Psych Experiment

A friend of mine has a very odd younger brother. At her birthday party he proudly told us about the psychological experiments he was conducting in public restrooms. Mainly, Pee Boy wanted to make people uncomfortable.

Experiment 1: The Wide Stance
Pee Boy spread his legs far enough to brush against the man in the next stall. Each time, the man would move away. PB would spread his legs further and further until the subject was urinating with his own feet together, to avoid touching him.

Experiment 2: Satisfaction
PB stood at a urinal, sighing like a person who was very relieved to finally use the bathroom. His sighs of content would get louder and louder, until any men who entered the bathroom was unnerved enough by his behavior that they not only refused to use the urinal next to him, but any urinal at all. PB said a small herd of men eventually gathered in the far corner of the bathroom, waiting for their turn, despite the many urinals available.

Experiment 3: Personal Interaction
Men have an unspoken rule about urinal use. Unless there is no choice, one must not select the urinal next to one already in use. Pee Boy broke this rule. In addition, he broke the second unspoken rule about keeping his eyes straight ahead, and the third unspoken rule about not starting conversations. PB stood at a urinal next to a man, turned to him and said "Nice."

The man freaked out, stopped urinating mid-stream, and fled into a stall.

I'm surprised no one beat up Pee Boy.

Toilet Nazi

Odd Guy isn't just a greedy little bastard, he's a control freak.

Today, he asked to talk to me privately in my room. l left the door open and spoke loudly enough for the rest of the roommates to hear.

Odd Guy had a spreadsheet and said he wanted to schedule our bathroom times in half-hour blocks. He insisted it was necessary because we had 5 people in one apartment. (Who's fault is that?)

He wanted to institute several rules:
1. No one is allowed to shower in the morning.
2. You must only use your scheduled time in the morning.
3. If it's not your time you can't use the bathroom, even if it's empty, just in case the person who "owns" the time wants it.

Obviously, I was not enthusiastic about this idea.

He put himself down for 7 AM - 7:30 AM and asked me what time I needed. I said, "All of us need to talk about this together."

He said, "Yeah, I'll talk to everyone else afterwards."

I said, "We should all talk to everyone, because what if people want the same time?"

He responded with "Don't worry, you get to pick first." (I think he was trying to be "nice" because he sensed that I have the ability to lead a mutiny. I've used the past 24 hours to be my charming self and become super-chummy with the other roommates, especially in his presence. They invited me to dinner with them tonight, but left him out of the plans).

I left the bedroom and announced, "He wants to schedule our bathroom times." Everyone looked at him like he was a zoo creature.

He kept pointing to his spreadsheet and insisting what a good and necessary idea it was. We tried to explain calmly and rationally that 30 minutes is a really long time to camp out in the bathroom continuously. We are (mostly) reasonable people, and if someone yells "I have to brush my teeth and get to class in 10 minutes!" no one is going to insist on taking a long bath and waxing their legs at that moment. Also, if someone needs to take up the bathroom for 2 minutes just to pee, it's stupid to make them wait for "their time" just in case someone else needs it.

Odd Guy didn't believe us. He said, "You won't just take 2 minutes."

This morning, Odd Guy wasn't home, and the rest of us had no problem being courteous together and having things work out. However, cooperation is apparently foreign concept to Odd Guy. We finally got him to drop the topic (temporarily) by saying that this is the first week of class and not everyone's schedule is set. I suggested that since we did not have a problem this morning, there was a very good chance we would not have a problem in the future so severe we needed scheduling. If two people woke up one morning at the same time, and one was running very late, the two people could talk it out.

I'm sure Odd Guy is pissed at me right now for thwarting his control freak plans. The other roommates revealed to me that they had asked for my phone number prior to moving in, so they could talk to me, and he refused to give it to them. He also lied to them about how soon I am moving out, and said, "Don't worry, I can kick her out any time."

I definitely am not in love with living at the apartment, and would like to get out as soon as possible, but I still need to finish school. If Odd Guy tries to carry out his threat, I'll remind him that he wouldn't want the landlord to know about his unauthorized subletting scheme.

Sidenote: While talking to my sister about him, I referred to him as an ugly twisted gnome. My sister thinks I should call him Ugly Twisted Individual. Given his bathroom fixation, perhaps UTI is a fitting name.

Ass Stones

Can someone tell me whether this is a male thing or the men in my lab are unusually comfortable revealing intimate details about their bowel movements?

At lunch the other day Guy #1 told us about his episode of constipation. We found out how long it lasted, how it felt, what positions were uncomfortable to him, what remedies he tried, what medication worked and what the final release looked like.

Guy #2 exclaimed, "Wow, that sounds painful! It's like ass stones!"

Guy #3 said, "That's Type I on the Bristol Stool Chart! Hard like nuts!"

Guy #1 said, "They were really shooting out."

Guy #2 laughed, "Haha like a gun!" then started making shooting and flicking motions with his fingers, accompanied by "Bew! Bew!" missile noises.

One day they grow up, right?

Blue Man Group Shenanigans

Earlier in the year I was invited to see the Blue Man Group's How to Be a Megastar show. (If you haven't seen the show I highly recommend it. I cannot accurately describe its fantasticness in mere words).

My friend Karen knew one of the tech guys for the show, and he offered to get us complimentary tickets. My thoughts were, "Really? But the show's sold out, right? Whhhhheeee! Wheeeeeee! Squeeeee!"

I would have been happy with any seat, even seats in the nosebleed section, so when we picked up tickets at Will Call that were printed "Floor 3" I had absolutely no problem with this.

However, once inside the arena, the ushers directed us to really prime seats in the front. "Floor 3" didn't mean seats on the third level. It meant seats on the floor, next to the stage, in section 3! My reaction was "Wheeee! I wouldn't have been able to afford an $86 ticket. Wheeee! Wait, we won't get food thrown on us right? Wooooooo!"

But here's the really really fun part: We had backstage passes! I've never had one of those, so I wasn't sure how they worked. I assumed a large group of the audience would be herded into a back room to watch the performers be interviewed by the press, or something.

However, we actually got to meet, take pictures with, and get autographs from the Blue Man Group and their back-up band and vocalists. Everyone was very friendly for people who were probably exhausted and dying to take a shower.

Wheeeeee!

The Blue Man Group remained in character throughout the meet and greet. They were completely silent and did not sign names. Instead, they smudged blue greasepaint onto papers as their "autographs." (One Blue Man kissed my paper and gave me lovely blue lip prints). They also blessed a bald fan by putting a blue palmprint on his head.

The backstage activities lasted about 20 minutes, and then the performers and audience left. However, since my friend Karen knew the tech guy, he took us to the tourbus area.

I wonder if anyone who saw us heading towards the back thought, "Those are some weird, non-skanky-looking groupies there." (We heard rumors that the show was sometimes messy, so I wore comfy jeans, beat-up tennis shoes, a turtleneck and a windbreaker).

Mr. Tech took us to the bus he shared with 8 other tech guys. "Welcome to the coffin box."

It was a very nice RV with marble counters, leather couches and DVD screens in all the bunk beds, but it was still very cramped for 6 months on the road. He told us that since it was a male tech bus, they actually had a subscription to the Playboy channel. You could find out who was hiding in his bunk by turning off the main TV, which was connected to the smaller bunk screens. The way to get a guy out of his bunk was to cut off the Playboy access.

There was a very small toilet in the RV. The tech guy warned us, "You can go number 1 in there, but we're not allowed to go number 2."

What?

"Yeah, the toilet isn't designed for that. If we have to go, we have to hold it until the next stop."

Ew.

Still, it was a fabulous evening, and definitely a great experience!

Addiction to Junk

My boss has a habit of buying things from mail-order catalogs because they are cheap, and not because she really needs them. (I've written about some of her previous purchases before).

It's obvious she has a problem because she has the packages and catalogs sent to the office, so her husband won't see them.

Despite a conspiracy to hide the catalogs from her, and telling her she's not "saving" money by spending it on junk, packages still show up. She claims they were "back-ordered."

I decided to look through the last catalog that came in the mail, to see what the allure was. It was filled with "As Seen on TV" kitchen gadgets, and tacky home decor items.

One item in particular caught my eye. It was a Thanksgiving decoration that I showed my boss.

"Geez," I said, "who would buy a giant plush turkey toilet cover?"

My boss looked down. "I have one of those."

She's officially helpless.

Political Graffiti

In a bathroom stall on campus, on the back of a door:
"Vote for Obama!"

Underneath, in different handwriting:
"Oh my god! I've been wondering who to vote for. Thank you, oh wise and omnipotent bathroom graffiti!"

Trickle Toilet

I was waiting in a public restroom that had only 1 stall.

The stall door was closed and I could hear a gentle stream of water.

I stood there for a while and thought, "Gee, this person has been peeing for a really long time."

Eventually I realized the stall was empty and the toilet was leaking.

I was tricked by a porcelain bowl with a gift for mimicry.

Crapper the Cat

Someone told me about a cat they own, whose nickname is "Crapper."

This is because the cat expresses its displeasure through bowel movements. Crapper has decided it's too good to eat dry cat food. If Crapper's owner doesn't get up at 4 AM in the morning to give it wet cat food, Crapper will leave doody piles in the house.

This cat knows how to use a litter box. It will actually pee in the litter box, then defiantly step outside of it to leave a solid deposit just beyond the periphery.

At first, Crapper's Owner (CO) thought she could put a plastic liner around the litter box to solve the problem. The selectively incontinent cat decided to travel a little further, and poop just outside the edge of the liner.

Then CO put a very large plastic sheet under the box, covering the entire floor.

Crapper decided to leave a landmine in the hallway.

Eventually, CO left out a bowl of dry cat food for 3 days, and the petulant feline regained its potty training . . .

. . . until CO got a boyfriend. Crapper pooped until he left.

The Roommate Saga Part 1

Some of you may be aware I moved earlier this summer. There were some lingering issues I had to deal with, mainly connected to one particular roommate, Sleazy Chick. Now that certain financial issues have been resolved (and hopefully I will never have to contact her or her family again), it's time to rant about what she put us through.

This will be a multi-part series. First, let's give you some background about her.

She had a number of disgusting habits, but here are a few:
1. Regularly leaving her dishes unwashed for up to 2 weeks.
2. Clogging up the toilet and leaving to stay with her boyfriend, without calling maintenance.
3. Smoking pot with all the doors and windows closed (while the rest of us were home).
4. Being inebriated and crying so loudly for hours we couldn't sleep. (If it's 2 AM in the morning, and you need to fight with your boyfriend, do it in your car. Better yet, drive somewhere else first).
5. Having equally disgusting, drunken friends who threw up in my bathtub, used my towels (and then put the soiled items back in the cupboard).
6. Hosting a party where we ended up with paint on the wall, dirt and rocks on the carpet, used glassware mixed in with our clean dishes, and beer cans in the bathroom.
7. Buying Costco-sized packs of pregnancy tests. (I am not kidding. I found them when looking for toilet paper and was absolutely weirded out. It never occurred to me that anyone would want to, or need to, buy more than 1, or even 2, tests at a time).

No, she was not "white trash." She came from a well-to-do family, wore expensive clothes and drove a nice car. She was just one of the most appallingly inconsiderate people I've ever met.

Part 2 will set the foundation for the move-out drama.

Kidney Stones

My mother sometimes had unusual, but effective, parenting techniques. When I was a child, she showed me my dad's kidney stones.

"Okay, you see this stuff that looks like big grains of sand in your dad's pee? That's what happens when you don't drink enough water. Imagine how painful it is to pee rocks."

As an adult, people have commented about how much water I drink.

Holding It In

An example of how not to be helpful:

On a long road trip through the desert, miles of highway in both directions, no bathroom in sight, I had to go.

I have a small bladder and generally frequent the facilities once an hour.

It had been 2.5 hours and I was trapped on a bus.

I was desperate.

My father said, "It'll be all right as long as you don't think about having to go to the bathroom."

I grumbled.

"Really, don't think about it."

Several minutes later he reminded me, "Don't think about having to go to the bathroom."

A little while later he decided to be helpful once again. "Remember, don't think about it."

He didn't seem to understand that saying "Don't think about peeing!" has the opposite effect.

Marking Your Territory

My parents are locked in a battle with the neighborhood cats, who seem to have selected our garden as their favorite litter box. The stress is starting to show.

My dad: "The stupid cat peed on the lawn again!"

My mom: "Maybe you should too. You know, 'I'm bigger than you and this is my territory!'"

She giggled, so she's still sane.

Ridiculous Bathroom Part 3

This is the last potty post for now. Part 1. Part 2.

Part 3: The Orphan Toilet

It's not unusual to enter a restaurant bathroom and find a stall-less toilet. That alerts you to the fact that this is a one person bathroom, and you should lock the door behind you.

However, I was once stymied by a bathroom that had two toilets: one within a stall, and one not. Yes, in a multi-toilet bathroom there was one that was not enclosed. Questions raced through my mind.

Was I supposed to heed the call of the orphan toilet and lock the main door behind me, thus rendering the other toilet inaccessible and useless to anyone else? Why bother having a second toilet then?

What if I decided to call this a two person bathroom and use the toilet in the stall? Wouldn't it be terribly weird for someone to come in and realize they couldn't use the orphaned toilet? They'd have to stand there, looking forlornly at the toilet they could not use, while hopping up and down, mentally willing their bladder to control itself.

OMG! What if they were stupid enough to use the orphan toilet (or simply didn't notice me in the stall)? I'd have to yell, "Hey, I'm coming out! Is everything zipped up and buttoned out there?" to avoid seeing something I didn't want to see.

I ended up using the toilet in the stall and locking the main door.

Later my friend suggested the bathroom was designed for people who don't like to go to the bathroom alone.

"Um, like a mother and child?"

"Yeah, they can hold hands."

Ridiculous Bathroom Part 2

For another poorly designed bathroom: Part 1

Part 2: Hobbit Stalls

The usual bathroom stall dividers are tall enough to prevent you from seeing the people in the stalls (except for their feet) for obvious reasons.

However, I was once in a public restroom where the dividers only came up to about neck-level. I am not freakishly tall, so don't blame this on my physiology.

Although you couldn't see anything from the neck down (and thus the very private things remained private), it was still very disconcerting to turn to your right and suddenly say hello to your neighbor.

At least the stalls were reasonably wide. The only thing more awkward than seeing another human face out of the corner of your eye would have been to know that they were really close to you.

Hey contractors, did you cheap out on materials? Did you hire munchkin architects? Did you decide that women like an audience, like men at urinals?

Whatever it is you did, don't do it again. When I pee I don't want to see anyone else.

Ridiculous Bathroom Part 1

I've seen some poorly designed bathrooms, and I'm not referring to their choice of wallpaper. I mean they have structural aspects that seem . . . inappropriate. These include a stall with a big window in it, stalls not suitable for tall people and a naked toilet without a stall (in a multi-toilet bathroom).

Part 1: Bathroom for Peeping Toms

I once entered a bathroom stall and felt there was something a bit off about it. It was very well-lit, breezy and good god! had a giant 4 foot x 4 foot window in it. The bathroom was on the third floor of the building, and the big window was directly across the window of another building very close by. At least the bathroom was not on the ground floor, where every passerby could glance in.

As I puzzled over what moron would design a woman's bathroom this way I realized this was not the original design.

I came to the conclusion the building was old and the bathroom was not built to accomodate the disabled. Later, to bring everything up to code they had to make a wheelchair-accessible stall. The easiest way to do this was to make one of the stalls bigger. They achieved this by extending the stall along the wall until it happened to include the big window.

So, that's understandable. But couldn't they have at least frosted the windows?