First, a gripe. Why is it that men over the age of 30 seem to have no grasp of proper bathroom etiquette? I go to the bathroom at work, and if there's another guy in there, he feels compelled to make conversation. Conversation is for when you're washing your hands. The best that can be allowed when in front of a urinal is a cursory greeting, or a lame joke like, "Gee, this water is cold," or "Oh, now what the fuck is that?" Proper urinal etiquette is thus:
1) No eye contact. Stare at the wall directly in front of you, and if you have to, at your business. But don't look at it for too long, otherwise you seem overly impressed with yourself. And only I have the right to be impressed with myself.
2) Do not speak. If you must speak, make sure you are following rule #1.
3) If possible, choose an odd numbered urinal. As a courtesy, try to make sure that you can do so without sticking any possible newcomer with the junior urinal. No one wants piss on his shoes.
4) NEVER take the second urinal of three unless you are the third person to enter the bathroom. In this situation, it is acceptable to go to a stall instead.
5) If you experience the mid-trickle tickle, try to hide it. No one needs to know you're enjoying yourself.
Now, most of the men I know are aware of these rules. But apparently, men who work for Mercedes-Benz are not familiar with these rules. I may have to post them on the bathroom wall.
And while I'm on the subject, the urinals at this office are like Chinese torture traps. They are shaped just so: if you stand at a standard distance, there is no proper stream angle that prevents splashing; you inevitably get a little sprinkle on your hands. If you try to aim downward, the urinal cake covers your pants in blue shit that makes it look like you were spurted on by a whole platoon of Smurfs. The only solution is to stand at a longer-than-normal distance. The problem with this solution is that the urinals are positioned right by the door. So, if you stand back, when someone opens the door, it appears that you are displaying your junk to the whole universe. No one needs to see your junk. So you are left with a choice: Pee on your hands, or run the risk of someone getting an unsolicited look at your pecker as they walk into the bathroom.
Now, the rest. I have two new babies... I'm trying to figure out what to name them. The frontrunner names are Wendy and Bebe, but those are a little obscure. Betty and Wilma are also options, but I'm not settled on anything yet. I think it took me about a week to come up with Moose and Squirrel.
Inexplicably, my fantasy team has been sucking massive wang, despite having 4 stud wide receivers and the #1 fantasy QB in the league. I am 0-3. God dammit.
The Dolphins looked absolutely awesome last night. Too bad I can't count on them to do anything like that when it really matters.
The Packers lost to the Cardinals. I guess I don't feel too guilty for their loss to the Vikings after that.
I went to a Florida State game this weekend. At one point, I actually felt literally queasy because I was surrounded by Seminoles. And they say our cheers are stupid. Wooo!
I did have fun in Tallahassee, despite the queasiness. I have to admit that.
Party Team T-shirts may seem like a stupid idea, but they are actually quite brilliant.
I never thought I'd live to see a worse Florida quarterback than Doug Johnson. But Ingle Martin, you sure are exceptional. I can't believe Rex Grossman is a Bear now.
More later. </font>