Enemy territory

It has certainly been awhile, and this is because I got the ole writers block, which is better than having the ole scurvy...I was recently home for a July 4th extravaganza and Mom began to criticize my recent posts on this here blog. Mom asked me why all I seem to write about is synagogue and stuff of that ilk. The truth is that I used to write about food and deli alot, and before that I wrote about dating alot. But something I really never got to discuss in full detail- and it really deserves more than one rant- is going to the bathroom. I love going to the bathroom b/c it is when I can concentrate the best. I can study there for hours at a time, and the knowledge just flows into me...maybe as the waste leaves my body, I am able to replace it simultaneously with exciting law knowledge...who knows. At work, I sometimes go to the bathroom to take naps, b/c I cannot nap at my desk, as this is deemed "unprofessional". Now that I think about it, taking a nap on the toilet is probably more "unprofessional" but no one is able to see. To make it super-authentic, I even lower the trousers, so I can trick people into thinking I am actually using the bathroom. I am devious. Is this too much information for you people?

Anyway, so u all get the point- I appreciate a good bathroom outing. Sometimes, however, bathroom conditions are far from ideal. This tragic situation occured to me on Wednesday evening of this week. A female companion of mine suggested that we go get Ben and Jerry's ice cream on 104th street in NYC. As a side note, since when is there a Ben and Jerry's on 104th street??? Why was I not notified of this amazing discovery until this week. I am very upset. Anyway, I got chocholate fudge brownie frozen yogurt, b/c Mom has instituted a new rule that I can no longer eat ice cream b/c it is making my romp get fat. I also have to drink diet snapple, diet coke, and skim milk and splenda in my coffee. This won't ever work b/c I still drink beer. Strangely, Mom has not yet passed a rule against beer drinking.

So as you might remember from a post entitled "The Lactose Intolerance", sometimes my stomach reacts unfavorably to the presence of Lactose. I just realized that Lactose is similar to the expensive brand Lacoste. Not sure if there is any other connectionl, other than the fact that I am "Lacoste intolerant" as well, b/c I hate people who wear those shirts. Ironically, however, I myself have some lacoste items, so this may mean that I hate myself. More on this at a therapy session later. The point is that I had to really go to the bathroom, and so I asked the female companion if I can use her facilities. I knew that this was a dangerous proposition, but I was getting hit hard, and I had to do this. I asked her where the spray was as well, and this made us both uncomfortable.

This female has two roomates and they were both home = 3 girls in the apartment that I feared would all stand next to the door and try to listen to me on the toilet. That is why the first thing I did upon arriving in this strange, rose-scented bathroom, was turn on the faucet, shower, take out a set of drums, and make any other noise I can so that they could not hear me actually excreting. I'm pretty sure this plan worked to perfection, but I then encountered 2 more obstacles.

First- I wanted to make sure the bathroom was as clean and pleasent as it was when I entered. This meant that I would have to spend the next 14 minutes cleaning every spot of the room, so that the 3 ladies would never ever remember that I desecrated their bathroom palace. I scrubbed, I poured toilet cleaner in the toilet, and that just turned all the water blue. I also had to spray, which brings me to the second obstacle...

Second- Remember how I asked the female if they had spray? Well, they did, and she even told me that it was in a corner next to the toilet. What she didn't tell me was that said corner was also stocked with female-oriented products known as tampons. Now, I mean stocked...like when elaine wants to stock up on sponges on Seinfeld. I guess these girls get this stuff at Costco or whatever. The point is that I did not plan on sifting through boxes of tampons in order to locate a spray.

I gotta tell you- I was seized with such a mad panic when I didn't see that spray at first. I had no idea what the hell I would have done. Luckily, I found it and sprayed it for 10 minutes straight, before passing out on the floor from the chemicals. I never want to go to a girl bathroom again-its forever marked and etched in my mind as "enemy territory", and I want 2 bathrooms when I am married, and I want mine to have a piano in it, so my musically talented friends can play tunes for me...preferably show tunes, and no jewish music, b/c then I would sing along and i think that is not allowed.