Tonight I'm Going to Potty Like It's 1399

Scene #1
I've got a thing about 'dook' . It might be because my mother, frustrated that I kept sh*tting myself at the age of three or four, stuck me (coated in sh*t) in the bathtub and left me there. I don't remember, really. My aunt likes to tell me the story of how she came in and washed me off. The end result is that I get really skeeved out about all things fecal. I have a hypersensitive gag reflex that makes me coil in disgust whenever there are O.P.S.S.s in the toilet basin or if I have to wipe off the stuff I sprayed all over the rim after a night of Old Mil-yuckee and burritos.

I'm one of those guys that likes to mummify his arm with sh*t-tickets before I wipe my soiled ass crack, lest the toilet paper accidentally shift, exposing my index finger and getting a smear across it. Even with this failproof method of avoiding actual contact with excrementum, I still have to wash after a trip to the loo.

That's why I can't understand why the dude whose legs I saw under the toilet stall at the library managed to walk past me at the urinal and exit the facilities without a quick stop at the sink.

The first thought that crossed my grossed-out mind was "How the f*ck do I get out of here without touching any part of that door?"

And no. It mattered not that the gent was wearing wool gloves.

Fortunately there were paper towels on hand. Otherwise I'd have to wait patiently for somebody to enter so I could stick my foot in the door and make a sanitary getaway.

Scene #2
Person A: Did your mother teach you to wash your hands after you pee?
Person B: Of course.
Person A: Mine taught me not to piss on my fingers.

(unenthusiastic rim shot.)

Common 'guy' courtesy mandates that you never leave a hand hanging when a handshake is offered.
(Okay. You know where this is headed.)

Mrs. Prego and I were at the Town Ballroom this past weekend to take in the Supersuckers concert. (Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World. More on that later.) I went to the bathroom to void, when whom should I see, but a casual acquaintance. Now the proper etiquette to acknowledge a compàdre in the john is a jut of the chin, followed by a "What's up?" as you shake off the drip.

This guy breached urinal decorum by finishing his piss and immediately giving me a cordial "Hey, what's going on, man?" as he extends his hand out for a shake.

Again, this is not a close friend... Just a guy who traveled the same social circles as I for the past 20 years whom I still occasionally see. Immediately I start hearing those piercing violins from the shower scene in Psycho and my eyes quickly scan his digits for any sign of piss dribble.


The irony of the situation is that historically, extending one's hand either to wave "hello" or for a handshake was a symbol of goodwill that indicated "I am not going to kill you."

Here, then, we have this jester holding out his possibly infested hand for a greeting. I kept imagining all the things that could possibly have happened to his penis... hookers, circus midgets with herpes, gangrene or a mere U.T.I.

I equated the exchange to a banana with those unpleasant, pulpy brown spots that mom made me finish.

I thrust my hand out instintively and gave him a quick shake, making sure I unzipped and pissed with my left hand until I could manage to wash vigorously.

Next time I'm wearing wool gloves.


Sophie T. Mishap said...

Ewwwwww! Boys are so frackin disgusting! Funny how girls always think they can fix boys until they hear a bathroom story...

Kevin J. Hosey said...

Nope, you're right, Prego. You don't extend a hand to shake in a men's room even if Joe Strummer were to be resurrected in your presence or stall there.

Sadly, I've had to pinch a loaf at the downtown library, particularly in the main floor men's room just before you hit the history/sociology area. That's meaningful to me because my eight-year sentence works at that desk at the library and was at her post when I did my work.

Coaster Punchman said...

Well at least you'd get to wash your hands afterward.

Jacques Roux said...

Friggin' ingrate. It's faux pas like that which got that little twit Louis XIV strung up by his c*^-guzzling throat. But hey, look on the bright side, at least most people have the decency to use the shit-tickets... those wack-job, camel jockeys whose counrties we are trying colonize, stuck way out there in the desert, have to use their hand, sans protective gear of any kind. No wonder they're all so pissed off. I would be too if I had to eat and wipe my choclate starfish with the same hand (I'm a lefty).

Carrie said...

Can we say obsessive-compulsive?

And you have kids?

jfh said...

Yuckissimo. Don't remind me. I just finished a 1500+ mile trek from Texas to CA and had to use so many desert bathrooms. The bathroom floors are flooded, with God only knows what, since water is such a scarce commodity. Then, you quickly learn that Rest Stop and Picnic Area, in Texas are two very diff things. Picnic Areas have no water. Really, absolutely none. Who wants to eat a picnic lunch with yucky hands? P.S. I wouldn't have shaken his hand. I would have faked a nose dilemma and raced to the sink, saying, "Hey, guy! Hi!"

Anonymous said...

Wool gloves won't be enough...

*cue dramatic music* ;)


surcie said...

Eeeewww, eeewww, and eeeewww!

That's all I got.

utenzi said...

Frickin' A, Prego. That is one sick bastard. All guys know that other guys don't want to touch "dicky" fingers. That dude was seriously disturbed to be reaching out with his hand in the mens room. Nasty!

Michele sent me here to recoil in disgust!

Thumper said...

Uuugggggh....he wanted to shake hands in the mens' room? Was he dropped on his head as a baby? Repeatedly?

I'm always amazed at women who leave the restroom without washing their hands. They're the same ones who suat over the toilet and spray the freaking seat and don't clean it up...

Michele sent me :)

Anonymous said...

I dont care if he was my long lost brother who I hadnt seen in 10 years, Guys DO NOT shake hands in the bathroom. Especially after pissin or before wshing. Nasty.

Sorta reminiscent of "Poppy" from Seinfeld fame not washing after dooking and then tossing a pizza for Jerry. ok sorry, had to see that one to understand

Carmi said...

Funny how I didn't have a problem with MY kids' diapers. But anyone ELSE'S kids' diapers weirded me out.

I use public washrooms only as a last resort. When I do, I turn my usually backward-worn hat forward and lower the beak significantly. If I recognize anyone, I keep my head down and pray he doesn't notice me.

Oh, and I keep a thing of Purell in my knap sack. Just in case.

Thanks for the laugh, mon ami. You always manage to find the funny.