Special Scatological Edition

I saw where Barack Hussein Obama has decided to use something called the Nuclear Option in regards to his socialized medicine deal, a deal that people still don't want, even after a year of listening to him shove it down their throats. I think I'm familiar with this so called Nuclear Option. I think it has to do with locking members of the Senate into some kind of airtight room, sending his wife in there after she eats like 10 bucks worth of Taco Bell, having her rip one giant fart, and then wait until the senators give in. It should take about 30 seconds. I just wonder why old Barry didn't try this Nuclear Option earlier. It seems so basic - farts. Farts will conquer all. Farts are the solution to every problem facing Barry. Farts are like life itself - terrifying. Farts are, as Sting mentioned about 30 years ago or so, meaningless and all that's real...

I was talking to a bartender last night at this wing joint on Battleground, and he mentioned that he finds Glenn Beck to be the most honest news commentator out there today. And I was really hoping this bartender was pulling my leg. But he wasn't. So I said, "Well, I've never really bothered to listen to the guy closely, but he's on lots of TV's in bars during the 5 o'clock hour. And you are not the 1st person I know who has mentioned an affinity for Glenn Beck. In fact, several people I really like think Glenn Beck is some kind of oracle. The thing I wonder about him is, why does he look so constipated all the time?" The bartender at the wing joint said, "I hadn't noticed that so much." I said, "Well next time you watch him, see how he tends to squirm around like he's trying to hold in some kind of massive diarrhea stream just about to bubble out into his shorts." The bartender said, "I'll be sure to check that out." I replied, "Yeah, do. I worry about old Glenn Beck. He seems about to shit his pants on national TV every couple minutes. God bless him, the poor bastard."

I walked into the Men's room about 15 minutes ago (I'm at Generic Bread again, not the one by the Costco, or the one by the Steak & Bake, but the one on N Garden near Target). And as I opened the door, it was clear a dad was in the stall with his daughter, aiding her in some kind of potty training practice. The reason I know this is because he said this, just as I set foot in the can: "Keep pushing honey, your doo doo will be out soon." I ran out of there quick - real quick.

I walked into the Men's room on the 3rd Floor of the Old Measuring Stick in Durham one time about 5 or 6 or 7 years ago. And there was a kid in there, a kid who worked part time around the break room, a quiet kid who lived in a group home, a kid who spent most of his time staring at the floor in the dining area. Well, for those of you who have never been in the Men's room I'm talking about, there are 3 stalls located beyond 3 urinals. I started to head for the 1st urinal, thinking no one else was in the can, when I heard a voice say, "Poopie...poopie...poopie, poopie...poopie." And then I did something I should never have done in a million years. I was worried whoever was saying this might be having some kind of medical emergency or something. So I walked down toward the voice and then came up to the 1st stall. In horror, I notice the door open, the group home kid sitting there on the pot, and muttering softly to no one and everyone, "I make poopie. Poopie...poopie." I came very close to running down the 3 flights of stairs, sprinting to my car, driving away, and never coming back. I really did.

A few years before that, I was working in the building across the street from the 3 story building in Durham where the group home kid muttered "Poopie...poopie." This had to be 1999 or 2000. Anyway, I walked into the Men's room and this guy I've seen around work is standing at one of the urinals. This guy was around 50 and had an awful patch of facial hair masquerading as a beard. Anyway, he's standing there swivelling his hips and humming. He appeared to be thrusting his member toward the urinal wall. It was a bit disconcerting, to say the least. I turned around and got out of there. I saw the guy occasionally in the hallways after that. I never spoke to him though. Not a chance in hell.

I was in the Men's room one time at work over in Durham (back on the 3rd floor where the group home kid muttered, "poopie...poopie") and this crazy old man named C Barry Lee says to me, as we were standing next to each other at adjacent urinals, "You piss like a young man." I had no idea how to respond to that.

I was in the Men's room down on the 2nd floor of that same building one time and this guy, who was working for me, comes in. This guy was always late and out of his seat during work time. And he felt the need to take the opportunity of seeing me in the Men's room to explain why he had issues with sitting there and doing his job (although I never ask anyone any personal question at work, I NEVER want to know what's going on, you're just asking for trouble if you do). So he says, "I've got a lot of gastro-intestinal problems. I spend lots of time in here." I said, "Thanks for the heads up. I desperately needed to hear that."

I've got a million more bizarre bathroom stories. Believe me. One last one for today, and I find this terribly amusing. This happened about 8 or 9 years ago. I was working here in Greensboro and someone had been threatening to bring in some homemade chili for me and a few other folks to try. Finally, one day this lady does it - she brings in the homemade chili. Now, those of you who know me pretty well, you know I don't eat food brought into work by freaks. And this lady was a freak. So, I don't want to hurt her feelings when she brings over a full cup of the stuff to me. I politely take the cup of chili and say, "Thanks." I didn't touch a bite of it. Rich Lepors, who I used to eat lunch with for way too many years, was lucky enough to get some too (Rich was very popular with freaks) and he actually took a bite or 2 and said it was awful (although he could have said it was delicious and I still wouldn't have touched the crap). So, it's getting to be the end of the lunch break and I don't want the lady who brought the chili to see my full cup uneaten in the garbage somewhere and get all offended. So, what I decided to do is take the Styrofoam cup of chili she'd given me into one of the Men's rooms (one that only had a toilet - a single) and place the cup of chili on the back of the toilet. I found this terribly amusing, because the chili did slightly resemble awful diarrhea. And sure enough, within 1o minutes of lunch ending, some guy goes in there, sees the present I left, and freaks out. I laughed and laughed. In fact, I'm laughing now, just thinking about it.

Back to less scatological matters next time...