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19 May 2015

WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?

I wasn’t going to post today, I was going to work on collating the 300 lists that I have made for 25-by-25, 30-by-30, and 101-by-1001 which I started writing probably a year ago. But the overdose of poop/potty-related posts in and around the blogger world (I read four poop-related posts in two days, gotta be a record of some sort) and an incident in the office washroom have prodded me to posting this.


I’ve written about my washroom OCDs and how I try my best to not subject myself to public washrooms. But on those occasions that I do, my sweet Lord, they make me regret it.

  • How do you manage to get footprints on the seat? No, wait, you did WHAT? Oh no, you didn’t! You didn’t use Western pot Indian style, did you? You did? Wow. Just. Wow.
  • WASH YOUR HANDS, MAN. WASH IT NOW. BEFORE YOU SAY HI TO ME AND TOUCH MY TEE WHICH I WILL HAVE TO HACK TO BITS IF YOU TOUCH ME WITH YOUR UNWASHED HAND.
  • How about Googling the concept of a dry toilet? Sounds interesting? It has nothing to do with not drinking liquor in the toilet and everything to do with not using the hand shower to bathe the washroom itself. Or are you re-enacting a rain-drenched scene in a Bollywood movie? In which case, I request you to fuck off to your own washroom and do what you want there; I haven’t sinned enough to deserve sitting on wet toilet seats. Jaa Simran, jee le apni jindagi, apne toilet main.
  • IfyouleaveyourusedsanitarypadforthecleaningstafftofindandIevercatchyouatit, (menfolk, focus now), I promise you, I will embarrass the living daylights out of you. I will make sure the entire building knows you by name. I will take you down in a way that will make you cringe every time you open a new pack of Stayfree. Pinky promise. 
  • For the love of all things holy, eat right. No, I don’t care the least bit what your health readings are. What I do care about is the health of my nose hair. Which catches on fire when I smell the surprise aromas you leave for me in the washroom. And burn to death. Making me nose-deaf (coined by a dear ex-colleague of mine that makes perfect sense in context, so go with it) till I can grow new ones. Please, have mercy. Or hold it in till you reach home. 
  • How is it so difficult for you to flush? So...what?... You sit on the pot, finish your business, wash…. and then walk out? Do you not look back to see little bits of wonderful that originated from your esteemed butt adorning the watery depths of the PUBLIC commode? Or are you just so pleased with yourself that you want to subject the next user to the creativity of your skidmarks?


Okay, I'm done.




Linking to Jess at #IBOT