Disgusting whores

People continue to appall me. It’s like there’s this neverending trail of appalling folks whose sole purpose it is in life to find new and increasingly horrific ways to send my brain reeling.

I rushed to the loo a few minutes ago, fraught with the realization that if I didn’t get myself inside that toilet stall RIGHT NOW, I would be trailing coffee-scented pee all up and down the hallway. If you’re not a coffee-drinker, you don’t realize how drinking four cups for breakfast can make your piss stink like cheap gas station house blend. It’s gross and yet slightly titillating.

Anyway.

So I reach the bathroom, shove open a stall door and step inside with a huge sigh of relief. I turn to close and latch the door behind me, and that’s when I came face-to-face with the giant, lumpy, shiny smear of goo trailed across half the white Formica partition. My instant reaction was to jump back against the opposite wall with loud gasp, shrinking in fear from this foul substance that dared distract me from one of the most important tasks ever. So horrified was I by the appearance of a possible foreign bodily fluid mere millimeters from my face that I actually lost the urge to urinate.

After waiting about thirty seconds to be sure that the smear wasn’t going to attack, I leaned in a little to see if I could tell what the offending material could possibly be.

I’m pretty sure it was bloody smegma. I shit you not. As soon as I realized this, exited the stall about as quickly as a person really can without drawing attention to themselves in a public restroom. As I sat there in my new, clean stall, I tried to work it out in my poor little brain. Who the hell does that shit? No, really…what kind of jacked-up human being do you have to be that smearing your own bodily fluids on the bathroom wall seems OKAY?! I don’t care if it’s even in your own home…who the hell does that? There is nothing that comes out of my body that I’m so enamored with that I feel other people should share in the experience or at the very least that I should preserve it on a wall somewhere.

You’d figure that ladies who wear skirts and work in office buildings and have nicely-manicured nails would be a little more…uh…refined than that. I have frequently been disgusted by what I walk in on sometimes: used toilet seat covers danging from the bowl, vomit spatters on the back of the seat, a used tampon applicator not tucked completely through the sanitary disposal slot. But this is really just too much. This wasn’t someone being lazy. This was someone being a disgusting whore.

When I was younger, I had a solid policy of never using a public restroom for two specific reasons. 1) I like the privacy of a home bathroom. 2) I can’t trust what kind of foul shit the rest of the world gets up to. I relaxed this policy as I got older because I figured that sometimes you gotta just go and deal with the fallout later. It sounds like I’m going to need to reinstitute this practice because people really are just disgusting whores. They are. They’re just horrible, foul, nasty bastards who come to work in nice clothes and lots of makeup and a pleasant smile with their crotches full of vile chunky secretions they’re just ITCHING to share with the rest of the world.

I probably shouldn’t drink the fresh cup of coffee I just poured for myself, lest I have to make a return trip and find all three stalls decorated with matching smears.