Strange Bathroom Antics of Pre-Wash Piss Jew-Fro

There’s this guy on my floor that I occasionally see in the men’s room. Normally, such encounters are negligible, and certainly not worth posting about, but this guy, I find quite puzzling.  Obviously by the way he dresses and presents himself, and the fact that he doesn’t look that old, I have to assume he’s a college student, doing whatever college students are often doing in this building.  He also has a big, exaggerated Jew-fro, and wears goofy lily white Forrest Gump-like sneakers, and the combination of such an appearance kind of sticks.  He kind of looks like a thinner, younger version of the Jewish professor member of Team USA in Beerfest.

So in spite of such an identifiable appearance, the last thing a guy like him needs is idiocentric behavior that makes him arouse the suspicion of others, or maybe it’s just me, or maybe I just feel like I need to have something to write about in order to pass the time.  But as mentioned, I’ve seen him in the men’s room a few times, as it’s one of the few common places that one might randomly encounter others.

I’ll cut to the chase – this guy washes his hands first, and then proceeds to do his business.  Cue me tilting my head ever-so slightly, like a dog when it hears something piercing and unusual.  That’s fine and all, if he wants to have his hands nice and pristine before handling his junk, but on more than one instance, I’ve noticed that he doesn’t wash his hands afterward.  He may have the cleanest private parts on the face of the planet, but for the sake of social acceptance, at least pretend to wash your fucking hands after defecating, for god’s sake.

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Seen in Atlanta: Pull my finger

There’s something to be said about the culture of tagging in the world, but sometimes it’s funny to just see something kind of out of left field to get the mind wondering.  Here in Atlanta, the popular tags are a head in a ski-mask, Pac-Man ghosts smiling broadly, the word “DOSE,” and a bunch of indecipherable marks that pockmark bridges, billboards, walls, and other public or private property that are illegally being desecrated.  That being said, I can give some genuine appreciation to PULL MY FINGER, because there’s really no explanation needed.  Most everyone knows what the joke is, and it’s kind of refreshing to see something that requires no explanation being used as vandalism over the esoteric, kind of bullshit tags that are scattered around the rest of the city.  I mean, I like the Pac-Man ghosts as much as the next nerd does, but I have no fucking idea what the point of it is.

At least with pull my finger, there’s a modicum of sense being made, since it relates to fecal matter, and so many here in this fair city are full of shit, so there’s a connection there.

True pain

It is a widely known fact that when it comes to needing to hold it, that men are vastly superior to women.  I have a belief that men are always capable of assessing their need to urinate based on a scale of one through ten.  We tend to really only seek the need when it begins to encroach at five or so; unless we’re bored, antsy, and feeling the need to move about, pretty much anything underneath five can typically be ignored and held in.  Once past five, it would be a good idea to seek out the nearest commode.

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