Entertainment Value

Being the Sheriff of Shite of Random Hall can be an arduous task at times. Take, for instance, the missive I was compelled to write last evening, and have posted here for your reading pleasure:

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Good evening ladies and gentleman, and welcome to the Museum of Facility
Misuse

Allow me to point you to Exhibit A: Urine sprayed in a parabolic arc
across a toilet seat. This exhibit was first discovered in the 340
bathroom on BMF floor, and is an excellent example of Kamikaze Urine
Trajectory, a crude method of excretion practiced by ancient
pre-historic upright urinators and the women who attempted to emulate
them. This method of "relief" became extinct during the advent of the
hinged toilet seat, and has since become a social faux pas. In some
countries, it has gone so far as to have become an offense punishable by
dis"member"ment with a spork. This particular specimen was discovered
around 5 pm on April 19, 2004 by one feceologist named Kimberly Ang, and
was cleaned by the discoverer shortly upon discovery.

Exhibit B: An Unflushed Toilet. Also discovered at the same site of
Exhibit A, this example of counter-patriotism is indicative of a truly
uncultured boor. It was customary in the middle ages to empty one's
chamberpot out one's window after each night of bowel olympics. The
frequency of this procedure was increased twofold during the Age of the
Outhouse, and further so by the Dawn of the Septic Tank. Though we no
longer defenestrate the products of our midnight endeavors, modern
practices dictate the social standard of one flush per loaf, or in the
event of a lack of loaf, one flush after each uric payload. Which leads
us to a quick discussion of the courtesy flush: common courtesy states
that excrement should not be allowed to ferment in the bowl while you
are reading the magazine. This is a heady stout no one wants. As such,
the presence of said heady brew is often considered an offense
punishable by revoking of toilet paper privileges and substitution with
a single pine cone.

The conclusion to our short visit into the world of fecological
anthropology is as follows:
For the love of god, who pees on the the seat? Lift the seat, jackass.
And in the event that the culprit of such a dispeccable act was a woman,
"a funnel and a hose go a long way," especially if one insists on the
right to urinate while standing. I can't believe I had to wipe up this
mess. Lastly, flush flush FLUSH! Lest you be found out and find a corny
surprise under your pillow.

Sincerely,
The Sheriff of Shite,
Kimberly A. Ang, Esq.
"I put the Ang back in Angry!"


P.S. And to all you bathroom flamer wannabes out there, *this* is how
it's done. Come back and try again when you've grown up and learned some
class.

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