Dear Facebook Diary (7/15/12)

Dear Facebook Diary,

If masturbation kills brains cells then I will be a single celled living organism by the middle of August. That is my final comment about this monotonous summer. What I would really like to talk about is public restrooms and more specifically the topic of relieving oneself in public restrooms. You see, I work at Jack Hannah’s Smoked Animal Planet across from the UNK campus and there is no faculty only restroom that patrons are restricted from using. There is only the men’s and women’s restrooms and no other logical choice of where a fellow employee or I can choose to relinquish our body wastes. We are relegated to pissing and pooping in the same commodes as the overweight flesh-eating peons that visit the barbeque boat on a regular basis.

Today was one of the Saturdays in which I worked from dawn till dusk. These long workdays are usually easy to handle and despite my being a devout health fanatic in both my physical and nutritional habits, I tend to eat like a pre-diabetic six year old on these longer working days. I never drink pop but I will eat anything that isn’t considered to be poison by the FDA. I starved myself for most of the day, consuming only a protein shake and my super secret high-powered branch chain amino acid drink that tastes like apple juice. This lasted me until around 7:00pm. Then the boss man showed up with two containers of Qdoba nachos. This was an extremely odd coincidence because I had been describing my strange hunger for nachos to my fellow crewmates earlier and then the finest nachos not found in Mexico had appeared in our workspace only a few short hours later.  I thought that I had sampled every nacho recipe under the sol, but apparently I had never eaten Qdoba nachos before tonight. These nachos were amazing in both their flavor and texture. There was warm cheese and meat hidden in crevices that could only be known by these nacho’s most intimate loved ones, and yet there I was discovering these hidden gems with my tongue and taste buds. I told myself that I would only eat a small portion of these nachos but instead I ate roughly one and a half of the only two containers that were offered to us. So good… these nachos were so fucking good.

I’m guessing that these nachos had not been thoroughly inspected by the U.S. Customs and Border Protection when they entered America because the nachos impregnated me with an entire litter of brown-back boa constrictors less than an hour after consuming them. Luckily the restaurant was empty so I had no reservations about using the public shitbox to birth the anxious plumber snakes. I entered the toilet office and sat down on the thrown.

I will tell you right away that nothing special happened while I was in the men’s room spending half an hour pouring Mexican cement into the toilet. I just wanted to build up some tension in this story and I also find lowbrow dick and fart jokes to be hilarious when delivered correctly, so I am in constant pursuit of perfecting them. Anyway, I was trapped in the single toilet stall with nothing more than stench and my thoughts. I became fully aware of the constant anxiety that takes place while defecating in a public restroom. Peeing in a public restroom is tough enough; even I get stage fright when there is a line of people behind me waiting to use the restroom. But producing dung in a public restroom creates a whole new world of paranoia while the action of pooping is taking place. The slightest sound or inclination that the door might open or someone is in the room will cause even the most hardened poopers to freeze and force the prairie dog back into hiding, causing discomfort and possibly the complete inability to resume pooping after the sound has been dismissed as something meaningless and non-human. In fact, the combination of Qdoba nachos and a restroom could be used as a humane torture device to obtain important information from terrorist. The interrogator could offer Qdoba nachos to their target as a means of relaxing the terrorist. Members of al-Qaeda and people racked with insanity are known for having the ability to withhold all information during all means of torture but nobody on Earth can resist Qdoba nachos. Coffee could also be given to hasten the interrogation process. After the terrorist is relaxed and some friendly conversation has taken place, the terrorist would soon feel the intestinal wrath of the tasty dish, as it is my personal experience that Qdoba nachos hold allegiance to no one because they will turn on their consumer without notice. Then the interrogator would allow their target to use the restroom but the bathroom must have a door that is unable to be locked. The terrorist would rock back and forth with horrendous anxiety as they nervously held back the huge release and lowered their thunder to tiny pops and squeaks due to their concern of someone possibly entering the bathroom. Then after five minutes the interrogator would storm into the bathroom and immediately barrage the terrorist with questions about future plans of terrorism and any other naughty stuff that terrorists think about. The terrorist would tell the interrogator everything just to make the interrogator leave them in peace so that they may finish their poop in private. I know that if someone had entered the bathroom and asked me the most personal questions hidden within me, I would have bared my soul just to make them leave the fucking bathroom so I could finish pooping.

This is a stupid post. I was just thinking out loud. I suppose I’ll look at porn and have a vodka tonic now.

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