cowboy hats

THE BATHROOM BLOG
with Barry Dingle

Yeah, I've got problems. I'll be the first to tell you. Some I can control, some I can't. The worst, however, are the problems my obsessive-compulsive mind thinks it can control but most assuredly can't. This is one of those problems.

Those bastard ass paper ass gaskets in the bathroom. Those godforsaken cowboy hats. I understand the need for public restroom toilet seat protectors. I'm for them. But it's 2009 and we've yet to perfect them. That's a crime against man.

So I don't know about you but I'm very particular about how I sit on one of those bad daddies. Now, if you look closely, there are a couple of perforations made for the convenience of ripping apart, allowing your fecal matter a straight shot to the glory bowl. I like to punch out at least one of the perforations before I get down and dirty. Primarily, I do this because the idea of unloading and that door perhaps not opening up, scares the shit out of me, but not enough to break the seal, obviously. The minute chance of a canopy of steaming stink is enough to make me go the extra mile and provide a pre-made slide for log-jamming. Number two, I don't want the fatsos next to me to hear the ripping of the paper because then they know I'm shitting and that is socially unacceptable.

So, here's my deal. I punch it out and it hangs down. The problem occurs if that tip touches the water. It begins to suck up water and pulls the whole damn thing in before I can get my pants off and plant my tubby ass. Not only do I waste paper but I look like an ass in front of the toilet paper.

Figure it out, Paper Seat Protector Co. Because we are living in Back to the Future Part II times and I need some up to date toilet technology. The art of defecation has come a long way since the Middle Ages and I'll be damned if I let you or any other asshole mess with that progress.

1.23.09