Category Archives: potty mouth

The Do-It-Yourself Public Restroom in Times Square

Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, living in new york is neat, potty mouth
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Last night at 8 p.m., Kamran and I exited a movie theatre in Times Square, accompanied by our friends Jack, Beth, and Nik, Jack’s friend Chris, Jack’s friend Alex from Romania, and Alex’s Romanian girlfriend, Simina. We were walking down 42nd Street, trying to decide which is scarier: the flesh-sucking monsters we’d just seen in Zombieland or NYC tourists. Mid-conversation, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone bent over with liquid spilling all over her legs and the ground. She was out in the street, facing traffic, with her back to the sidewalk we were on, and I just assumed she was vomiting. She had wavy, shoulder-length black hair and a black suit jacket on. Her bottom half was nude-colored, but I just assumed she was wearing peach leggings. I couldn’t imagine a middle-aged woman wearing leggings without a long shirt covering them, but that seemed much more likely than what was actually happening, which was that

THE WOMAN HAD HER PANTS DOWN AND WAS PEEING
IN THE STREET
.

In Times Square. Which, if you’ve never seen it, is basically the center of the world. We’re talking thousands of people milling around a few blocks at all hours of the day and night, with enough lights on every building to make it seem as if the sun never sets. And mostly people who don’t live in NYC, which means a woman with her pants down in the street is about the most exciting thing they’ve ever seen. Traffic was stopped right in front of her, so people in cabs had their noses pressed to the glass not two feet away from her bare bits. The lights glared off the urine clinging to her flabby backside. People stopped and pointed her out to each other, and Kamran yelled for me to get my camera out.

But it was too late. She finished, pulled her pants up, and walked into the subway unashamed.

I Never Thought I’d End Up Here, Either

Filed under jobby jobby job job, potty mouth
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There’s a very sweet woman who cleans our bathroom at work. She’s a couple of years older than I am, I imagine, with large eyes and shiny brown hair that grows past her shoulders. She’s fit but curvy, so she looks pretty smokin’ in the white shirtdress that serves as her uniform.

For some reason, we always end up in the bathroom at the same time in the mornings. She rolls a little cart full of toilet paper, seat covers, and paper towels in and goes about refilling each stall. I always say hello to her, and she always smiles and says hello back with a bit of a European accent. I always think about how she was probably a teacher or a surgeon back home, but I’d never talked to her enough to ask her.

I was waiting for the elevator with two other women from the floor at noon yesterday, though, and when the doors opened, she was standing inside in a colorful striped shirt and dress pants. I said, “Done already?”, and she said, “Oh, no, just going for lunch. I change clothes, though, because I hate my uniform.” She paused and added, “I hate my job.”

I said, “I love your uniform! It’s really adorable, actually.” She said thanks, and then, out of nowhere, she said, “This is the only job I can get. In my country, I got a degree to be a physician’s assistant, but it doesn’t matter here.” I asked where she’s from, and she said Albania. I said, “You hear that a lot here. People who speak multiple languages and are obviously intelligent had jobs they loved overseas but can’t get work here.” One of the girls with me said, “I’ve met more doctor cab drivers . . .”

We all bid each other good day as we began to part ways in the lobby, and I wanted to say something like, “Umm . . . you’re really great at your job, if that helps.” But then I remembered that this is the girl who has to put a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom stall I’ve just pooped in, and nothing I can say is going to comfort her.

Poop of Love Deux

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, potty mouth
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After a tip from my super-Innanet-savvy co-worker Anthony, I sent Kamran this graphic from doodie.com:

And then we said this:

a) That’s why I love him, and
b) that’s why I love Gmail Chat.

This Ain’t “Seinfeld”, People

Filed under jobby jobby job job, potty mouth
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Last week, I walked into the ladies restroom at work and saw a black cardigan sweater draped across the back of one of the toilets and spilling on to the floor. Just looking at it sort of made me sick to my stomach, and in order to keep from vomiting, I had to stop myself from picturing some woman coming in, realizing it’s hers, picking it up off the back of the toilet, and putting it back on.

I swear, I’m about ten seconds away from putting a hazmat suit on every time I go in there, and someone’s taking her clothes off to pee?