When I walk into the men's room at a restaurant (or anywhere for that matter) I get relieved when I see the urinals on the wall.  The presence of urinals means I did not accidently wander into the Ladies Room... again. 

I have 2 fears.  You know those baby dolls whose eyes open when they are vertical but the eyes close when you lay them down?  Those damn things creep me out. 

But to men's rooms and fears. I avoid having to use a stall because that means one thing: I am taking a dump in public.  And all the men in the room can hear and smell my activity.  Going #2 is a private affair and I get very grouchy when there is no way to avoid it. 

When I do have to use a stall and I am finished, I make sure my pants are up and fastened and the latch is unlocked BEFORE I flush.  Because my worst nightmare is having the toilet begin to overflow while my pants are still down and as I try to escape, the latch is stuck or broken as the raw sewage flows onto my shoes. 

Nowadays there are automatic flushers and it is a game of cat-and-flush with me.  Before I stand up, I have to lean over (or use my foot) and unlock the latch. Then I have to grab the waist of my pants and simutaneously pull them up as I stand up.  As the toilet begins to flush, I jump up and hop out of the stall as I finish pulling up my pants.  Whew! Never knew crapping was such an aerobic experience.

Okay, Sheep, stay tuned for more of my insights in upcoming blogs. Don't bother commenting because I won't read it anyway. Nobody cares what you have to say.

Yours Truly,

Grouchy Tallahassee