6.16.2003

 
To understand the genesis of this post, I insist that you go read the fourth paragraph of this post by my pal Alfred Pennyworth.

Psst, are they gone?

Yes Nick’s toilet, they’re gone.

Phew. Their insistence on having the two of us and then what they do when using us really grosses me out. And I’m a toilet, so I have a pretty damn high tolerance for icky things.

I don’t think this duty is so gross.

You haven’t seen the full moon of Nick’s and felt the warming glow of his midnight stupor showers.

True Nick’s toilet, I haven’t had that awful experience.

Nor will you ever. Because you are the porcelain philosopher’s chair to but one tuckus, that fine melon of Jessica Simpson. You will never know the 98 degree stink of her beloved husband.

True, and you will never have the glory of caressing that beautiful booty once in high demand by hormonal teenage boys and now completely out of the media eye.

Shit, this duty is starting to make the two of us weird too.

How so?

Well, okay, so where were you stationed before this tour of duty?

Well, before becoming Jessica Simpson’s personal toilet, before giving Ms. Simpson the peace of mind in knowing that she will never fall into my tepid waters because her loving husband left the seat up, American Standard had me stationed at the Plaza Hotel in New York City.

Damn, some crappers get all the luck. Me, I was pulling duty at a truck stop outside of Moline, Illinois. Anything after that would constitute a promotion, believe you me.

Yeah, I guess so. And that Nick does have one nice tush. But how has working here made us weird?

Because heretofore we have just sort of accepted their behavior as a little odd but nothing more.

I'm still not with you.

Okay, so you were at the Plaza before coming here, so you probably don’t have a lot of experience working as part of a public bathroom team to make sure that all comers had recourse for their waste expulsion needs without suffering through an undo wait, but seriously, in all of my years working bathrooms with other johns, I ain’t never seen anything quite like this.

Quite like what?

A husband and a wife with their own personal toilets.

It’s not that weird, is it?

On its face, probably not. But the way they work it, damn.

Because…?

Okay, so seriously, you know that you have reached an important point in your relationship when you feel comfortable taking a leak in front of your boyfriend or girlfriend. Many couples don’t even make it to that level. And you can be damn sure that you got nothing to hide from your significant other if you feel comfortable plopping down on the philosopher’s chair and dropping a deuce while he or she brushes her teeth not five feet away. Couples married for 50 years often don’t make it to this level.

Where are you going with this one?

Well, have you ever heard of a couple that can sit down on the can next to each other and have a full blown conversation while both of them conduct business?

No, I suppose not.

Exactly. So the fact that they sit there and coo at each other doesn’t completely gross you out?

Well, I guess I never thought I would hear a beautiful blonde tell her husband that he looks kind of cute while grimacing through a bowel movement. And I have to tell you that it seems a little weird every time she mentions how she admires the way he wipes his bum with such deftness.

Now you’re catching on. See, people don’t do the sort of thing these two do. A husband does not normally tell his wife that her stream of pee sounds like a pleasant summer squall rapping at the window panes. A guy never tells a girl that smelling her farts is like going to the gas station; you know it’s supposed to smell bad, but for some reason you like the smell of gas anyway.

Yeah, I guess it does seem a little weird to me that Jessica says Nick looks so statuesque while he’s standing there taking a leak, like some Greek god. In all honestly, he looks like those tacky fountains where a naked little boy is peeing into the catch pool.

It’s not weird. It’s just gross. Having a community room to do business is fine. Even girls sitting in different stalls and having a chat is fine. And couples talking to each other while one is one the head is okay. But having personal toilets that they don’t share and the interactions they share while they simultaneously conduct their business does not just cross the line; it Carl Lewis on steroids leaps over it.

I suppose.

Man, I cannot wait to finish this duty and get transferred to Tommy Lee’s bathroom. That will probably be pretty damn gross too, but at least Tommy Lee will have the good sense not to compliment another person’s bodily functions.

I’ll stay here. After all, I do get to service Jessica Simpson’s ass.

Lucky bitch.

Potty mouth.

Crap face.