is loss of life and instead move towards the irresistible lure of blame.

I suppose in such an unexpected, inconceivable event (Columbine, 9/11, etc in recent collective memory), people extend their anger and their aching for answers and move to blame as a method of coping. With the Villain unable to be presented to a high court, we look for institutions of power that could have failed us…the police, the medics, the government, the school. Something to pin our grief and our pain on, something real, something alive and accountable.

But what dismays me to no end about this situation is how much backlash the VT administration is receiving. Claims of a lazy response time (1h 45m?) and refusal to close campus after the 7:15 am homicide incident have clogged internet, mere hours after it happened. I know nothing except that from what VT has published on their own site.

Their time line reveals that the administration did respond. They locked down a dorm, surrounded it with security, notified residents and interviewed witnesses. They followed a strong lead and went off-campus to detain a suspect. They had no reason to believe the shooter was still on premises [1]. Hell, 8:30 am is when administration are expected to arrive at work, yet the council was already meeting due to the emergency. Even if the president, provost and other key members were called by 7:30 am, most likely would still be preparing for work or on their commute. And still the desk thumping and name calling continues.

From my limited and humble vantage point, the University’s communication system worked. Students have been interviewed on nationally syndicated news networks claiming that they did not go to class because of what was posted on VT’s homepage. Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and dodgeball were all used to put information out there, which does not indicate a lack of initiate on VT’s part but rather shows that students use means that they are most comfortable with. This all happened within minutes. Since the tragedy, the VT administration has been a source for news media, not simply a sheepish and bewildered respondent. They confidently post information that frankly, I’m not sure either of my own universities would have done. Unlike theirs, I wonder if our servers would have buckled under the immense traffic. Until this happened, we had no emergency lo-fi version of the homepage (image-free to reduce server load). We’re lucky we get to finish projects that have been in planning for over a year, let alone respond both professionally and expediently to something that happened less than two hours ago.

Even now, with the eyes of the world upon them, they have a custom-skinned memorial homepage (again, decidedly lightweight for bandwidth) that is respectful and informative. And it was posted before the second day even came to a close. A four-person web shop, likely working long hours.

So while it might seem odd to commend the University for their web site and their communication, I feel like it should be done. I think the administration responded as swiftly and decidedly as any other administration could have (and likely much better, in fact). And further still, their marketing/web office continues to be a source of information to all watching and seeking. Other universities can only hope to rise so confidently to such an occasion.

Of course, as trite as it sounds, my thoughts and prayers are with all touched by the tragedy, as well as all the rest who seem to want to take this event and twist it for their own personal gain, be that intellectual, political, monetary or otherwise. Let the families and friends heal, and we’ll go about our days thankful that it wasn’t us who was asked to make such swift, monumental decisions.

Friday night, after our weekly dinner with a handful of friends, The Wife™ and I stopped by the hospital to pay a visit to a friend who had just given birth to her first child and to drop off a small gift. After all, what doesn’t say “congratulations on the next phase of your life!” like a plush camel with over-sized hooves? What I wasn’t expecting was an unbelievably surreal experience bathed in fluorescent lights and floral nursing scrubs.

We stayed for a bit, talking to the parents, probing them for information on this totally foreign experience and cooing over the newborn who’s name at that point was Baby. I saw nothing wrong with this, but apparently they intended to choose another. I don’t see why, really. It seems rather explanatory and to-the-point. Anyway, after The Wife™ accidentally set off the Baby Thief Alarm, we eventually left to go home to our own baby, the one with four massive, village-wrecking paws. (Aside: were the rest of you aware that they really do have theft devices on babies?! Is this just a ‘Tucky thing? Because while I think it’s a great idea, having lo-jack on your child is a rather 1984ish notion…)

“How do you prepare yourself mentally for such a personal paradigm shift?”

On the drive home our conversation understandably turned to the concept of having children and to how seemingly foreign it still seems to us. I think I was more freaked out than these parents were. What the hell do you do when you leave the hospital and go home that first day? Do you just hang out, staring at each other? How do you know how many CCs to feed the kid? How do you know how much sleep is “too much sleep?” And did you know that it is apparently unacceptable behavior to put a kid in the dryer to muffle it’s crying? Even if you don’t turn it on? There’s all sorts of these no-nos that, unless they publish a manual, I’m sure to violate based on my own code of Seemed Good At The Time-isms and I Don’t See Why Nots.

While I have friends that are already parents, I have yet had the pleasure of witnessing them in the act of parenting. So for my purposes, they are all still the irresponsible teenagers I remember them to be and not the “take everything including the kitchen sink in the quilted diaperbag”-hauling bundle of nerves that they more likely are. How do you prepare yourself mentally for such a personal paradigm shift? I suppose you do have those nine months while the kid is baking in the oven to get your stuff together, but still. Who wakes up one day and says, “Yup, I’m ready to irrevocably alter the course of my life today by having a child!”? Do people do that? Otherwise how do they know that they’re ready to be parents, ready to make decisions such as “bourbon or gin: things to quiet my kid down.” I’m just not prepared to make that call. (But for the record, I believe bourbon would be the appropriate choice here.)

I don’t know. I guess when it happens it will just happen. Maybe I’m just taking the Russian roulette approach to kids, which in the long run will prove unfortunately poor in hindsight. But at least as of this morning, I had no epiphanies, no angels/fairies/gnomes telling me it was Minivan Time™. So I guess I’ll leave the kids to other people right now and hope that by the time it is Minivan Time™ I’ll know it. And that I’ll have finished installing the padding on the inside of the dryer. You know, just in case.

When I was in high school, one of the service trips that I was lucky enough to participate in was a week in the Appalachian region of Tennessee. A gaggle of grumpy, sleepy teenage boys got up every morning at what seemed like the pre-asscrack of dawn to get ready for a day’s worth of hard labor. What gave us all the strength to forge onward, to make it through those roughest first few hours? Donald Duck Orange Juice.

1. This Schaefer Keg - Really, after evaluating this, my only question is, “Could I be fired for wearing this to work?”
2. Automatic customizable typing - OH SWEET MOTHER…how did I live without this? On my Mac I’ve been using TextExpander and at home I started with Texter. Seeing as how most of my days are spent reusing snippets of code or writing the same customer-servicey emails, all I do now is type a few shortcut letters and hit Tab and BAM! Full blocks of pre-determined text! A little scripting will also get the macros to position the cursor in a place after dropping in the text, or automatically paste in whatever is in the clipboard (like a URL). I can’t sit still I’m so excited about this.
3. Parking meter gift cards - Who the hell thought of this? I got one for Christmas and it’s the handiest damned thing ever. I never have change on me when I have to go to the other campus for meetings, and thus street parking becomes a game of “will I get caught by the meter maid?” Now I just keep it in my wallet and never have to worry. If this thing works on parking garages too, I’ll pass out.
4. Music Video Principles Applied To The Real World - Sad, but true. It takes a second to figure out the dynamic and who/what is being criticized, but once you get it it’s priceless. And sad.
5. This Old House - Is there a dude out there who can’t watch this show and learn something? I say “dude” because that’s who usually gets the shaft pleasure of doing home repairs. I catch episodes of this all the time while running or when The Wife™ relinquishes the remote, and every time I’m entranced (and schooled). Even the ones from 1985 still teach me crap I never knew, and give me reason to giggle at Norm Abrams flannel. I wish these guys could follow me around all the time.

To a 16 year old boy, having your breakfast drink named after a cartoon duck who refused to wear pants was probably the funniest thing I’d ever heard because it was just so…generic and illogical. Hell, to an adult me it’s still absolutely hilarious. Therefore, I petition that more mundane things in life be associated with random pop culture references. For example, I’d like to think that this morning I had some Bernstein Bears oatmeal and a hot cup of My Little Pony coffee. Wait, can we make that something cooler? Like Decepticon coffee? That sounds more badass…

When your alarm clicks on in the morning, do you listen to the radio? Do you hear music? Or news? I used to. I used to get my local news via the radio from 5:45-6:00 a.m., starting each day with a pleasant rush of information that is useful to me as a citizen. However, the pitchfork-wielding, hay chewing yahoos that give The ‘Tucky a bad name have gone and hillbillied that up too.

Now, every morning, I get out of bed refreshed by knowing the exact currency that can be exchanged for every type of livestock or farm animal in existence. It’s like MSNBC, but for pigs, sheep and cows.

If they throw goats into the mix I’m putting a For Sale sign in my front yard with a quickness.

Niece: “Where did you go?”

Me: “Oh I was just outside talking to my parents on the phone,” [shows cell phone], “wishing them a ‘Happy Easter.’”

Niece: “Parents? What kind of parents?”

Me: [shrugs] “I dunno, normal kind, just shorter I guess. Why?”

Niece: [dead serious] “I didn’t think you had parents. You have parents?”

Me: [staring blankly] “Yes. At least that’s what the government thinks.”

Either she’s merely acting the befitting role of a four-year-old, or she knows something about me. I’ve got my eye on that one.

I think Jonas and I are finally hitting our stride. We both apparently enjoy routine, and each morning now we practice the same set of events: Food for him, coffee for me, potty for him, food and email for me. When I get ready to leave, he follows me over to The Wife to kiss her goodbye and then prances stomps over to the garage door to watch me leave. And then he sits as we shake hands to bid farewell. It’s actually kinda cute. Anyway, here are the five things I enjoyed this week:

1. “Well, this just really sucks…” T-shirt - I’m totally diggin’ this Scrabble-themed shirt. At my last job we used to having running Scrabble games that lasted days on end. It helped break the monotony of a day and actually helped a bit with creativity. I miss that. This shirt rules!
2. Half Of Us - Okay, kinda weird that I’m linking to a PSA-style site about depression and whatnot as a FTILFF item. But I think it’s well done and could see it being an effective resource for kids. I was even startled the the candor of some of the celebrity confessions like Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy. Simple concept, nice execution.
3. BWE-DITORIAL: American Idol, Sanjaya Malakar, And The Postmodern Condition - A strange vehicle for this to come in the form of, but this editorial from VH1’s Best Week Ever is rather insightful. I think it pegs the exact reason(s) that I loathe this show and why I secretly hope that dude with his Pony Hawk wins. On talent and personality, it’s clearly Melinda D. But I want this show out of the American conscience so that we can go back to a life where celebrities aren’t churned out of a hit-machine, but instead rely on hard work and real talent.
4. The smell of fermenting wort - The Wife™ hates it when I brew beer. She complains about the smell of cooked malted barley and hops for days. But each morning and evening when I peek in on the six-gallon carboy bubbling away in our spare bathroom, I am greeted by the sweetest most heavenly wave of pale ale and Cascade hops. I hope she realizes that I’m doing a wheat beer tomorrow.
5. “The Emperor’s New Woes” - The title is a bit melodramatic, but the article is intriguing. I recently finished a book on this topic and have been increasingly interested in the topic of the changing roles of men in modern households/relationships/workplaces. Worth a read, even if you’re not married.

Everyone have a good weekend. A special happy birthday to Andrew and to my sister in Baltimore.

As I mentioned last week, there has been a distinct lack of Jonas-related posts here over the past few months. And contrary to popular belief this is not because I buried him under the house, sold him into puppy slavery or other such conceivable terrible acts*. No, instead we’ve come to a sort of agreement as of late: I won’t throw him off the overpass if he stops making my life suck. We even shook on it. I’m serious.

My parents came for a visit the first weekend in March, which also happened to be Barron von Barkenstein’s first birthday. For weeks leading up to this, I prepared my mother for the hell that she was inviting unto herself by willingly choosing to spend the weekend in our house. No amount of horror stories of jumping and vocal acrobatics could dissuade her, and instead this served to only fuel her persuasions that He is actually better each time they visit. My mother could hack it in the stand-up biz, as you can see.

What both shocked and humbled me is that when they arrived, Jonas changed demeanor. Sure, He still thinks my father is one giant puppy ready to play at all times. But by in large, he calmed rather considerably. And his birthday celebration came and went with no major catastrophes, no candles-turned-weapons-of-arson or ceremonial trashing of the house. When my parents left on that Sunday he even sat. As in “all four paws on the ground for more than five seconds.” And for those that may not think this was reason alone to run through the streets in ecstasy, shouting…I’ll just say that this brought the grand total of such events to TWO. Not counting the use of drugs to achieve the same effect.

So for the past month, we’ve all lived in relative harmony. The weather warmed up to a point where he enjoys being outside by himself for longer periods. The sun and heat wears him out to the point that he just lays panting for hours afterwards. This makes me weep silently in the corner.

This past weekend in particular was truly magical. The Wife™ had a wedding shower and also had to work, which meant that I was stuck home alone with the Dog Formerly Known As Satan. Instead of one of us ending up in emergency care (as would be expected), we enjoyed each other’s company. We played fetch until he could no longer stand. He even took a nap, without aid of sedation, for over an hour, while I sat on the couch. If I weren’t already a man of faith this certainly would have made me convert. Hell I’d take on a second religion because it was just that damned moving.

So here we are almost a year into living together and I can finally say that I enjoy having Jonas around. He still controls our lives, but there are times now when I laugh openly at him when he smacks his head on the kitchen table when getting up, or when he spends 10 minutes trying to bite his shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt to eat his own collar. And I confess to being willing to do almost anything for him if he just cocks his head for it, as I find it the most endearing and hilarious thing my eyes have ever witnessed.

So to The Wife™: You can tell your co-workers that I’ve finally written something nice about Jonas, something that wasn’t his eulogy or the text of a “for sale” ad in the newspaper.

* my legal team has informed me that this is the correct thing to say. Hi legal team!

Dear Guy In My Building Who’s Suspiciously Always In The Bathroom,

I don’t mean to be rude, and I know I’m approaching a sensitive topic here, but come on man. Enough is enough. I’ve gotta call you out on this behavior. It’s just plain weird that I never see you outside of the men’s room.

The first few months that I was here in this building, I thought it was a coincidence that every time I used the bathroom you were either already set up in there or had arrived once I was using it. Hell, I have to take a leak so many times during the day, I didn’t even take heed for awhile. But it’s hard to ignore your grunting, your unmistakable boat shoes underneath the stall or your obnoxiously pink travel mug that you insist on parading in with you as a sort of battle flag. You’ve been outted man. I know you’re not working in there, I think you’re just chillin’ on the pot.

For months I had no clue what you looked like beyond your shoes and coffee mug. I knew you were on a very regimented 9:00/11:10/1:30/3:15 bowel-movement routine, as regular as a train schedule. Are you ok? Do you have IBS or something? Do you just eat too much Mexican food? Frankly I’m a bit concerned that you need to go #2 that many times each day. Could you be a dude who simply likes to sit when they pee? Sure, but then what’s with the grunting? You’re an unabashed office pooper who could care less if their bathroom indiscretions are overwhelming enough to embarrass everyone else in the room. And on behalf of everyone else: STOP IT.

Once we ran into each other and I saw you with your pink coffee mug, I can no longer look you in the eye. Your confident swagger tells me your a Proud Pooper. Good for you. You are likely the same kind of gentleman that has no issue with farting at a urinal (if you ever even use one), scratching their junk in public, or zipping up outside the stall. Hell, I bet you were that kid in grade school that dropped trou’ fully each time, standing butt-ass naked in front of the urinals all proud that you could potty by yourself. For some reason you feel that the bathroom is your turf. And I’m here to request that you tone it down a bit.

As I said, I know I’m in there quite a lot myself. I drink far too much water and often need to vacate up to three times per hour. But in fairness, I try to be expedient, silent and sanitary. Get in, get done, get clean and get out. But how the hell are you in there every damned time? Do you live in there? Are you homeless? Has our building run out of space and you’ve set up your office in one of the two stalls? If so, I apologize for using it on occasion. You weren’t there, so you must have been out refilling your coffee mug. I didn’t know I was using your office, I promise. If you need me to sign a petition to get you a legit space to work, I’ll gladly take part. Your permanency in this public space in inexcusable.

I don’t want to be a jerk, Bathroom Guy. I’m simply a little creeped out by you and your icy, confident stare. I swear if I go in there today and you’ve already set up shop in stall #2 (as you seem to have a preference), I’m calling you out. Or I’ll pull the fire alarm so you have to finish up in a hurry. Just make sure to wash your hands for once, okay?

Sincerely,
Brian Faust