I work in education. And more often than not I absolutely love it. I love working with the up and coming leaders of our world. I love their ideas and their vigor and their stupid mother fucking entitlement…
Um. And their vigor.
But everything isn’t narwhals sneezing rainbows. There is one thing. Probably just one thing.
(I’m lying. There are about twenty seven things, but only one thing that I’m talking about today).
College boys go number two.
Grunting. Stinking. Nose hair curling. Eyehole stinging. Echoing. Twelve pack of Natty Light the night beforeing. Shit.
Every time I walk into the men’s room after this building opens, there is a stall (sometimes two) filled with young men in complete excretory agony.
The SOUNDS. The SMELLS!
I’ve learned to hold my breath when I go in to pee or wash my hands. God help me after a large iced when things take awhile. I come out of there with the bends.
Dudes? Dudebros? Duderonomy? Dudensteins?
Please poop at home!
I’m beggin’ ya.
The guy who pees in the trash can in the stacks furthest from the restroom