Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Someone had one Hell of a night.

I was running late this morning, due to various roads being flooded or trees being down. I got to campus with about ten minutes to park, pee and beat feet to my ten AM class.

I managed to sprint from the far-flung faculty lot to the class building and up three flights of stairs to the first convenient Proffy pooper. It was uncharacteristically smelly, but I was too hurried to thoroughly check things out, I rushed in, dropped my bag, slammed the door and unleashed, only to look up and discover...

...hanging on the little hook usually reserved for purses or keys/ID on lanyards, a pair of (formerly) white, hippopotamic, beshitted granny panties. We're talking step-ins vast enough to be a sail for a forty-foot vessel.

It's not as if someone rinsed them out and hung them to dry, either -- oh, no. These were ripe and lump-laden.

I damn near lost my coffee on my shoe-tops.

I eased out of the stall and grabbed the nearest maintenance worker (poor bastard), who marked the bathroom out of order.

The Hell is wrong with people? At least throw your dirty squirrel-covers out, don't festoon them around the only bathroom on the fucking floor!

1 comment:

Play nicely with others, or eat banhammer.