Men's Room Morning Massacre
Why is it that the Men’s bathroom at work is so busy first thing in the morning? There’s literally an entire line-up of obstructed men, all shifting foot to foot in anxious anticipation of a stall soon opening up.
Why do they all wait to get to work before they decide to empty their bowels? Why the fuck don’t they do that at home? Isn't that something you normally prefer to do at home anyway as opposed to waiting until you are surrounded by your peers and separated by a thin metal wall? I HATE stepping into the Men’s room at 8:30AM to a wall of stink so thick that you could carve your initials in it.
That’s not exactly the kick-start to a chipper, productive morning, is it?
Either these guys should start dropping their payloads at home, where they belong, or else limit their morning diuretics like double-double coffees and Egg McMuffins until, say, noon.
Or to be totally proactive on the situation, management could provide these smelly bastards with a special designated porto-potty out in the parking lot that they can use when their morning doses of grease and caffeine pulls the plug on their weak, girlish bowels, working their lubed up sphincter like the bellows at a Blacksmith’s shop, and not offend, taint, or blind any unsuspecting co-workers before they make it to their desks first thing in the morning.
Why do they all wait to get to work before they decide to empty their bowels? Why the fuck don’t they do that at home? Isn't that something you normally prefer to do at home anyway as opposed to waiting until you are surrounded by your peers and separated by a thin metal wall? I HATE stepping into the Men’s room at 8:30AM to a wall of stink so thick that you could carve your initials in it.
That’s not exactly the kick-start to a chipper, productive morning, is it?
Either these guys should start dropping their payloads at home, where they belong, or else limit their morning diuretics like double-double coffees and Egg McMuffins until, say, noon.
Or to be totally proactive on the situation, management could provide these smelly bastards with a special designated porto-potty out in the parking lot that they can use when their morning doses of grease and caffeine pulls the plug on their weak, girlish bowels, working their lubed up sphincter like the bellows at a Blacksmith’s shop, and not offend, taint, or blind any unsuspecting co-workers before they make it to their desks first thing in the morning.
posted by crazytigerrabbitman at
3:25 PM
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