June 08, 2007

Misc bathroom observations

In the vein of talking about toilets, the toilet in my office (meant for two, but only if you're really dirty, or married) is so freaking humongous it’s bigger than my room (meant for one, I'm so lonely QQ). Life is so unfair.

Let’s go over the features, shall we? It has marble counter tops, huge hotel-like mirror, two sinks, a bathtub wider and longer than my bed, a spacious shower stall, a toilet and a bidet thingy that I assume does not work cos it’s kinda cobwebby where bidets should never be cobwebby.

It’s so big that every time I go to the toilet I join the rombongan melawat tandas. Uber man, just uber. When I’m in there, I also get the insane urge to lounge in the comfy-looking bathtub, except it’s rendered not-so-comfy because it’s strewn with old newspapers.

Hmmm, perhaps strewn is not the right word to use. I suspect the management had someone cover up the tub to prevent workers from longing in the bathtub, so they’re instead forced to lounge in the extremely comfortable chairs at their workstations while Sam Hui’s Japanese Girl blares loudly from the speakers.

Working life is so tough man.

WTB RL aimbots for men

You know the one thing I don’t like about sharing toilets with guys? Imagine a bladder about to burst. Imagine your smug know-it-all friend (or mom) saying, “Here’s an idea. Next time, try to pee before your bladder fills to bursting?”

Now imagine running into the toilet in a cold sweat, fuelled by horrible images of a literal burst bladder and a mixture of pee and blood and whatever else is in your bladder running down your leg in rivulets. Imagine surviving the rest of your life with no bladder, and imagine living down the notoriety of being forever known as The Girl Whose Bladder Burst.

You think that’s the worst thing? God no. No no no no. The worst thing is making it to the toilet and just as you’re about to take your pants off, you feel something wet and slightly sticky on your feet.

Face looks down. Face reflects confuzzledment. Realisation dawns. Face contorts in disgust and anger. Face screws up in pain.

Congratulations, your bladder has now burst because instead of peeing, you stopped to investigate why your feet were steeped in a puddle of pee, fresh from the urethra of some testosterone-filled jock who cannot aim.

Nice one, guys.

It’s not like the toilet bowl is two inches in diameter, thus making it insanely hard for even Stojakovic to hit the target all the time. The freaking thing is like 3 feet wide, you could drive a truck there and not miss, which is the whole bloody point.

And please don’t plead inconsistent pee volume, cos
1) If your pee velocity fluctuates that much, I think you need to seek help, and fast.
2) If you aim properly, even as the velocity wanes its not gonna fall that short.
3) If it does, you should know better and freaking stand closer to the bowl already!

I’ll avoid voicing the insinuation that you’re perhaps not as well endowed as you thought you were. Oops…

Hmmm, first time I’ve actually written a post with helpful suggestions. Milestone or what? ;)

June 05, 2007

DND @ work

Saffron is officially a productive member of society, and no longer one of the 80,000-strong army of unemployed graduates Malaysia proudly boasts of.

I’m employed, and paid real money not beer, with EPF deductions and all, so I'm officially grown up HUZZAH!

In addition to blogging and spamming chatboxes, I also thought of "inspiring names" for phallic buildings that are the physical equivalent of e-peens, and came up with Hallmark-like sayings for an annual dinner invitation card, so there will be absolutely NO questioning of my productivity thanks.

FYI for noobs, those comment-on-current-event-posts are just fillers made to look pseudo-intellectual, kthx.