A Case of The Bathroom Crazies

My neurosis are running into my phobias, making love, and multiplying.

Sometimes, every once in awhile, I go to a public washroom and freak myself out a bit. Let’s take last night for example.

I was staying late at the library because it looks like I’m a busy and dedicated student when really all I am doing is updating twitter. In any case, I had consumed far too much delicious Cherry Vanilla Tea and had to book it to the (loath) public washroom. Usually these things are pretty packed, but it was almost 11pm and there was only one other person in there. There are three stalls in this washroom, and this particular person had chosen the slightly awkward position of being in the middle… thereby forcing me to practically hold hands with her while I peed. One rickety wall sure doesn’t feel like enough privacy for me.

So I’m peeing away and checking out the girl’s shoes (because that’s what I do) and I realized… she wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting there. I’d been peeing for quite some time (massive bladder), so this got to be a little suspicious to me. When in all actuality she was probably just dying to be left alone to drop a deuce, I became terrified that she was actually some deformed mental hospital escapee bent on cutting me open to “see my pretty insides.” I could almost visualize her hand coming up from under the stall, twisted at an impossible angle (think the girl from the ring crawling out of the well) with long dirty purplish claws attached. Terrified, I got out of there as quickly as possible and ran for the door… at which point I smacked into someone attempting to make a bathroom visit of their own. I screamed. In the library. Not exactly incognito.

Ok, so maybe it was more of a loud yelp than a scream. Still, I’m pretty sure they think I’m the crazy one, when really, it was that insane serial killer in the bathroom that should be ostrasized. Not me. In any case, I’m working in a different building today. Don’t worry, I’m sure by now they’ve apprehended the villain.

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22 thoughts on “A Case of The Bathroom Crazies”

  1. You’ve earned a rare thing from me: an emoticon. o.o

    Although admittedly there are times I hear things downstairs that I know aren’t ax-murderers, yet I still investigate armed with an immense bowie knife.

  2. Haha and why not? The one time you don’t will be the one time creatures from The Hills Have Eyes find you in your boxers blogging. Constant Vigilance!

      1. I think you earn the right to stop worrying once you’re dead. Things could be worse, you could be completely naked… and covered in frosting… I don’t know.

          1. naked, semi-naked or in the throes of a passionate night involving edible toppings… all slightly inconvenient ways to go.

            That would be Riley, all little and baby like. She’s 7 months now. Today she thought it would be ok to eat my favourite pair of boots. I’m not mad. Or anything.

  3. HAHAHA! And this: “My neurosis are running into my phobias, making love, and multiplying.” Yes yes yes yes! I feel you, sister.

  4. um, I think that was me. I was wearing lime green crocs and waiting ever so patiently for you to leave so I could poo in peace. I wanted to thank you for leaving so quickly, and I pooped the moment you left.

    1. Bahahah I thought I noticed the tell-tale hippo sticker on your heel. And a particular strain in the feet placement…

  5. Ok I confess, I totally check out the girls shoes in the stall beside me.

    and I absolutely loathe when people are in the middle stall! You never really know if, perhaps, they were forced into that stall to begin with… but either way, I’m totally down with your serial-killer freak-o.

    1. haha there’s a thought. I’ll eat her teeth… then she can’t chew anything else… two birds one stone.

  6. Is it odd that I find that cruel, and yet I suggested eating her ear?

    That, and who’s got the harder teeth, the dog or the woman? Hm. I sense something poetic, here. “I swallow her teeth like pills…” something something. Yeah. I’m keeping that. You can’t have that. I’m taking gobstopper kisses, too.

    1. That’s it Eric. We’re going to have this out right now… in the best possible way to end any and all arguments…

      NAKED MUD WRESTLING MATCH!

      You bring the naked, I’ll bring the mud.

      p.s I like the “something something” part of the poem, keep that.

  7. This is going to be a lot more fun than when Seb and I have it out. I’ll bring the naked in spades. So much naked you won’t know what to do with it all.

    1. I’m sure I could think of something. Convert the naked into something useful? Naked Eric curtains? Naked Eric placemats? Naked Eric…. oh god I’m beginning to sound like the guy from Silence of the Lambs… I promise I will draw the line at wearing Naked Eric as a suit… promise. No matter how soft the skin is.

      I promise I’m not usually this creepy.

  8. Yeah, that went to a pretty weird place. And if you were to use me just for placemats, man, I’d feel pretty bad. I would think you’d make me into a rug, throw me in front of the fireplace, at least.

    1. That depends entirely on how hairy you are… can’t have a throw rug that isn’t soft and fluffy against your skin. Of course, not that we’ve had this conversation if you ever get made into a throw rug they are going to immediately come looking for me.

  9. This thought has never occurred to me in the history of ever. But perhaps now it will.

    Most of the time, it’s no big, but every once in awhile, I’m randomly overcome with performance anxiety when sharing a very silent bathroom with just one other person. Or, alternately, when I’m in a very silent bathroom and there’s a line of people waiting for me to HURRY UP ALREADY.

    And the more I think about it, the harder it is to pee! It’s terrible! Now I can add to my neurosis the belief that the person next to me thinks I’m a serial killer. Excellent.

    1. hahaha I love this comment. My anxiety usually comes in the form of “Oh my god, I’m totally going to die here! What a horrible place to die! Run! Run!” or “I wonder if anyone will notice if I fart. It’s really quiet in here. It could be awkward. Ok Imma do it.” And then I do, rush out of the stall and pretend it wasn’t me. I even give knowing looks to the other girls like… “Man, who farted? That is totally awkward, why would someone do that?”

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